A Seven-Seat Suv Couldn’t Fit Five People. So I Stopped Being Their Tool Chapter 04

A Seven-Seat Suv Couldn’t Fit Five People. So I Stopped Being Their Tool Chapter 04

Back at the inn that night.

Mila came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, sat on the couch.

Her hair still dripping.

Dante grabbed a towel. Draped it over her head.

“Dry it. Don’t catch a cold.”

Mila looked up, smiling. “Dante, you’re so good to me.”

He said, “You’ve never been careful about this. Since we were kids.”

Since we were kids.

They’d known each other three years.

Dante and I had been together four.

But when he said “since we were kids,” his tone was like he’d been taking care of her forever.

I sat at the dining table, checking tomorrow’s itinerary.

The route was already wrecked. The glass walkway ate half a day.

Tomorrow’s waterfall and forest sunset couldn’t both fit.

I redid the schedule. Sent it to the group.

No reply.

Ten minutes later, Mila posted.

Not in the group. On Instagram.

A side profile of Dante drying her hair. Soft light. Like a drama still.

[Some tenderness doesn’t need words. It’s just there.]

I stared at that line for a long time.

Dante was on the couch, talking to Dorian. Didn’t notice his phone buzzing.

But he’d see it.

He’d like it.

Like he always did.

Every time. Leaving his mark under her posts.

I went back to the itinerary.

—

“Elara.”

Dorian’s voice from the living room.

“The waterfall tomorrow. How much are tickets?”

“Free. But the experiences inside cost extra.”

“What experiences?”

“Cable car. And a photo shoot under the waterfall.”

Mila sat up on the couch. “Photo shoot? Where?”

I sent her the link.

She flipped through. Her eyes lit up.

“So pretty. I want to go.”

She turned to Dante. “Dante. You take my photos tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

She scrolled more. Suddenly said, “The package only has four outfits.”

Dorian leaned in. “Four’s enough.”

Mila hesitated. Glanced at me.

“Elara. Are you taking photos?”

Before she asked, I already knew what came next.

Because it was always the same.

She asked me first. In a thoughtful way.

Then everyone else found a reason for me to step out.

Sure enough. Dorian spoke.

“Elara doesn’t like dressing up. You said that yourself.”

Last time. A party sophomore year. Costume game.

I said, “I’m fine with anything.” And got skipped.

After that, “Elara doesn’t like dressing up” became a fixed label.

Dante added, “You can take photos for us. You’re better at it.”

There it was.

You take good photos. You’re easygoing. You understand people.

So you yield.

Every time.

I put my phone down.

“I’ll take them.”

Mila smiled. Took my hand.

“Elara’s the best. Help me pick a color.”

I looked at her smiling face. Suddenly realized something.

Four years.

From high school to college.

My place in this group of five was never “one of them.”

It was “the backup.”

Not indispensable. Just convenient.

Convenient for itineraries. For photos.

For stepping out when only four spots were left.

Convenient for the train. For staying alone.

For waiting until everyone arrived.

When did I become this?

I couldn’t remember.

Maybe when Mila transferred in junior year.

She sat beside me. Smiled. Said, “Elara, you’re so gentle.”

Then bit by bit. She sat in the middle of everyone.

And I moved from the middle to the edge.

—

11 PM. Everyone went to their rooms.

I lay in bed. Opened the ticket app.

Tomorrow’s itinerary. Waterfall. Forest sunset. BBQ at night.

I read every word.

Then closed the itinerary document. Opened another page.

A one-way train ticket to another city.

Tomorrow. 8:10 AM.

I stared at the page for a long time. Didn’t book.

Not hesitation.

Waiting for one last reason.

My phone lit up.

Dante.

[Get up early tomorrow. Help Mila blow-dry her hair. She never dries it after showering.]

I looked at that line.

Then pressed book.

Order confirmed.

I decided to leave. Leave here. Leave them.

No exchange. No refund.