It's a minute past midnight when Chihiro finally gives in to the urge she's been suppressing all day and starts to cry. She's lying on the bed, her face buried in her pillow to muffle the sobs that want to tear out of her throat.
He's not coming.
The realization makes her fingers dig into her pillow.
Really, she doesn't understand why she even cries over him anymore. Every night is the same and every night, she feels her heart being ripped to shreds. You'd think she'd be used to the disappointment by now, but it still crushes her and leaves her to the point of breathlessness.
Wanting some sort of comfort, Chihiro reaches a hand up to touch the purple hair tie on her head, the only tangible proof that her trip to the Spirit World was real and not some figment of a child's overactive imagination, only to stop when she remembers it's missing.
But it's not missing. 'Missing' implies that she misplaced it, that she never meant to lose it – and she did mean it. Chihiro intentionally threw it into the woods on her trip back to the house this morning because the only thing standing between her and a relatively normal life, she realized, is that small little accessory.
A fresh wave of tears floods her eyes and her whole body shakes.
She should've thrown it out years ago. Keeping it has only caused her heartache, and she's had enough of it.
Chihiro can't even remember when she started thinking like that, but she supposes it started only days after her journey into the Spirit World.
Her parents found it funny – cute, even – when she started telling them fantastical stories about humans getting turned into pigs, an ugly witch stealing the names of her employees, and a flying dragon battling it out with shikigami, but the fascination quickly died down when they found that Chihiro spoke of the characters in her story with a little too much enthusiasm.
"She's just going through that phase," her father said, waving it off. "You know – when little girls start believing in fairies and the like. Nothing to worry about."
But they couldn't hide the worried looks they sent her when they thought she wasn't looking, looks which clearly told her what their mouths refused to say: This isn't normal.
That was when feelings of doubt crept into her heart. They didn't remember a thing during their time as pigs and the only evidence she has is so mundane and negligible that it hardly even counts. It's her word against the world's.
Was any of it real?
Her heart tells her 'yes' but her head tells her 'no.'
It's completely illogical, her head argues. Witches? Dragons? Spirits? Impossible. Those things only exist in fairy tales.
Chihiro clutches her head as another sob racks her body.
Will we ever see each other again?
"Promise," Haku's voice echoes in her head. It's as strong and resolute as it was the first night she heard it when she felt the doubt consuming her, and Chihiro desperately wants to believe in him again but she can't bear to set herself up for more disappointment.
After all, promises were made to be broken.