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.

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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.

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Just at the silence of it.

Then I stepped out and closed the door softly behind me.

I did not look back again.

The airport smelled like coffee, polished floors, and people trying not to cry in public. 1

Which felt on brand for me.

I found my gate as the sun was beginning to rise. Sat by the window with my handbag on my lap and one palm testing over my stomach: 1

Still numb in places. Still one bad thought away from spiraling.

But underneath all of that, relief.

When boarding was called I stood up immediately. No secret hope that my screen would light up with his name. It didn’t. And even if it had, I think I would have boarded anyway.

I found my seat and fastened my seatbelt with shaking fingers.

This was happening.

By the time the plane descended into Country Z, the sky had turned gold. Like the whole city had been dipped in honey and left

out under heaven.

When we landed, my chest tightened.

Not with fear.

With something more dangerous.

Hope.

I looked down at my hand resting over my stomach.

“We’re here,” I whispered.

And for the first time in days, I smiled.

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