The Godfather Was Too Proud to Love Me, So I Walked Away Chapter 10

The Godfather Was Too Proud to Love Me, So I Walked Away Chapter 10

The exhibition ended well past ten.

Renzo had actually stayed.

When I found him, he wasn’t holding flowers, and he didn’t have any of those absurdly expensive, totally

useless gifts. Just a box.

I eyed it warily.

“What now?”

He held it out.

Inside was a pen.

I recognized it.

The one he had rejected on his birthday.

I looked up at him. “I thought you threw this away.”

“I picked it back up.”

“Why are you digging through the trash?”

A muscle in Renzo’s temple twitched.

I was in an excellent mood.

He pulled something else from underneath the box. A sheet of paper, slightly yellowed with age.

It was my registration form from a young creatives competition when I was seventeen.

In the career goals section, my handwriting sprawled across the page in its usual chaotic glory:

“I’m going to build the greatest beauty brand in the world.”

I had forgotten about this entirely.

“How do you have this?”

“You asked me to submit your application.”

I stared at those words, and something complicated stirred inside me.

He had always known what I wanted to do.

I was the one who had almost forgotten.

Renzo was quiet for a moment. Then: “Odette, I’m sorry.”

He didn’t dress it up with “because I loved you too much.” He didn’t claim he just didn’t know how to express

himself.

He simply looked at me.

“I used to think you would never leave, so it didn’t matter what I did.”

“The necklace, the passenger seat, bringing Serena to the dinner-I figured as long as I explained eventually,

you’d get over it.”

“I used your feelings to validate myself.”

He paused. The corner of his mouth twisted in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Pretty terrible of me.”

I didn’t argue.

It was.

He went on. “You don’t have to forgive me just because I know I was wrong.”

I studied him for a long time.

“Then why are you here?”

“To win you back.”

I almost laughed.

“Didn’t you just say I don’t have to forgive you?”

“Whether you forgive me is your call. Whether I try is–”

He stopped mid-sentence.

I raised an eyebrow.

Renzo closed his eyes, looking like he was physically swallowing the rest of that line.

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

For the first time, I genuinely had no idea how to respond.

After a while, I managed: “I’m not interested in dating right now.”

“I know.”

“And I might not come back after graduation.”

“I know.”

“I could end up staying here for a long time.”

“I know.”

I frowned. “Then what exactly do you know?”

He looked at me for a few seconds, his voice dropping low.

“I know you’re not mine.”

“So I have to start over.”

My heart slammed once, hard.

I hated that feeling.

I had already decided I was done loving him, and yet this stupid organ had zero principles.

I looked away. “Do whatever you want.”

On the walk home that night, the comments appeared in a flood.

[No way. The male lead chased her overseas?]

[At this point in the original story, wasn’t Odette already sabotaging Serena?]

[None of the original plot is happening.]

[Wait-is it because she never fought for any of it?]

My pace slowed.

Exactly.

Because I never fought.

Serena wanted the bedroom, so I gave it up. She wanted the passenger seat, and I stepped aside. Renzo deliberately handed her the family dinner seat, and I just left.

The comments kept insisting I was destined to destroy myself fighting over those things.

But what if I simply didn’t want them?

How could something “destined” happen if I refused to play along?

The text flickered for a long time, then slowly faded away.

After that night, I never saw the comments again.