Ditching Me for His 'Soulmate'? His Loss. Next Stop: My New Life novel Chapter 31

Chapter 6

Alexander’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt.

Despite the hesitation, he slowly lifted his hands and gently disentangled Sophie’s arms that were wrapped tightly around him.

“Sophie, from now on, just call me ‘Alexander,’” he said softly, his voice steady yet distant.

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode purposefully toward the third floor.

The bridal suite remained untouched, frozen in time. It was exactly as it had been when he and Victoria were deeply in love. Every detail—the pattern on the bed sheets, the shade of the wardrobe, the height of the desk—had been meticulously arranged by the two of them back then.

And tucked away in the desk drawer were the love letters they had exchanged, hidden away like precious treasures.

This was their little ritual, a secret habit shared between Alexander and Victoria.

More accurately, it had started as a habit he cultivated first.

From the early days of his youth, when the stirrings of innocent love first touched his heart, Alexander found himself compelled to put pen to paper, pouring his deepest feelings into heartfelt letters. Letter after letter, he bared his soul, trying to capture the complexity of his emotions.

What began as a solitary act soon blossomed into a tender exchange after they confessed their feelings to each other.

Victoria learned to reciprocate in kind, writing her own letters filled with love. She wrote whenever she missed him, whenever their hearts clashed in arguments, and even during the darkest moments—when she feared she might not survive.

She was terrified of leaving Alexander alone in the world.

She longed to write countless letters, so that if she were to die one day, he would have her words to hold onto, to read slowly, and to heal from the pain.

Alexander sank down to the floor, clutching those fragile pages, reading each one carefully.

He traced the timeline of their life together—from the shy smiles she gave him at fourteen or fifteen, to the teenage years when they held hands openly and dated, all the way to their wedding at twenty-four.

But then the narrative twisted sharply when she was diagnosed with cancer.

Joyful words gave way to desperate pleas.

As he absorbed the letters, Alexander felt as though he was reliving the first half of his life, falling in love with Victoria all over again.

A flood of chaotic memories surged through him, but this time, he did not resist. Instead, he sifted through them slowly, piece by piece.

“Alexander, stop pulling my braids!”

“Alex, dear Alexander, please help me figure out this problem!”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Not bad—you can still recognize people,” she teased weakly.

“Don’t worry, with me here, you’re not going anywhere,” he replied firmly.

She chuckled softly, the sound light despite the situation.

“With you around, I’m afraid I might die even faster,” she joked.

“Noah, you don’t have to comfort me. I know exactly what condition I’m in,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with sadness.

Noah rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by her stubbornness.

“If you know, then why are you acting so pathetic?” he snapped.

“If I were you, I’d never have divorced Alexander. If he dares to lose his memory, you should punch him until he remembers. And that Sophie girl—just kick her out. What a waste of being a spoiled rich girl all these years in high society, yet you never learned to be arrogant or domineering at all.”

He shook his head, frustration clear in his voice.

“If anyone dares to mess with you, just spit blood right in their faces!”