**Chapter 3: The Morning After**

The morning light crept into the room, casting a warm glow over your sleeping form. Hange's eyes, red-rimmed from lack of sleep, watched over you as you stirred, your body still fragile from the emotional turmoil of the previous day. He gently squeezed your hand, a comforting gesture that seemed to anchor you to reality. As you slowly opened your eyes, Hange's face came into focus, his expression etched with concern and love. You smiled weakly, a faint smile that seemed to reassure him that you were okay. Hange's face softened, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips gentle as a whisper. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "How are you feeling?" You tried to respond, but your voice was hoarse from crying, and all that came out was a faint croak. Hange quickly got up and fetched a glass of water from the bedside table, helping you take a sip. The cool liquid soothed your parched throat, and you tried again to speak. "I'm...I'm sorry," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. Hange's expression turned gentle, and he sat back down beside you, his arm around your shoulders. "You have nothing to be sorry for, my love," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "You're strong, and you're resilient. You've been through something traumatic, and it's okay to fall apart." You looked up at him, your eyes searching for reassurance. Hange's face was a map of empathy, his eyes filled with understanding. As you sat there, wrapped in Hange's arms, you began to feel a sense of safety, a sense of security that you hadn't felt in days. The storm of your emotions still raged on, but with Hange by your side, you felt like you could face it head-on. The sound of the doorbell broke the silence, and Hange's head turned towards the door. "I'll get it," he said, getting up from the bed. You heard the muffled sound of Hange's voice, followed by the soft murmur of conversation. A few minutes later, the door to your bedroom opened, and Hange walked in with a tray of steaming hot coffee and a plate of toast. "I brought you some breakfast," he said, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "I thought you might be hungry." You smiled, feeling a surge of gratitude towards Hange. As you took a sip of the coffee, the warmth of the liquid spread through your body, and you felt a sense of comfort that you hadn't felt in days. As you ate and drank, Hange sat beside you, his eyes watching over you with a deep concern. You knew that he was there for you, to support you through the dark days ahead. And with that knowledge, you felt a sense of hope, a sense that you would get through this, that you would heal and learn to live with the loss. But as you looked around the room, your eyes landed on the doll that still lay on your bed, a reminder of what you had lost. The pain surged up, and you felt a lump form in your throat. Hange's arm wrapped around you, pulling you close. "I'm here," he whispered, his voice a steady presence in your life. "I'll always be here for you."