You've just watched him turn the corner. He told you to find someone else, because he doesn't think he's good enough. It doesn't matter what he says, what anyone says.
You wouldn't admit it out loud. You wouldn't tell him because you were afraid it would scare him off, though it doesn't matter now, and you wouldn't tell anyone else you know, because you know they don't much approve of him, even from a distance.
But you do. You love him. And, for once, the person you wanted wanted you back, and now he's gone. You don't chase him, because chasing him would mean you felt he owed you something, or that you deserved to have him, and you know you don't. It can't work, you thinking you're not good enough and him thinking the same thing about himself. Maybe it isn't meant to be, but it doesn't change how much it rips at you, that you weren't even the one to drive him away. You feel like a raw nerve, and you run your hand through your hair. You hadn't been thinking about the other thing, either, about how little there is in your life, about how he was one of the only good things in it. Without him, where are you? Back to the job, and nothing more. Happiness, you think, is for different people. You'll just have to keep going on.
At the back of your mind, a quiet, dark presence lends a lick of comfort, an edge of something quieting enough that you get back into the car. You don't even notice it, too absorbed in what you'll do now.