Chase Wright - Wish Youd Miss Me Apr 2026

He stood up, tucked his chin into his jacket, and walked out into the cool night air. As he started his car, a familiar melody began to play on the radio. He sat in the driveway for a long time, letting the lyrics bridge the gap between where he was and where she might be, hoping that somewhere in the city of big shoulders, she was humming along and thinking of him.

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. He stood up, tucked his chin into his

"You okay, man?" the bartender asked, wiping down the counter. It had been six months since Maya left for Chicago

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.

He closed his eyes and could almost hear her laugh over the jukebox. He imagined her sitting in her new apartment, looking at an old hoodie he’d forgotten to take, and feeling that sharp, sudden ache of "what if."