Chasing My Divorced Ex Wife

Anastasia

"Ana," Naomi's gentle voice called out from behind me as I sat motionless, staring at the papers Quinn had given me earlier.

I didn't know how long I had been sitting there, but my body felt numb and weak.

Hearing Naomi's voice pulled me back to reality, and I quickly scrambled to my feet, wiping my eyes so she wouldn't see how broken I felt.

"You've been sitting here for a long time," she added, concern lacing her words.

I turned slightly to face her, but I couldn't bear to fully meet her gaze. Instead, I walked past her in silence, the blanket still wrapped tightly around me, and headed toward the stairs where she stood.

Naomi knew better than to ask if I was okay.

My footsteps echoed in the quiet house as I hurried to the room Quinn and I shared. I collapsed onto the bed, the weight of Quinn's words still pressing down on me.

He wanted a divorce.

I couldn't sleep. My mind raced with thoughts, each one darker than the last. Where was Quinn? Where had he gone in the middle of the night? Every possible scenario played out in my head, each one more torturous than the last.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand; the clock showed it was well past three in the morning. My heart pounded as I scrolled through my recent calls, all to Quinn, all unanswered.

I had called him countless times while I sat on the balcony yesterday, waiting for him to come home.

With trembling hands, I dialed his number again.

It went to voicemail. I needed him to explain what he meant by Addison coming over to finalize this. There was no way I was going to divorce him without understanding what I had done wrong.

I tried again, and again, and again. Each time, the call ended with no one picking up. I decided to give it one last try.

The ringing seemed to last an eternity before it abruptly stopped. For a moment, all I heard was silence, and then...

"Veronica..."

He said the name softly, almost tenderly, followed by the rustling of sheets. My breath caught in my throat. Veronica.

Her name was all I had heard him whisper almost every night since I married Quinn. I had asked Naomi, and she confirmed what I feared-Veronica was his ex. The woman he never spoke about, the woman I always suspected held a piece of his heart I could never reach.

Before I could say anything, the call ended. The silence that followed was deafening, as if the entire world had gone mute. I stared at the phone in disbelief, my mind struggling to catch up with what I had just heard.

Veronica.

Her name echoed in my mind, each repetition more painful than the last. I felt like I was suffocating, my heartbeat louder with each thud.

Desperate for answers, I opened my social media apps, hoping to find some explanation, some reassurance that this was all a horrible misunderstanding. But instead, what I found made my blood run cold.

Pictures of Quinn and Veronica Rodriguez, the model, were everywhere. They were plastered all over the internet, smiling together at a lavish party. Her arm was draped casually over his shoulder, her head tilted toward him in a way that made my stomach churn.

And Veronica looked like me. It was uncanny how much we resembled each other.

The resemblance was haunting-the same dark hair, the same delicate features. But where I looked tired, worn out from years of trying to hold our marriage together, she looked radiant, glowing with confidence and joy.

The headlines were brutal, speculating about their rekindled romance, about Quinn leaving me for her. My hands shook as I read each article, each comment tearing my world apart piece by piece.

How could he do this to me? How could he so easily replace me with someone who was, in so many ways, just like me? The realization hit me like a ton of bricks-he had never truly loved me. I was just a placeholder, a substitute for the woman he really wanted.

No wonder Quinn came to me himself. He offered a helping hand when I needed it.

Tears streamed down my face as I curled up on the bed, clutching the phone to my chest. The pain was unbearable, a deep, gnawing ache that consumed me. I had given everything to this marriage, sacrificed so much, only to be discarded like I was nothing.

Veronica Rodriguez. The name would haunt me forever.

I tried to calm myself, taking deep, shaky breaths, but nothing worked. The tears kept coming, the despair overwhelming. The woman in those pictures, the woman Quinn was with, was everything I wasn't-confident, successful, adored. And he had chosen her over me.

No... he didn't choose her over me; he just went back to the arms that gave him solace.

I thought back to our wedding day, to the vows we made to each other. I had believed in those promises, believed that we would build a life together. But now, it felt like a cruel joke, like I had been living in a dream that had finally turned into a nightmare.

I knew I had to confront him, to demand answers, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I was paralyzed by the pain, by the betrayal. My mind kept going back to the phone call, to the way he had said her name with so much tenderness. It was a stark contrast to the way he had spoken to me earlier tonight, with nothing but coldness and disdain.

It occurred to me yet again why he came home drunk and had sex with me. He must have thought I was her.

As the night wore on, I felt myself slipping into numbness, a cold, empty void where the pain couldn't reach me. I welcomed it, needing it to survive what was happening. My heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and I didn't know if I could ever put it back together.

Morning light began to filter through the curtains, and I knew that soon the world would wake up and carry on as if nothing had happened. But for me, everything had changed. My marriage, my life, the man I loved-it was all over.

And all that was left was the unbearable silence of an empty house, and the knowledge that Quinn was somewhere out there with her.

Veronica Rodriguez.

It's now or never. I will go to him and seek answers.