He Asked For Space I Left With His Baby Chapter 13
In an instant, the hope in his eyes died.
He finally understood. This wasn’t anger. This wasn’t a threat.
I was closing every last door between us.
The next morning, I flew back to Dublin.
Somehow, after the wedding, Ethan and I became friends.
He was nothing like the stories people told.
Sometimes, he’d send me a photo of a particularly beautiful sunset from the office window.
Or a picture of his cat sleeping in another ridiculous spot.
Occasionally, a message would appear that just said:
*The café downstairs burned the coffee again. It’s a crime against humanity.*
Slowly, I started sharing pieces of my own day with him.
A bookstore I’d found. A terrible sandwich. A funny conversation I’d overheard on the tram.
No matter how busy he was, he always replied within seconds.
There was an unexpected comfort in knowing someone would always write back.
Then, one afternoon, five minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty. Nothing.
I kept checking my phone.
Without thinking, I typed:
*Are you ignoring me?*
My thumb hovered over the send button before I froze. What was I doing? He was my boss.
He didn’t owe me an instant reply.
I deleted the message.
At that exact moment, my phone buzzed.
It was a voice memo.
In the background, I could hear the murmur of conversation, the scrape of chairs.
“Sorry. Just got out of a meeting they dragged me into.”
I was already smiling before I even realized it.
Then, out of nowhere, a memory from years ago surfaced.
It was from the beginning of my relationship with Roman.
One night, he had texted:
*Dinner. Talk later.*
Then, silence.
An hour went by.
Finally, I wrote:
*Finished?*
Several minutes later, he replied.
*Yep.*
Nothing more.
It had been such a small thing.
But it had left me feeling strangely disappointed.