The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 145

Simon clicked open another file.

"This is from 2022. Also normal."

Another sea of green text.

"2023," Simon paused slightly, "was normal as well."

The third report. The fourth. The fifth. Every single one was glowing green, explicitly stating, "No abnormalities detected."

Garrison's brow furrowed tightly.

"Then she..."

"Wait," Simon interrupted, his voice dropping softly. "Look at this one."

He clicked on the next file.

The timestamp read: January 2024.

The colors on the screen completely shifted.

The green was gone. Replaced by yellow, orange, and a blinding, terrifying red.

"Abnormal tumor markers." Simon pointed to a row of terrifying statistics. "CA19-9, eight times the upper normal limit. CA125, twelve times the upper limit. And this—"

He opened another tab, displaying a brain imaging scan.

On the gray-and-white cross-section of the brain, there was a dark shadow about the size of a dime. Its edges were jagged and blurred, creeping outward like a drop of black ink slowly bleeding into parchment.

"We performed a contrast MRI and found this." Simon's voice was agonizingly calm, like a professor discussing a theoretical case study. "The location was terrible. Right near the brainstem. We consulted three top specialists, and the consensus was unanimous—"

He took a breath.

"Glioblastoma Multiforme, Stage IV."

Garrison remained dead silent.

As a world-class oncology expert, he knew immediately that the hospital's diagnosis was flawlessly accurate.

"She said she had successfully contacted your Project Vitas lab, and that you had personally agreed to treat her. I was... so thrilled for her. Because the tumor's location made standard surgery incredibly risky, but if she could be treated with your revolutionary active culture tech, she actually had a real chance..."

The office plunged into a horrifying silence. The only sounds were the soft hum of the computer fan and the cicadas buzzing outside the window.

Garrison stared at that rapidly expanding black void on the screen. He stared at the numbers that had bled from green into red.

And then he saw the exact date of that first horrifying diagnosis in January. It was... the exact same day he had been in Stockholm accepting his medical award! She had flown all the way from The United States to Europe just to tell him this?!

A memory violently crashed into his mind. Her voice echoing: "I need to tell you something..."

She never finished that sentence... because he never gave her the chance.

He remembered her drastic, terrifying weight loss. He remembered her deathly pale complexion. He remembered the white pill he had found dropped at the cemetery!

God, right before she fainted, she had been desperately whispering the word 'medicine'. How much agony had she been in at that exact moment?!

There were so many clues! So many undeniable signs!

How could he have been so blind?!