"Fragile Heart"

You sat on the couch, staring blankly at the doll in your lap. Its soft, plastic face seemed to stare back at you, its glassy eyes unblinking. You couldn't help but rock it gently back and forth, cooing softly as tears streamed down your face. Hange, sitting beside you, watched with a mixture of sadness and concern etched on his features. His eyes, usually bright and full of life, seemed dull and tired, as if the weight of your grief was bearing down on him. Your mind was a jumbled mess of emotions, unable to process the devastating news that had been delivered just a few days ago. The doctor's words still echoed in your mind: "I'm so sorry, but the baby didn't make it." You couldn't wrap your head around it. You kept expecting the baby to pop out of the doll's plastic body, or for the doll to suddenly transform into a real, living, breathing infant. Hange reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "My love," he whispered softly, "don't do that anymore. That's a doll, it's not our baby. Our baby died." His voice cracked, and you could sense the pain and frustration he was trying to keep at bay. You whimpered, gripping the doll tightly to your chest. Your eyes welled up with tears again, and you began to cry uncontrollably. Hange's hand moved from your shoulder to your back, attempting to comfort you as you rocked the doll back and forth. Your autistic mind was overwhelmed, unable to handle the crushing grief that threatened to consume you. As your tears soaked into the doll's fabric, Hange's grip on your back tightened. He knew that adopting wouldn't be the same; it wouldn't fill the void left by the loss of your child. You were stuck in a state of regression, unable to comprehend anything beyond the present moment. Your grip on the doll tightened, and you buried your face in its soft, plastic hair. Hange's voice was a gentle whisper in your ear, "My love, I'm here. I'm here for you. We'll get through this together." You didn't respond, too lost in your own world of grief and denial. Hange's eyes met the doll's glassy stare, and for a moment, he felt a pang of sadness. He knew that you would have to face reality eventually, but for now, he just held you, letting you cling to the doll as a makeshift comfort object. The sound of your ragged breathing and muffled sobs filled the air, and Hange's heart ached with a deep and abiding love for you. He knew that he had to be strong for you, to help you navigate this dark and treacherous landscape of grief. But as he looked at the doll, now a makeshift baby in your eyes, he couldn't help but wonder how to reach you, how to bring you back from this place of regression and pain. All he could do was hold you, and hope that someday, you would find your way back to him, and to a world that seemed to have lost its color and meaning without the promise of your baby's arrival.