Why Does The Protagonist Leave In You Can Go Your Own Way?

The night before the study abroad application deadline, the class group chat blew up. [Oh my God, Ryan, why did you switch your application to the UK? Weren’t you supposed to go to France with Emma Bennett?] Ryan Hawthorne replied like it was nothing. [Yeah, I changed it. She has my login anyway.] [Once she sees it, she’ll switch too. She always follows me around. She can’t function without me.] I stood there with my phone in my hand, my mind going completely blank. Scattered across the floor, half tucked between my open suitcases, was the gift I had prepared especially for Ryan. I left the group chat, threw the gift away, and never opened the application portal again. What he did not know was this. He could give up the future we were supposed to share for Sophie Quinn. And I could give him up too. I could choose my own future without ever looking back. All those late nights, all those years of work, had never been only for him.

On the day of our tenth wedding anniversary, my wife, Cara Dempsey, jumped from ten thousand feet in the air after hearing that her first love's plane had crashed. It was only then that I finally understood the only man she ever truly loved all these years was Luthen Waltz. When we were both sent back in time to relive our teenage years, she wasted no time making a grand, public confession to Luthen, completely cutting ties with me. I just stood there, watching the two of them kiss like they couldn’t bear to be apart, and in that moment, my heart felt nothing. From that day on, we were over, and we lived our separate lives. Ten years later, we crossed paths again at a five-star hotel in Harbor City. She, who had become a celebrity adored by the world, was wearing a gown, laughing in Luthen’s arms. When she saw me wandering through the hotel, searching for someone, she thought I had come looking for her. “George, stop wasting your time! Even in ten years, I will never choose you!” I didn’t respond. Instead, I looked toward the little girl running toward me, calling me Dad, and gave her the warmest smile. Cara’s expression froze. Tears welled in her eyes as she choked out, “You lied to me, didn’t you? You said you hated kids and that you’d only ever love me.”

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

Marcello, the Don of the Valence family, has severe PTSD. He’s cold, and he pushes everyone away. But I can hear his thoughts. I know about the possessiveness hiding under that cold front. When he says, “Stay away from me, I don’t want to see you,” what he’s really thinking is: Lilian, don’t go. Don’t leave me. I really need you. Six years of marriage, and I’m used to him never meaning what he says. But tonight, at the family banquet, his assistant is on his arm again, instead of me. I ask Marcello, “She’s standing where the Don’s wife should be. You got nothing to say about that?” Impatience flashes across Marcello’s face. “You’re twenty minutes late, Lilian. You have no right to question me.” “Either go stand in a corner, or get the hell out of my estate. Now.” A second later, his thoughts crash into me: Lilian. Get mad. Slap her. Scream that you’re my wife. Prove you love me. I need to feel secure. But this time, seeing the smirks on everyone’s faces, I’m just… tired. I take off the diamond ring, the one that marks me as the Don’s wife. “Since there’s no place for me here, let’s get a divorce.” Perfect timing. The hospital is sending me to London for a placement. I leave tomorrow.

It was no secret that Lucas, the Alpha of the Redline Pack, had spent ten years pursuing me. He did so patiently and devotedly, never wavering, as if loving me were the only purpose he had in this life. But on the eve of our wedding, one conversation between Lucas and his friend struck me. "You have secretly dated Shane for a while now, but you will Mark Charlotte as your Mate instead?" His friend had asked. "How can the two be the same? How could Shane, a substitute, compare to Charlotte? I might consider keeping her if she behaves herself and doesn't make a scene. Don't worry, Charlotte won't mind," I heard Luca say confidently. But Shane has no intention of behaving. On the day for eh Marking, she stormed the Ritual grounds and pushed me hard making me fall of the center stage unto the grass. Lucas was by her side quickly to protect her not me. Shane had lost all reason from the heart break and had a shard of glass to her her neck. "Choose me or Charlotte right now!" She screamed and I saw Lucas descend into a panic. Shane must have gotten injured in the chaos because I could hear Lucas shouting to clear the way and let him pass, saying he needed to rush Charlotte to a hospital. But I was hurt as well, yet he did not care. "If anything happens to her, you will all pay the price," he had declared. Those words shattered my heart and was the beginning of the end. I now know what to do—booking a ticket and left him forever.

My ex-best friend's birthday is also my mother's death anniversary. When I see Susan Lloyd picking a birthday cake with Hans Luther, I know she's going to snatch my husband after snatching my father from me. I won't let her get away with it, though. I don't want to follow in my mother's footsteps and be forced to jump off a building. So, after ruining Susan's birthday party, I leave the divorce agreement I've prepared and move out of my marital home. It's been less than seven hours since the incident. In that time, I've spent one hour packing, one hour getting to the train station, and three hours getting to my grandmother's house. In my final two hours, I convince my grandmother to let me stay. Hans, I don't want you anymore.