The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 100

The freezing wind blew through the crack in the window, sweeping into the room.

Sloane was curled into a tight ball on the floor, her forehead pressed against her knees. Her hands were clenched so tightly her nails dug fiercely into her palms.

The pain... it was an agonizing, mind-shattering torture that made her want to smash her head into the wall.

It coursed viciously through her veins, draining every ounce of strength from her body.

She had no idea how long it lasted.

Maybe five minutes, maybe ten. The excruciating pain finally began to recede, drawing back like the tide, leaving behind nothing but crushing exhaustion and a layer of cold sweat.

Sloane slowly opened her eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling.

The crystal chandelier cast a warm, yellow glow over her deathly pale face. She realized her back was completely soaked; her shirt clung freezing and damp against her skin.

Just then, her phone buzzed on the bed.

She dragged herself over and checked it. It was a message in their group chat, 'Project Deep Ice Team'.

Professor Harrison: [Everyone, the Captain is hosting a welcome dinner at 8 PM tonight. I encourage you all to attend and relax. After all, we cross the treacherous Westerlies tomorrow.]

Josh: [Understood.]

Coach Jensen: [By the way, did they say we need formal wear? I didn't pack a suit.]

Professor Harrison: [No need. Smart casual is perfectly fine.]

Diego: [What counts as smart casual? Professor, is this orange sweater okay?]

Professor Harrison: [...Try to pick something a little less blinding. Keep a low profile.]

Diego: [But this is my most low-profile piece of clothing.]

Guests stood in small clusters, swirling champagne glasses and chatting in hushed tones. Some wore elegant evening gowns, some wore tailored suits, and others were dressed in smart casual attire like her, but everyone carried themselves with an air of effortless grace.

Standing at the entrance, Sloane was tempted to just turn around and go back to her room.

"Sloane!"

Diego's voice rang out, buzzing with his usual boundless energy.

He was standing a few feet away, aiming his phone for another livestream. He definitely wasn't wearing the orange sweater from the group chat. Instead, he was sporting a sharp, perfectly tailored navy blue suit. His hair was styled flawlessly, and he had on a touch of light makeup, looking every bit the trendy, vibrant young influencer.

Sloane blinked, momentarily stunned by the transformation.

Spotting her, Diego dashed over, immediately flipping the camera lens around.

"Chat! Look! This gorgeous woman right here is part of my Antarctic crew. Come on, Sloane, say hi to the chat!"