Chase pulled his phone out, his thumb hovering over her name. He wanted to text her about the song the band was playing—the one they danced to in his kitchen at 2 AM. Instead, he locked the screen. He knew the routine. He’d check her Instagram and see her smiling in a crowded bar in Lincoln Park, looking lighter, freer.
It had been six months since Maya left for Chicago. Six months of silence, except for the occasional "like" on a photo—a digital breadcrumb that led nowhere. CHASE WRIGHT - Wish Youd Miss Me
The sting wasn't that she was gone; it was how easily she seemed to have packed him away. He didn't want her back in the "ruin-his-life" kind of way. He just wanted to know that he had left a dent. He wanted to believe that when she walked past a park that looked like theirs, her heart skipped a beat, even if just for a second. Chase pulled his phone out, his thumb hovering over her name