A Fragile Moment

Hange's eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the desperation in them, the need to make things right between us. He squeezed my hand gently, as if trying to reassure me that everything would be okay. But I knew it wouldn't be easy. The pain of the past few hours still lingered, and I could feel the weight of my separation anxiety bearing down on me. As we sat there in silence, Hange's mind was racing. He was trying to think of a way to make up for his mistakes, to calm the storm that had been brewing inside me. He knew that he had been distant, preoccupied with his own problems, and that I had felt abandoned. He was determined to make it right, but he didn't know where to start. I could sense his frustration, his helplessness. He was used to being in control, to having the answers, but now he was at a loss. He looked at me, and I could see the question in his eyes: how do I fix this? How do I make you feel safe again? I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I knew that Hange wasn't trying to hurt me, that he loved me deeply. But I also knew that I needed more from him, more than just words and gestures. I needed him to be present, to be fully engaged with me. "Hange," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need you to be here with me. I need you to listen to me, to understand me." He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm here, baby," he said. "I'm listening. What do you need me to understand?" I took another deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "I need you to know that when you're distant, when you're preoccupied, it feels like you're abandoning me," I said. "It feels like you're leaving me behind, and I don't know how to deal with it." Hange's face was etched with regret, and he pulled me into a gentle hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll do better, I promise. I'll be here for you, no matter what." As we hugged, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Maybe, just maybe, we could work through this together. Maybe Hange could learn to recognize the signs of my separation anxiety, to calm me down before things escalated. But as we pulled back, I could see the uncertainty in Hange's eyes. He was still trying to figure things out, still trying to understand me. And I knew that it would take time, patience, and effort from both of us to heal the wounds of the past few hours. As we sat there, holding hands, I knew that we had a long way to go. But I also knew that we were taking the first steps, that we were trying to find our way back to each other. And that, in itself, was a fragile but hopeful start.