"A Moment of Misunderstanding"

The sound of my sobs slowly subsided, replaced by the gentle hum of Hange's breathing as he held me close. I could feel his chest rise and fall with each ragged breath, and I knew he was trying to calm himself down, to gather his thoughts. His hand stroked my hair, a gentle, soothing motion that usually brought me comfort, but tonight, it felt like a temporary Band-Aid on a deeper wound. As I lay there, I became aware of the sounds around me - the creaks and groans of the old house settling into the night, the distant hum of the city outside, and the soft rustle of Hange's clothes as he shifted his weight. It was a cacophony of sounds, but Hange's presence was a steady anchor, a reminder that I was not alone. Hange's voice, low and gentle, broke into my thoughts. "Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I just had a really long day, and I'm running on fumes." He paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "Can I get you something to make you feel better? Maybe a glass of water or a blanket?" I shook my head, still buried in his chest. I didn't need a glass of water or a blanket. What I needed was his attention, his love, and his presence. I needed to feel seen, to feel like I was more than just a responsibility to him. Hange seemed to sense my unspoken needs, and his arms tightened around me. "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere." His words were a gentle whisper, a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. As we sat there in silence, I began to feel a sense of calm wash over me. Hange's warmth, his scent, and his gentle breathing were a potent combination, and I felt my anxiety slowly ebb away. But just as I was starting to relax, Hange's phone buzzed in his pocket. He groaned, his body tensing as he reached for it. I could sense his frustration, his exhaustion, and his reluctance to deal with whatever was on the other end of the call. I pulled back, my ears perked up as I listened to the conversation. Hange's voice was low and businesslike, but I could detect a hint of tension beneath the surface. He was talking to someone, and it sounded like it was someone important. As he listened, his body language changed. He sat up straighter, his voice becoming more alert and engaged. I could sense his focus shifting, his attention drawn away from me and towards the conversation. I felt a pang of jealousy, a familiar sense of insecurity rising up inside me. Was I just a sideshow to Hange, a secondary concern to his work and his responsibilities? Or was I truly important to him? As Hange ended the call, he let out a deep breath, his body sagging once more. He looked at me, his voice low and gentle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I have to get up early tomorrow, and I really need to get some rest." I nodded, understanding. I knew he had a big day ahead of him, and I didn't want to be the reason he was tired. But as I looked up at him, I knew that I couldn't help but feel a little left out, a little like I was just an afterthought in his life. Hange seemed to sense my emotions, and his face softened. He pulled me into a tighter hug, his warmth and scent enveloping me once more. "You're not an afterthought, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice full of conviction. "You're my everything." As I lay there, wrapped in his arms, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Maybe, just maybe, I was more important to Hange than I thought. But as I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to Hange's story, more to his life than I knew. And I was determined to find out what that was.