Abandoned at the Service Station, I Watched His Taillights Fade Chapter 07

Abandoned at the Service Station, I Watched His Taillights Fade Chapter 07

One year later.

Melbourne, Australia.

The late autumn sunlight streamed through the glass dome of The Glass Pavilion Art Center, pouring down onto the exhibition hall.

It was the design school’s first-semester showcase for outstanding work.

I stood by my exhibit in a simple sweater, chatting with people who stopped to look.

The series was called The Forgotten Seat.

The paintings showed those once-shadowed, broken chairs—but now, woven through the play of light, new branches and blossoms were growing out of them.

“These pieces have so much life. The color work is incredibly bold.”

A warm voice came from behind me.

I turned. It was Gavin Reid.

He was a senior in my program and one of the curators for the exhibition.

I smiled. “Thanks.”

Gavin handed me a hot coffee. “You’ve been on your feet all morning. Take a break.”

“The advisor was just talking you up. Said your merit scholarship reinstatement officially went through.”

I took the cup, the warmth seeping into my fingertips.

In this past year, I hadn’t made anyone the center of my universe again.

I had new friends. A new rhythm to my life.

And I’d met people like Gavin—someone who understood respect and boundaries.

“Nat.”

A hoarse, raw voice cut in from nowhere.

My hand paused on the coffee cup. I turned my head.

Ethan stood three steps away.

He was in a suit, like he’d rushed straight from some business meeting. But the red veins in his eyes and the crooked, loose tie gave away his exhaustion.

His gaze was locked on me, then drifted slowly to the paintings behind me.

On the description plaque beneath them was a single line.

[Dedicated to the girl who was always left behind.]

Ethan’s eyes instantly rimmed red.

He took a step closer, his voice trembling.

“Nat… I looked for you for a long time.”

I looked at him and felt nothing. Not a ripple.

No anger. No hurt. Just the calm of looking at a stranger.

I spoke politely.

“Mr. Bennett. Long time no see.”

That “Mr. Bennett” drained every last drop of color from his face.

He went rigid, his lips trembling.

It was like he couldn’t believe I’d use such a distant, formal title.

“What did you just call me?”

He stared at me almost greedily, searching my expression for any trace that I still cared.

“Are you… are you doing okay?”

I met his eyes, my voice steady.

“I’m doing great. So great I finally don’t have to prove I’m worth being seen.”

Ethan’s breathing turned ragged.

It finally hit him—those taillights disappearing at the rest stop on I-95 hadn’t been an accident. All the times he called me “easygoing” were just my silence after being disappointed again and again.

He lunged forward, trying to grab my wrist.

“Nat, I was wrong. I was so goddamn arrogant. I thought keeping you by my side was what was best for you.”

Gavin stepped forward, calm and smooth, placing himself between us.

His voice was polite but carried absolute, unmoving firmness.

“Sir, please keep your voice down in the gallery.”

Ethan’s eyes snapped to Gavin, instantly blazing with hostility.

He stared at Gavin, then back at me.

“Who the hell is he? Is he the reason you won’t talk to me?”

I stared at Ethan’s entitled, demanding posture and almost wanted to laugh.

“His name is Gavin Reid. He’s my senior.”

“I’m not talking to you because I don’t love you anymore, Ethan. That has nothing to do with anyone else.”

I turned to Gavin. “Let’s go check out the other wing.”

Gavin nodded and naturally took the exhibition catalog from my hands.

We walked away, side by side.

I didn’t look back.