The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 113

"Daddy, save me..."

"Garrison, help me..."

"Daddy..."

"Garrison..."

"Don't be afraid."

A new voice cut through the chaos, silencing the terrified screams and desperate pleas.

Garrison looked up.

A brilliant ray of golden light pierced the horizon, as warm and glorious as the first break of dawn.

A woman stepped out of the radiance.

She was wearing a midnight-blue dress, cradling a five-year-old boy in her arms. The child had his arms wrapped securely around her neck, his small face buried into her shoulder, peacefully asleep.

The woman walked closer, and closer, until she stood right in front of him.

She lifted her gaze.

It was the same pair of eyes. Deep, luminous, and striking as obsidian. But they no longer held the innocent sparkle of a twenty-year-old. Instead, they carried the exhaustion of thirty years, accompanied by an unspeakable, profound sorrow.

She looked at him and murmured softly:

"It's okay now. I'm right here."

Garrison's eyes burned fiercely.

He wanted to reach out and grab her, to hold her tight, to demand where she had been all this time—

But she gently placed Archie into his arms and turned her back to him.

"Where are you going?!" he roared, his voice shattered.

The woman looked back over her shoulder.

The morning light bathed her face, casting a stunningly gentle glow over her features. She offered a faint, fleeting smile, tinged with profound loneliness.

"To Antarctica."

"You still haven't told me your name!" Holding Archie tightly, Garrison chased after her, but the distance between them never closed. "What's your name?!"

The woman paused and turned to face him fully.

In those dark eyes, he saw immense sorrow, unyielding resolve, and an emotion he couldn't quite decipher—a quiet compassion for the entire broken world.

A day and a night?

Garrison vaguely recalled working continuously for days until exhaustion finally pulled him under. The precious remnants of The Vitas Strain... he had no idea if they survived.

"Daddy!"

Just then, a tiny figure burst into the room and launched himself at the bedside.

Archie stood on his tiptoes, desperately trying to get a closer look at his father's face, his eyes brimming with tears. "Daddy, you're awake! Were you really sick? Does it hurt?"

Looking at his son's worried face, the tension gripping Garrison's chest softened. He reached out and gently ruffled the boy's hair.

"Daddy's fine."

Mr. Foster and Rosemary Hayes walked into the room next. The moment Rosemary saw her son's sickly complexion, her eyes reddened. She sat on the edge of the bed and took his free hand.

"Oh, Garrison, you nearly gave me a heart attack. The doctors said it was severe exhaustion and malnutrition. Why would you run yourself into the ground like this?"

Mr. Foster stood off to the side, letting out a heavy sigh.

Rosemary studied her son's haggard face, hesitating for a moment before she couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Honey, I know you don't want to hear this, but I have to say it. It's just a divorce. There's no reason to tear yourself apart over it."