A Crack in the Facade

As I sat there, lost in a sea of despair, Hange's expression transformed from regret to concern. He took another step closer, his eyes locked onto mine, and I could sense him trying to bridge the gap between us. But I was too far gone, my mind consumed by the darkness that had been lurking beneath the surface. He reached out a hand, and I flinched, my body recoiling from his touch. It was a reflex, a conditioned response to the pain that had been etched into my psyche. Hange's eyes widened in surprise, and he hesitated, his hand hovering in mid-air. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly, his voice a gentle coaxing. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." But I couldn't shake off the feeling of abandonment. It was a familiar sensation, one that I had grown accustomed to over the years. And in that moment, I felt like I was drowning in a sea of emotions, unable to find a lifeline to cling to. Hange's face was etched with worry, and he took a deep breath before speaking again. "Let me get you something to drink, okay? Maybe some water or tea?" His voice was calm, soothing, but I could sense the tension beneath the surface. I shook my head, my body still shaking with sobs. He didn't understand. He never understood. The words echoed in my mind like a mantra, a reminder of the chasm that separated us. Hange's eyes dropped, and he looked away, his jaw clenched in frustration. For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the only sound being my ragged breathing. Then, he stood up and walked over to the kitchen, leaving me alone on the sofa. As I sat there, I couldn't help but think about the past, about the memories that had brought us together. We had met in college, bonding over our shared love of literature and music. He was charming, witty, and kind, and I had fallen deeply in love with him. But over the years, things had changed. He had become busier, his work demanding more and more of his time. And I had become more and more dependent on him, my anxiety and depression feeding off his absence. The sound of the kettle whistling broke the silence, and I looked up to see Hange walking towards me with a steaming cup of tea. He handed it to me, his eyes apologetic, and I took a sip, the warmth spreading through my body. For a moment, I felt a sense of calm, a sense of peace. But it was short-lived, as the memories came flooding back. I remembered the times he had left me alone, the times he had forgotten to call or text. And I remembered the times I had felt like I was losing myself, like I was disappearing into the void. Hange sat down beside me, his arm around my shoulders, and I felt a surge of gratitude. Maybe, just maybe, he could fix this. Maybe he could make me whole again. But as I looked up at him, I saw something in his eyes that made my heart sink. It was a look of resignation, of defeat. And in that moment, I knew that I was on my own, that I had to find a way to heal myself. The thought was both terrifying and liberating, and I didn't know what the future held. All I knew was that I had to take the first step, no matter how small it seemed.