The Last Person I Loved - 11

Every Minute With You Matters

Yes...

she had become my world.

And maybe because of her endless support, her positive attitude, and the faith she had in me, I finally found the strength to keep moving forward.

After countless interviews, sleepless nights, and moments of self-doubt, I finally got selected by a startup company in the same town.

The moment I received the confirmation, there was only one person I wanted to tell.

Her.

Without wasting a second, I called her.

The phone barely rang before she answered.

"Hello?"

"I got the job."

There was complete silence for a second.

Then she almost shouted with excitement.

"I knew it!"

"Didn't I tell you, my love?"

"You'll do it."

"I knew something even better was waiting for you."

I couldn't stop smiling.

Not because I had finally found a job.

But because even during the days when I had stopped believing in myself...

she never stopped believing in me.

Sometimes all we need in life is one person who keeps saying, "You can do it," until one day we finally do.

For me...

that person was her.

Getting the job solved one problem.

But it created another.

Until then, every evening belonged to us.

After she finished school, we used to meet and walk home together.

Those twenty to twenty-five-minute walks had become a part of our everyday life.

Now everything had changed.

My office timings were from 1 PM to 11 PM.

By the time I returned home, she would already be asleep.

During the day she would be busy teaching.

There was simply no chance for us to meet anymore.

Since I had joined work, she had also started calling her father to pick her up from school every afternoon instead of walking home.

For the first few days...

it felt strange.

We had gone from meeting every single day...

to not meeting at all.

It was funny.

When I didn't have a job, we had plenty of time.

Now that I finally had one...

I couldn't spend time with the person who had helped me reach there.

But you know...

people who are truly in love somehow always find a way to be together.

And somehow...

we did too.

A few weeks later, her school timings changed.

Now she had to reach school much earlier in the morning.

One evening she called me.

"I've got an idea."

"What?"

"I have to reach school early now."

"Hmm..."

"So I told Papa that I'll walk to school in the morning."

"He can pick me up after school in the afternoon."

I waited.

She laughed.

"So..."

"So?"

"Can you pick me up every morning and drop me to school?"

Honestly...

she didn't even let me think.

"Yes."

The answer came out immediately.

There wasn't even a second of hesitation.

After all...

she had become my world.

But after saying yes...

another problem appeared.

How exactly was I supposed to explain this at home?

Leaving early wasn't the problem.

I was already an early riser.

I loved waking up early and exercising.

Most mornings I tried to stay consistent with it.

The real question was...

where exactly was I going every morning?

Then suddenly an idea came into my mind.

"I'll tell them I'm going to the park for exercise."

The park was inside the city.

Which meant I had a perfectly good excuse to take my scooter.

And honestly...

sometimes I still laugh thinking about it.

We ride scooters and cars to reach a park or a gym...

and then once we reach there...

we start walking or running on a treadmill.

Humans are funny sometimes.

Anyway...

my plan was ready.

Tomorrow morning...

I would tell Mom that I was going to the park for exercise.

Simple.

At least...

that's what I thought.

Believe me...

if you're not someone who lies often, telling even one small lie becomes surprisingly difficult.

That night I kept thinking about it.

Should I tell them?

Should I not?

I knew lying was wrong.

But on the other hand...

I wanted to see my beautiful Dhingulu.

I wanted to spend those peaceful early mornings with her.

Finally...

love won.

The next morning I got dressed in my exercise clothes.

Picked up my scooter keys.

Walked towards the kitchen.

Trying to sound as normal as possible, I said,

"Mom... from today I'll be going to the park in the mornings for exercise."

For some reason...

my heartbeat was racing faster than it ever had during any interview.

Mom looked at me for a moment.

Then simply said,

"Okay."

"Drive carefully."

बस...

That was it.

No questions.

No investigation.

No cross-examination.

I had already prepared answers for at least ten different questions in my head...

and she didn't ask even one.

The moment I stepped outside the house...

I smiled to myself.

Started my scooter.

And this time...

I wasn't going to the park.

I was going to meet the person who had unknowingly become the reason I looked forward to every morning.

From that day...

a new routine began.

She would be waiting for me near the corner of her society.

The moment she saw my scooter...

that beautiful smile automatically appeared on her face.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, Dhingulu."

The direct ride from her house to the school hardly took ten minutes.

Too short.

Neither of us wanted the ride to end that quickly.

So one day...

without even discussing it...

we both silently agreed to take the longer route.

Instead of joining the main road directly, I would turn towards a road that passed through green farms and a small village before connecting back to the same road leading to her school.

That small round trip hardly added another ten minutes.

Just...

ten extra minutes.

But for us...

those ten minutes were priceless.

Every single morning they felt like a gift.

Sometimes she told me funny stories about her students.

Sometimes I shared stories from my new office.

Sometimes we spoke about our families.

Sometimes about our dreams.

Sometimes we argued over the smallest things.

And sometimes...

we simply enjoyed the silence.

The cool breeze.

The smell of wet soil after watering the farms.

The peaceful roads.

The sunrise.

Those ten extra minutes slowly became the most beautiful part of our day.

Every morning when we finally reached her school, one of us would look at the time.

"We took the long route again."

I would smile.

"Only ten minutes."

She would shake her head and laugh.

"Worth it."

Every single time...

it truly was.

Looking back today...

people often think love grows because of expensive gifts...

grand surprises...

or fancy dates.

Maybe for some people it does.

But for us...

love grew on a scooter.

On empty roads.

Between green farms.

Through a small village.

By intentionally taking the longer route every single morning...

just to steal ten more minutes together.

Those ten minutes taught me something I still believe today.

Love isn't measured by how much time you have.

It's measured by what you do with the time you have.

And during those beautiful morning rides...

every minute with her...

mattered.