The Last Person I Loved - 07

The Long Route Home


After almost four days of avoiding her, I finally realized something.
Staying away from her was hurting me more than talking to her.
So one evening, after office hours, we finally spoke properly again.
There was no dramatic apology. No emotional confrontation.
Just two people sitting quietly on a parked scooter near the office, trying to return to normal.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I never wanted all this drama.”
I stayed silent for a few seconds before asking the only thing that mattered to me.
“Did you clear everything with him?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“And now?”
“He understands.”
I looked at her carefully. “You sure?”
This time she smiled slightly. “Yes.”
And honestly… that small smile fixed something inside me instantly.
After that, life slowly started returning to normal again.
Morning parking-lot talks. Late-night chats. Quick rides before office.
As if those few ugly days had never happened.
But somewhere deep inside… I think both of us knew things were still not completely over.
One morning, she came to office without her scooter.
“My brother dropped me today,” she explained casually.
And honestly, somewhere inside me, I felt happy hearing that.
Because that meant in the evening… I would get to drop her home.
After office hours, we left together on my scooter.
And just to spend a little more time with her, I deliberately took the longer route instead of the usual one.
She noticed immediately.
“This isn’t the normal road,” she said while smiling.
“I know,” I replied casually. “Less traffic this side.”
Truthfully… I just wanted those extra fifteen minutes with her.
The weather that evening was perfect. Cool wind. Less traffic. And her sitting quietly behind me with her hands lightly around me.
At that moment, life genuinely felt peaceful.
But peace never lasted too long in our story.
While riding, I casually looked into the mirror.
And suddenly my heart dropped.
A bike was following us.
Him.
At first I ignored it.
But after a few seconds, he accelerated.
I accelerated too.
And then suddenly, in heavy traffic, he tried to hit my scooter from behind.
That was it.
I immediately stopped the scooter on the side of the road and got down.
This time I wasn’t nervous anymore. I was irritated.
He removed his helmet angrily and started walking toward us.
Before he could even begin shouting, I calmly said,
“Talk to her. Not me.”
Again, both of them started arguing while I stood there silently listening.
And then suddenly…
something unexpected happened.
She removed a ring from her finger and threw it on the road.
I froze.
I didn’t even know she still had a ring from him.
He quickly bent down and picked it up.
And before I could understand anything properly, she suddenly got down from my scooter and started walking away alone toward the main road.
I got confused immediately.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
Without turning back, she replied, “I don’t want to go with either of you. I’ll go myself.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
What was happening anymore?
I slowly started driving behind her while her boyfriend followed behind us too.
Finally I said, “Okay fine. Let me at least get you an auto.”
I drove ahead toward the main road and stopped one auto.
Then I waited.
And waited.
But she never came.
After standing there for almost five minutes, I asked the auto driver to leave.
Something felt wrong.
I immediately went back toward the road where the argument had happened.
But now…
both of them were gone.
No her. No him.
For almost twenty minutes, I kept searching nearby roads like an idiot.
My anger kept increasing with every passing minute.
And finally, frustrated and exhausted, I went home.
Ten minutes later, my phone vibrated.
Her message.
“Sorry… he was crying. So I went with him.”
I just stared at the screen silently.
Honestly… that message hurt more than the entire fight itself.
After everything… she still went with him.
For a few seconds, anger completely took over me.
But somehow, I controlled myself and simply replied:
“Okay. Then clear everything properly first. After that we’ll talk.”
And after that, I typed only two more words.
“Good night.”
Her messages kept coming after that.
But this time, I didn’t reply.
Because deep down, I knew if I continued talking at that moment…
I would say things I didn’t actually mean.