Chapter 3: Fractured

The sunlight streaming through the windows was like a slap in the face, jolting me awake. I groggily opened my eyes to find Hange's face inches from mine, his eyes sunken and his skin pale. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks, and I felt a pang of guilt for adding to his burden. As I slowly sat up, Hange's arms tightened around me, holding me in place. "Don't move, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice rough from lack of sleep. "Just rest for a bit longer." But I couldn't rest. I had to get up, to face whatever was waiting for us outside. I gently pried his arms loose and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Hange watched me, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and exhaustion. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner. But as I looked around, I noticed something odd. The curtains were open, and the sunlight was streaming in. I was sure Hange had closed them before we went to bed. "Hange?" I said, my voice low. "Did you open the curtains?" Hange's expression faltered, and he looked away. "I don't know, sweetheart. I don't remember." I got out of bed and walked over to the window. The view outside was familiar – our backyard, with the trees swaying gently in the breeze. But as I looked closer, I saw something that made my heart skip a beat. The fence was broken. A section of it was lying on the ground, and there were scratches on the posts. I felt a shiver run down my spine. What could have done that? "Hange," I called out, my voice shaking. "Come see this." Hange got out of bed and walked over to the window. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. "What the...?" he muttered. We stood there in silence, staring at the broken fence. I could feel the tension between us, the unspoken questions. What had happened while we were sleeping? And what did it mean? As we stood there, I noticed something else. A piece of paper was stuck in the fence, flapping gently in the breeze. I pointed it out to Hange, and he nodded. "I'll go get it," he said, his voice firm. He walked out into the backyard, his movements slow and deliberate. As he reached for the paper, I saw something that made my heart sink. It was a note, scribbled in red ink. And as Hange read it, his face went white. "What is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Hange turned to me, his eyes filled with fear. "It's a warning," he said, his voice low. "We're not alone. And we're not safe."