You Wanted Space! We’re Done, Dr. Whitmore Chapter 12

You Wanted Space! We’re Done, Dr. Whitmore Chapter 12

The next day.

I went back to S-the city where I’d started over.

After the wedding, Chase and Thad gotten closer.

I discovered something unexpected-the man everyone called “Junior Emperor” wasn’t just approachable.

He was actually kind of a talker.

During lunch breaks, he’d snap photos of clouds outside his office window and shoot them over.

He made custom emojis from his cat’s pictures-flooded my chat with crying cat faces, one after another.

When I worked late, he’d text-

“Convenience store hot snacks-only radishes left.”

“Zero stars.”

Slowly, I started sharing the small stuff back.

And Chase replied to every single one. Fast.

Every time I finished something and checked my phone-seeing his messages waiting-it hit me in a

strange way.

Like someone was actually paying attention.

Then one time, Chase didn’t respond within five minutes.

I checked my phone. Once. Twice.

Silence.

That hollow feeling crept in out of nowhere.

My thumbs moved before my brain caught up-

“Why aren’t you replying?”

I caught myself a second before hitting send.

What was I doing?

I was demanding a response. From my manager.

I deleted it.

Then my phone buzzed.

A voice message from him-chairs scraping in the background.

“Just got pulled into a meeting. It just ended.”

I held the phone.

And remembered.

Back when Adrian and I first started dating. We’d be mid-conversation, and he’d say he was going to eat.

Then nothing. For over an hour.

I waited. Finally asked, “Finished?”

One-word reply: “Yeah.”

It was such a small thing.

But I felt that pang anyway. Because he never once thought to tell me on his own.

Never asked, “What are you doing?”

I let it slide back then. Kept the conversation going.

Later, Adrian’s replies grew rare.

Every time I asked why, he’d say, flat: “Don’t you have your own things to do?”

Now, looking back.

I should’ve stopped being anxious over whether someone replied on time a long time ago.

But seeing Chase explain himself.

Something tightened in my chest.

Still, I typed back-

“It’s fine. Focus on work. No rush.”

The chat bubble appeared-

Then a wall of text.

“Soldiers in World War II found time to write letters to their sweethearts.”

“Olympic commentators called their girlfriends between matches.”

“Even band members on stage pause to text their girlfriends back.”

“Compared to them I’m just an ordinary guy.”

“No matter how busy I am, I can always find time to reply.”

One more message followed.

“So, Claire.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”