Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 32

Lydia POV

I woke up at 4:03 a.m. after Dave called my child an inconvenience with a necktie.

And for the first time in a very long time, my chest did not feel confused.

The kind of clear that only comes after your heart has been broken so thoroughly it finally stops negotiating.

I sat up slowly and looked around the room. 1

The lavender diffuser still plugged into the wall. The curtains still half drawn. My water glass exactly where I had left it.

Everything looked normal.

And that was the strange part.

How a life can be ending quietly while the room still looks untouched.

I pushed the duvet back and placed one hand over my stomach.

Still flat.

“Good morning,” I whispered.

That greeting was not for me.

I stood up and switched on the bedside lamp. The room filled with soft gold. Then I walked to the wardrobe and opened it.

One bag.

That was all I had decided to take.

I don’t want to take anything I didn’t come with.

Just one bag. One life. One beginning.

For three days I had been frighteningly efficient. Turns out heartbreak can be very productive. 1

I had gone through every option available to me. And after hours of searching, calculating, comparing, praying, and resisting the urge to throw my laptop into a wall, I had checked my account balance.

Three hundred and twelve dollars.

I stared at the screen for a long time.

Then I laughed.

Not because it was funny. Because if life had not been kicking me in the ribs consistently, I might have found it insulting. But over the past few weeks I had started freelancing quietly: tiny PR gigs, brand cleanups, social media audits: enough to remind me that my brain still worked. Enough to get me some money which I can know use to start a new life.

And somehow, after all of it, I kept landing on the same place.

Country Z.

I first saw it in a dentist’s office at sixteen. Bad fluorescent lighting, cotton in my mouth, resentment in my spirit. An old travel magazine on the side table. A photograph inside – a city washed in gold. Narrow streets. Flower boxes. A tiny caté by a hillside

I tore the page out and carried it through every version of myself.

+15 Bonus

Izipped my tuiletry pouch and tucked it into the bag. Documents. Laptop. Passport. The tests. Only what felt like movement.

When I reached for the jewelry box on the vanity. I paused.

Inside was the bracelet.

Still untouched. Still in the exact box it came in Expensive. Beautiful. Unworn.

A symbol of everything this marriage had been.

Glossy. Costly. Emotionally vacant.

I picked it up, turned it once in my hand, then placed it carefully on the nightstand.

Some things belong to the version of you that almost stayed. 1

1 opened the drawer and took out a sheet of notepaper.

For a moment, I just stared at it.

Then I sat down and wrote. Not too much. Because if I wrote too much, I might start bleeding into the page.

And he did not deserve that much of me.

I folded the note and placed it beneath the bracelet box. Read it once before I let it go.

I love you, but I love my child more. 6

I wish you the happiness you were looking for.

Goodbye.

Lydia.

That was all.1

He had already chosen what kind of man he wanted to be.

I was just finally choosing what kind of woman I refused to remain.

I looked around the room one last time.

+15 Bonus

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