I Had Crossed the Finish Line When He Chased Me

Lory’s POV

Tom came running out, holding a steaming cup of tea. He handed it to me, his voice laced with concern.

“Who was that shrew just now?” he demanded. “What on earth happened between you two?”

The warmth seeped into my cold, stiff palms, slowly thawing them. I turned to glance at his strong and resolute face. At that moment, I decided to finally unlock the secrets I had buried in my heart.

“Animals,” I whispered hoarsely. My voice rose with each word, sharp and bitter. “They’re all animals! Do they even count as human? Did something eat their conscience?”

Grinding his teeth, Tom swung his foot and kicked the lamppost so hard it rattled.

He rarely cursed, especially not in front of others. Yet now, he didn’t care about appearances at all.

For a moment, his fury stirred something deep inside me. Overcome, I leaned my head against his chest. His entire body stiffened before he wrapped me in a fierce, almost desperate embrace, as if he wanted to fuse me into himself.

“Tom,” I murmured to him, “do you… maybe like me?”

I remembered the first time we met—how his eyes had lit up with a brilliance I’d never seen before, his expression brimming with the joy of someone who had just discovered a rare treasure.

Whenever I needed a ride, he was there without hesitation, ready to be my driver. If I so much as mentioned a craving, the snack would appear the very next day.

How could someone as sensitive and fragile as I fail to notice his feelings?

And yet, that nightmare from years ago had nearly destroyed my capacity to love. I feared that if I gave my heart again, I’d only end up with the same devastation. What if, in the end, we couldn’t even remain friends?

But Tom’s voice was steady and resolute.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to open your heart and accept me. Until then, just let me stay by your side.”

My nose tingled as my eyes welled. His words moved me more deeply than I expected.

Being with him felt so natural, so comfortable. It had been years—so many years—that I had forgotten what that felt like.

Just then, under the glow of the streetlight, a familiar figure appeared.

“Lory…”

Frayne called my name, his voice trembling.

I shut my eyes and turned my head away, refusing to look at him.

But Tom had already charged forward. His fist smashed into Frayne’s face with a sickening thud, his eyes blazing with a predatory fire.

“Monster! You’re not even human!” Tom roared, striking Frayne again, another heavy punch.

Blood spurted from Frayne’s mouth. Still, his expression was strangely calm.

“This has nothing to do with you!” he said hoarsely.

Tom grabbed him by the collar, his voice laced with scorn. “Nothing to do with me? You harass my girlfriend and dare say it’s none of my business?”

I looked at Tom for a moment, and then I quietly leaned into his side. My silence was my choice—I had taken my stand.

“Lory…” Frayne’s voice cracked, raw with disbelief. “This isn’t true, is it?”

Tom pulled me firmly into his arms, his laugh sharp and mocking.

“What, you think you’re the center of the universe? That everything have to revolve around you? You really do think too highly of yourself, huh?”

“Frayne,” I said flatly, “it’s over between us. The past… Let it stay in the past.”

In that instant, the last trace of color drained from his face. His lips trembled, and tears spilled from his eyes.

“Don’t treat me like this. Please… give me one more chance,” he pleaded. “I’ve been living in regret all these years, Lory. Just… give me a chance to make things right.”

I hooked my arm through Tom’s and lifted my gaze to his face. Then, I looked back at Frayne.

“You don’t need to feel guilty,” I said softly. “We once had happy moments, too. And when couples fight, who can really keep track of who owes what? Does it matter anymore?”

My throat tightened, and for the first time in years, my expression grew solemn.

“Frayne, you have your life, and I have mine. We can’t go back.”

His body shook with grief, as if the words had ripped the last thread of hope from him. He stared at me, greedily memorizing my face, burning it into his mind for the last time.

“I… I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Snowflakes drifted from the sky, the wind battering his unsteady figure until he swayed like a withered tree in the storm.

The wind howled past my ears, carrying his voice away. I couldn’t tell anymore—was it the wail of the wind, or his weeping?