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.]

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