"The Lonely Wait"

The dim glow of the nightlight cast an eerie shadow on the walls as I sat on the sofa, my ears perked up, straining to hear the sound of the door opening. It was a sound I had been waiting for, a sound that signaled his return. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to mock me, each passing minute a harsh reminder that time was slipping away. I was enveloped in a cocoon of silence, the only sound being the soft hum of the air conditioner, a gentle whisper that did little to soothe my frazzled nerves. As I sat, my hands were clenched into tight fists, my heart racing with anticipation. The world around me was a blur, a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds that I couldn't quite decipher. My eyes, though unable to see, felt like they were drinking in every detail of the room, searching for something, anything, to cling to. My mind was a jumble of thoughts, each one tangled in a mess of emotions. The door creaked open, and I felt a surge of excitement. Hange, my husband, stood in the entrance, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. He looked tired, his face etched with lines of exhaustion, his eyes sunken. But to me, he was a giant, a towering figure who held the power to soothe my fears and calm my anxiety. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and gravelly, like a gentle earthquake that shook me to my core. "I'm back... today was pretty busy." His eyes locked onto mine, and I could sense a hint of guilt lurking beneath the surface. I smiled, a wide, toothy grin spreading across my face. I was always happy to see him, always eager to be near him. And he knew it. My heart skipped a beat as I replied, "You were waiting for me?" The words tumbled out of my mouth like a confession, a plea for attention and affection. Hange's expression softened, and he took a step forward, his movements economical and deliberate. But as he looked at me, his eyes lingering on my face, I could see the fatigue etched on his features. He looked like he was running on empty, his body screaming for rest. "I'm sorry, I...," he began, his voice trailing off as he seemed to search for the right words. "I'm sorry, I just can't cuddle right now. I'm too tired, and all I want to do is sleep..." His words were laced with a firmness that was unusual for him, and I felt a pang of disappointment. My mind reeled, my thoughts spiraling out of control. I didn't understand what he meant. Why couldn't he cuddle with me? Why was he saying no to me? The words felt like a rejection, a harsh reminder that I wasn't important enough to warrant his attention. Tears began to stream down my face, hot and bitter. I felt my body begin to shake, my breath coming in short gasps. Hange's eyes widened, and he took a step closer, his face etched with regret. "I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice softer now, like a gentle breeze on a summer's day. But it was too late. My mind had already begun to unravel, regressing to a time when I was a newborn baby, scared and alone in a world that was too big and too loud. I whimpered, a small, lost sound, and Hange's face contorted in distress. He knew that I was lost, that I needed him to hold me and keep me safe. But as he looked at me, I could see the exhaustion battling with his desire to comfort me. And in that moment, I knew that I was truly alone.