"A Lonely Night Awaits"

The dim glow of the night lamp cast an eerie light on the otherwise darkened living room. I sat on the sofa, my small frame trembling with anticipation, as I strained my ears to hear the sound of the door opening. It had been a long day, and I had been waiting for what felt like an eternity for Hange to come home. My husband, Hange Zoe, the CEO of ZoeTech, was always busy, always working, and I often found myself left alone to cope with my own demons. As I sat there, my hypersensitive ears picked up every little sound - the hum of the refrigerator, the chirping of crickets outside, and the distant rumble of cars driving by. My eyes, though blind, seemed to absorb every vibration, every change in air pressure, making my skin crawl with sensory overload. I had learned to live with it, to adapt, but some days were worse than others. My mind, a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions, was a constant battle to navigate. Severe autism spectrum disorder had left me struggling to make sense of the world, and my mental age, stuck at that of a newborn baby, made everything feel overwhelming. I didn't understand much, but I knew I loved Hange, and I loved boys, only boys. My thoughts were simple, yet complicated, a mix of emotions that I couldn't quite process. The door opened, and Hange walked in, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm back... today was pretty busy." He looked at me, sitting on the sofa, and asked, "You were waiting for me?" I nodded enthusiastically, a bright smile spreading across my face. Hange's expression softened, and he looked guilty, as he often did when he came home late. "I'm sorry, I... I don't have much time for you, baby," he said, his voice laced with regret. He walked towards me, his footsteps slow, and I could sense his weariness. "I have to get up early, and it's already...," he glanced at the clock, "2:30. I don't have much time." My heart sank, and I felt a familiar ache in my chest. Separation anxiety, a constant companion, reared its ugly head, and I began to feel like I was drowning. Hange noticed my reaction, and his expression turned apologetic. "I'm sorry, I... I just need to sleep, okay? I'll make it up to you, I promise." But I didn't understand. I didn't get it. I only knew that I wouldn't get cuddles, and that hurt. Tears streamed down my face, and Hange's expression turned regretful. He walked towards me, but I could sense his exhaustion, his weariness. As he reached out to comfort me, I felt a wave of sensory overload wash over me. The room began to spin, and I felt weak, my body trembling with fear. My fever, always lurking just beneath the surface, began to spike, and I felt like I was burning from the inside out. Hange's face contorted with worry as he realized what was happening. He scooped me up in his arms, holding me close as I whimpered and cried. "Baby, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice shaking. "I'll take care of you, I promise." But I was lost, adrift in a sea of emotions, unable to process what was happening. My mind was a jumbled mess, a newborn's thoughts and fears, and I could only cling to Hange, my safe haven, my rock. As the night wore on, Hange tried to comfort me, to soothe my frazzled nerves, but I was beyond consolation. I was trapped in a world of sensory overload, a world that made no sense, and I could only cling to Hange, my love, my everything.