Here, a speaker looks back on a private ritual they used to carry out after being left. They set up little tests in their head: if a car turns left, if it isn't midnight yet, if a certain girl sits in a certain chair, then their ex still loves them. It's a way of handing hope over to chance when nothing else is in their control.
The tone is rueful and a bit embarrassed at first ("I know it's silly"), then flat and tired. The twist comes at the end. Every test comes out in the speaker's favor, and the love is still gone. The signs were all "yes," but the answer stays "no." That's what hurts. The speaker admits they never truly believed in the game, yet its failure still lands hard, because it removes even the pretend chance of a different outcome. The last line, with its blunt "no longer," leaves the mood quietly heartbroken and resigned.