Three Hundred Miles Too Late

My mother was critically ill, and I drove five hundred miles back to my hometown alone.

At a rest stop, I saw a video online.

A young man had posted: "First day driving long-distance as a nervous beginner. My ex followed me for three hundred miles, all the way until I got home safely."

In the video, a familiar black Mercedes followed a white car the entire way.

The top comment came from a burner account: "I'm the driver's ex. No other meaning. I just couldn't stop worrying.

"He's timid, but always tries to act brave. I was afraid something would happen to him.

"Please don't overthink it. Don't bother him. I'll feel bad."

The internet exploded.

"What kind of once-in-a-lifetime devoted ex is this? Get back together already!"

I stared at that Mercedes.

The plate number was GB-8860V.

It was my fiancee Vanessa Tomlinson's car.

That morning, she had canceled the plan to drive home with me.

She said her company had an emergency project and she could not get away.

I had sent her dozens of messages, and she had not replied to a single one.

Yet she had time to escort the man she never truly let go of for three hundred miles.

My phone buzzed.

Vanessa had finally texted me: "Is the interstate jammed? Drive safe."

I stared at Vanessa Tomlinson's message, "Is the interstate jammed? Drive safe," and my fingers went so cold I could barely hold my phone.

My mother's critical condition notice was still lying on the passenger seat.

In that moment, I suddenly understood.

Vanessa was not busy. She had simply placed my emergency behind Caleb Pierce.

I did not question her right away.

I only replied with one word.

"Fine."

Vanessa replied almost instantly, as if she had finally completed some routine obligation.

"Have you eaten? Food at rest stops gets cold. Don't eat anything random."

I was about to type when Caleb updated his video again.

He posted a photo of coffee from a rest stop.

The caption read: "Warm. It feels good when you're here."

Beside the rim of the cup, I could see the Patek Philippe watch Vanessa always wore.

Something clogged my chest, nausea churning hard.

I shut off my phone and kept driving.

Halfway there, my mother's attending doctor called.

He said her condition was unstable and told me to get there as soon as possible.

I was so anxious that I pressed the accelerator all the way down.

Because my mind was spinning, I nearly missed my exit.

When I jerked the steering wheel, the car swerved violently, and cold sweat broke out all over me.

I pulled onto the shoulder and only then noticed that Vanessa had called me several times.

For one foolish second, I thought she had finally remembered me.

I thought she was calling to explain.

But the first thing she said after I answered was, "Did you see that video online?

"Evan, don't overthink it.

"He was driving long-distance for