Ditching Me for His 'Soulmate'? His Loss. Next Stop: My New Life novel Chapter 81

Chapter 4

Before I could even finish my thought, Emma’s voice abruptly interrupted over the phone.

“Lucas, are you still packing? Hurry up and get over here,” she urged, a hint of impatience in her tone.

Lucas’s voice softened, betraying a trace of nervousness. “Mia, what did you say? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I’m flying overseas with Emma tomorrow for an exhibition,” I explained, trying to keep my voice steady.

“We’ll talk when I get back,” he promised, but the line went dead almost immediately after, replaced by that all-too-familiar busy signal.

I couldn’t help but let a small, bitter smile curve my lips. I had wanted to confront him face-to-face, to have a real conversation, but as usual, he refused to give me that chance.

In the days that followed, I managed to resign from the company without any fuss. I packed up my belongings carefully, each item a reminder of a life I was leaving behind. Finally, I settled into my new apartment—a quiet space that felt like a fresh start.

Lucas occasionally sent me photos of the wedding venue setups.

[There are so many different styles for weddings. Which one do you like?]

[I think the beach looks amazing. What do you think?]

I stared at the pictures—the elegant floral arches, the delicate fairy lights, the pristine sandy shore—and a wave of sarcasm washed over me. Three years of marriage, legally bound, yet filled with nothing but broken promises and shattered hopes. And now, just as I was stepping away, he suddenly seemed invested in this wedding.

Meanwhile, Emma’s social media was flooded daily with updates—sweet selfies of the two of them smiling together, surprise videos Lucas had made just for her. Their happiness was on full display, a stark contrast to the quiet emptiness I felt.

On the day before the wedding—and also the last day of the divorce waiting period—Emma posted a video that made my chest tighten.

His eyes found me sitting quietly on the couch, and for a brief moment, a flicker of guilt and discomfort crossed his face.

“Emma wasn’t feeling well, so we were delayed coming back,” he explained, his voice tired but trying to reassure. “But it’s okay. I promise the next wedding will happen without any problems.”

Hearing those words, my heart didn’t flutter or hope—it stayed cold and still.

Once again, for the thirty-third time, he had broken his promise.

Without a word, I slid the divorce papers across the table toward him. They were ready, signed, and waiting.

“No need,” I said softly.

“The waiting period is over. Let’s just file for the divorce.”