The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 103

The comments rolled down the screen like an avalanche, stacking over each other so fast they were a blur. The viewer count in the top right corner was skyrocketing at a visible rate...

The knuckles of the hand Garrison used to grip his phone slowly turned white.

Those explicit comments—every single person calling her [Wifey], [Goddess], and [Absolutely slaying me]—felt like needles plunging straight into his eyes. He wanted to reach through the screen and wring their necks.

On the screen, Diego was chasing Sloane with his phone. Sloane waved him off helplessly, saying something—the audio in the stream was a bit too chaotic to make out her exact words, but her lips clearly formed the phrase, "Stop filming."

Diego lowered his phone and took a few steps back.

But the camera remained fixed on Sloane—capturing her from a distance, like a stealthy paparazzo.

In the frame, Sloane walked up to the buffet table, grabbed a small bite to eat, and found a quiet corner to sit down.

She ate very slowly, consuming barely anything. Setting her fork down, she suddenly frowned, lifting a hand to press against her temple.

Garrison's heart seized sharply.

She massaged her temple for a long time before dropping her hand and lowering her head. Her chest heaved slightly twice—was she... dry heaving?

The chat began rolling wildly again:

[What's wrong with her? Is she sick?]

[Is it seasickness?]

[She doesn't look well at all.]

[Diego, go check on her, quick!]

[My heart hurts for her.]

The camera began moving forward; it looked like Diego was getting up to approach her. But right at that moment, another figure stepped into the frame.

It was a young American man in a sharp suit.

He was carrying a glass of water, walking briskly over to Sloane. He bent down, placed the glass in her hands, and then crouched beside her, tilting his head up to look at her as he asked a question. Sloane shook her head, seemingly saying, "I'm fine." But in the very next second, the young man reached out, held the bottom of the glass, and gently tilted it—he was clearly helping her drink.

Sloane's lips met the rim of the glass, and she slowly swallowed the water.

He remained crouched there, holding the glass steady until she finished every drop.

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