The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 1

"This year, the recipient of the Nobel Prize in Medicine is..."

The live broadcast of the Nobel Prize announcement echoed simultaneously across giant mall screens, subway billboards, and living room televisions throughout the United States.

It was the highest honor in the medical field, drawing the entire world's attention.

Viewers held their breath as the presenter announced in a thrilling, solemn voice, "The young medical professor from the United States, Garrison Foster."

Cheers erupted.

The streets and alleys of the country were instantly engulfed in a wave of celebration.

"Garrison Foster? Is that the doctor from Capital Red Cross Hospital? I saw an article about him. He's only thirty years old. What an incredible achievement!"

"He's the sole heir of the Foster family, too. Look at his photo on the screen. He is absolutely gorgeous."

"His looks are the least impressive thing about him. He's a pioneer in targeted cancer treatments."

"A cure for cancer? That's unbelievable. It's a miracle for humanity."

Excited discussions rippled through households everywhere.

On the screen, the presenter continued with deep admiration.

"Professor Foster is awarded this year's Nobel Prize for his discovery of a specific cancer-phagocytosing fungus. His research has achieved precise, targeted anti-cancer effects without damaging normal cells. By cracking the core mechanism and extraction technology, he has paved a completely new path for the development of miracle cancer drugs, bringing hope to patients worldwide and demonstrating a monumental breakthrough in medical research."

Meanwhile, in the quiet corridor of a private hospital in the United States...

"Ms. Taylor, you can go in now," a nurse said politely, looking up from her clipboard.

Sloane Taylor exited the live stream on her phone, a faint, proud smile lingering on her lips. She pressed a hand to her chest, steadying her breathing before standing up. "Thank you."

This was a prestigious private facility in the capital, far removed from the Capital Red Cross Hospital where her husband, Garrison, worked.

Sloane's heart plummeted.

"How is that possible? Doctor, are you sure there hasn't been a mistake? I was a professional swimmer. I've always been in peak physical condition. I rarely even catch a cold. How could I have brain cancer?"

"I understand how shocking this is," Simon said gently. "But cancer doesn't always correlate with your general physical fitness. The primary cause in your case appears to be a genetic mutation."

"Then... how do we treat it?"

Sloane struggled to process the information. She was only twenty-six years old. She had a young son. The news was a devastating blow.

Seeing the desperation in her eyes, Simon felt a pang of sympathy, but he had to deliver the harsh reality.

"Your condition is already in... the terminal stages. You're beginning to show symptoms of severe compression," Simon murmured, lowering his voice.

"Ms. Taylor, I want nothing more than to fight for your survival, but I have to be honest. Due to the extremely sensitive location of the tumor—right at the intersection of the brainstem and the thalamus—the risk of surgery is astronomically high. The success rate is slim. Targeted therapy will have limited effects and would drastically reduce your quality of life."