Ditching Me for His 'Soulmate'? His Loss. Next Stop: My New Life novel Chapter 43

Chapter 3

I couldn’t help myself—I had to dig deeper.

My fingers trembled as I opened the browser history on his laptop.

The first three search queries hit me like a cold slap across the face:

[What does it mean when a girl says you’re like a dad?]

[Is holding hands cheating?]

[Will emotional cheating before marriage come back to haunt you?]

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. Desperation pushed me to scroll further until I landed on his social media accounts.

Half a month ago, Rhys had posted on Reddit under a throwaway account.

The post’s title was brutally honest: [Getting married but catching feelings for a junior colleague. Am I trash?]

He described her: [New girl in the lab, always needs help with everything, has this cute smile and always smells like oranges.]

And then came the confession that shattered me: [Yesterday my fiancée of eight years was trying on wedding dresses and asking my opinion, but all I could think about was how this girl’s lab coat shows off her waist.]

He admitted, [I know I’m scum, but I’m actually looking forward to still being able to “mentor” her after I’m married.]

The thread exploded with over a hundred replies, mostly from men.

[Why settle for the wife when you can have the side piece? Let wifey handle the home front while you have fun with the junior – successful man starter pack!]

Another comment sneered, [Eight years means jack shit. Women are like clothes – time for an upgrade. Sleep with the junior before the wedding so you don’t regret it later!]

[Dude’s an idiot. Marry the fiancée, keep flirting with the junior. Once wife gets pregnant, just say you’re working late at the lab. Win-win!]

Each message was more repulsive than the last.

I scrolled down to see Rhys’s response.

He had replied to every comment: [Never mind, I’m gonna bury these feelings. Eight years together, plus I have responsibilities.]

The replies praised him for being a “good man,” but to me, it was pathetic.

He was giving himself permission to let his heart wander while I was left holding the pieces of what felt like a fragile, empty promise.

Why hadn’t he asked me if I still wanted this hollow commitment?

No—I knew the answer already. I was just waiting for him to come and claim it.

—

Rhys finally staggered out of the bathroom, reeking of alcohol, and pressed a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“What are you looking at?” he slurred.

Suddenly, the entire apartment began to shake violently.

My heart plummeted.

Anyone who’s lived in California knows that sinking feeling all too well.

“Earthquake…” I whispered, dread tightening its grip around my chest.

The tremors intensified rapidly.

The fish tank perched precariously on the bookshelf toppled, shattering on the floor.

Glass shards sliced sharply into my ankle.

Pain flared—a white-hot sting that blossomed into a steady trickle of blood soaking my slippers.

Rhys instinctively threw his body over me, shielding me from falling debris.

We crouched low and made a desperate dash for the door.

Outside, the courtyard was already crowded with neighbors, voices overlapping in a frantic chorus.

“That was a big one! Thank God our building’s solid!”

“I heard some of the old buildings in the new district collapsed!”

The shock sobered Rhys immediately.

His hands trembled as he turned away, pulling out his phone and making call after call.

“Yolanda, Yolanda…”

The rescue team tried to separate us onto different stretchers, but he gripped my hand so tightly they couldn’t pry his fingers loose.

Later, he told me that the moment the earthquake hit, he’d made a vow.

Even if we died, we’d die together.

But now, faced with a similar crisis, he simply walked away.

How can people change so completely?

What a cruel joke.

—

My phone buzzed.

Mia had accepted my friend request.

I’d added her on Instagram earlier, when I was driving her back to the dorms.

After a moment’s hesitation, I tapped on her profile.

For the next half hour, I scrolled through every post she’d ever shared.

And there it was—the explanation for all the questions gnawing at me.

Why my fashion-clueless boyfriend suddenly sported a trendy haircut.

Why Rhys had started peppering his texts with cute emojis and could talk about the latest Netflix shows like a pro.

All those little details I’d ignored—they were signs of his wandering heart.

And all those late nights when his advisor supposedly called him into the lab?

Mia was there with him.

—