A Seven-Seat Suv Couldn’t Fit Five People. So I Stopped Being Their Tool Chapter 06

A Seven-Seat Suv Couldn’t Fit Five People. So I Stopped Being Their Tool Chapter 06

Three and a half hours on the train. I never turned my phone on.

By the time I reached the new city, it was 1 PM. Bright sunlight at the station exit.

I found a budget hotel. Dropped my bags. Showered.

Then I turned my phone on.

Messages flooded in like an avalanche.

Ninety-plus unread in the five-person group.

Seventeen missed calls from Dante.

One voice message from Dorian. Didn’t need to open it. Knew what it said.

Julian: [You there?]

Mila’s was the longest. A voice message and text mixed together.

I scrolled from the top.

9 AM. Dorian: Go as planned.

9:30. Dante: [Elara, send the screenshot of today’s route from the itinerary.]

No reply.

Because he was messaging me.

10 AM. Mila: [Do we need to buy tickets in advance?]

[Elara seemed to have booked something.]

Dorian: [She must have. Check her itinerary.]

Only then did Dante open the document I’d sent to the group.

10:40. [She wrote the booking code. But it needs our IDs to operate.]

Dorian: [Then do it.]

Dante: [She didn’t send the booking link. Only a screenshot.]

Julian’s first message: [I checked. You can book on-site. But there’s a line.]

They waited an hour.

At lunch, Mila posted a photo. Four of them at a burger place outside the attraction.

[One person short. Burgers don’t taste as good.]

Someone commented: who’s missing?

Mila: [Elara had to leave early.]

Dorian: [Just throwing a little fit. Ignore her.]

I looked at “throwing a little fit.” Closed the chat.

Afternoon. I went to the old town alone. Beautiful. Not crowded.

Not on the itinerary. Recommended by the hotel front desk.

She’d said it was quiet in the afternoon. Best for sunset.

I walked slowly down the street.

No camera in hand. No one to take photos for.

At an intersection, a group was waiting for the bus.

Five people. Three men, two women. Tourists too.

Lots of luggage. The bus had few seats left.

One guy said, “Too much luggage. Someone might need to send some ahead.”

Another girl checked her phone.

“There’s a courier station nearby. Send it back to the hotel.”

No one said, “You take the next one.”

No one said, “You handle things best. Go ahead alone.”

Too much luggage? Send it.

Not enough seats? Figure it out together.

Not leave one person behind.

They stood there for three minutes. Then all walked into the courier station.

I watched from the roadside. Sunlight filtering through the plane trees.

My eyes felt hot.

Not from sadness.

From realizing. So this is what normal looks like.

When there aren’t enough spots, no one has to disappear.

I walked the old town until evening.

Bought a cheese hot dog. Sat on the steps. Ate.

Phone buzzed. Dante.

[Where are you? Give me an exact location.]

I replied.

[Galena. Starting tomorrow, I’m following my own route.]

He replied fast.

[What do you mean, your own route? We agreed to travel together.]

I typed a few words. Deleted them.

Sent something flat.

[You go yours. I’ll go mine.]

No reply.

Probably angry.

When Dante was angry, he’d go cold.

He was sure I’d come back in a few days.

That’s how it always was.

Not this time.