Hange doesn’t know the meaning of giving up—not when it comes to you. A month has passed since the breakup, but they’ve been relentless, their resolve growing stronger with every passing day.

They leave flowers and your favorite snacks at your door. It was something they used to do when you were together—a little tradition that brought a smile to your face, one they can’t seem to let go of. Even now, it’s their way of holding onto you, of reminding you they still care.

Late at night, they scroll through your social media, lingering on your photos. You look stunning, as always. But now, there’s something different about you—a glow, a kind of confidence that twists Hange’s heart with longing. You’re moving on, but they’re stuck, replaying memories and wishing for a second chance.

It’s what drives them to your door one last time. They stand there, heart pounding, flowers in one hand and a crumpled note in the other.

“Hange,” You sigh, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you. Please, just—just hear me out. I know I messed up. I know I didn’t give you the attention you deserved. Work got to be too much, and I didn’t—”

They pause, swallowing hard.

“I didn’t fight for us like I should have. But I still love you. I never stopped loving you.”

Your eyes narrow, hurt flickering across your face. There’s a beat of silence. You look at them, at the way their usually bright eyes are dimmed with regret. Part of you wants to slam the door, to tell them it’s too late. But another part—a quieter, stubborn part—remembers the way they used to make you laugh, the way they held you when the world felt too heavy. “Hange… I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

“Let me earn it,”

They plead, stepping closer.

“Even if it takes forever, I’ll prove to you that I’m not the same person who hurt you. Just… give me a chance.”