**Chapter 1: A Lonely Night**

The silence of the night was suffocating, a heavy blanket that wrapped around me, making it hard to breathe. I sat on the sofa, my ears ringing from the cacophony of sounds that always seemed to assault me. The hum of the refrigerator, the creaks and groans of the old house, the distant rumble of cars driving by – it was all so overwhelming. But I was used to it. I had to be. As I sat there, my fingers drumming against the armrest, I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness inside. My eyes, though blind, seemed to ache with a deep longing. It was a feeling I'd grown accustomed to, a hollow sensation that echoed through my chest whenever Hange was away. Hange Zoe, my husband, my love, my everything. He was the CEO of NeuroSpark, a company that pushed the boundaries of technology and science. He was a genius, a mad scientist, and I was so proud to call him mine. But with greatness comes a price, and for us, that price was time. The door opened, and Hange walked in, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that soothed my frazzled nerves. "I'm back... today was pretty busy." He looked at me, his eyes scanning my face, and I could sense a hint of guilt creeping into his expression. I smiled, a wide, goofy grin spreading across my face. "You were waiting for me?" he asked, his tone laced with a mix of surprise and affection. I nodded, my head bobbing up and down. I always waited for him, no matter how late he came home. I couldn't help it. I had severe separation anxiety, a condition that made me feel like I was drowning whenever he was away. It was a leftover from when my father abandoned me as a baby, and it made me cling to Hange like a lifeline. Hange's gaze lingered on me, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes. He looked tired, his face drawn, his skin pale. "I'm sorry, I... I'm just really tired," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. As he approached me, I could smell the weariness emanating from him – the scent of stale coffee, the tang of stress, and the musk of exhaustion. My hypersensitive nose wrinkled in response, but I didn't care. I just wanted him close. But as he drew near, he hesitated, his hand hovering over my shoulder before pulling back. "I'm sorry, I... I don't think I can cuddle right now," he said, his voice firm, almost apologetic. "I'm too tired, and all I want to do is sleep." The words cut deep, like a knife twisting in my gut. I felt my separation anxiety spiking, my heart racing, my breath catching in my throat. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, streaming down my face like a river. I whimpered, a high-pitched sound that was almost a cry. Hange's expression softened, and he took a step closer, his arms opening in a gentle gesture. "Baby, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. But it was too late. I was already regressing, my mind slipping back into the dark, safe space of infancy. I felt myself dissolving into a sea of fear and uncertainty, my mind shattered by the cruel words. As I regressed, my world shrunk, and all I could think about was the overwhelming fear of being alone. I whimpered again, my body shaking, my heart racing. Hange's voice was a distant hum, a gentle murmur that tried to calm me down, but I was lost, adrift in a sea of despair. And in that moment, I knew I needed him, needed his touch, his comfort, his love.