The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 199

In that exact moment, Sloane was still trapped deep within her dream.

Her mother's embrace was incredibly warm.

That cream-colored cardigan pressed against her cheek—soft, smelling faintly of gardenias. Her mother rhythmically patted her back, just like she used to do a lifetime ago. Sloane never wanted to wake up. She was simply too tired. An exhaustion had seeped straight into her bones, crushing her soul until all she wanted to do was sleep in her mother's arms, free from every burden in the world.

"Sloane!"

Someone was suddenly calling her name.

The voice was distant, yet close, as if echoing through a thick wall of ice. The voice was trembling. Sloane furrowed her brow, wanting to swat the sound away, but it refused to leave. It called out again and again—hoarse, desperate, like a drowning man screaming for help.

"Sloane, wake up! Please, wake up!"

Her mother's silhouette began to fade. The warm sweater dissolved like mist, slipping through her arms until there was nothing left to hold. Sloane reached out frantically, her fingertips brushing against empty air.

"Sloane!"

Her eyes snapped open.

The glaring beam of the headlamp blinded her entirely. She squinted, the frost on her eyelashes melting into droplets that slid down the corners of her eyes like tears.

Then, she finally saw the face—it wasn't her mother. It was... Garrison?

It was really him.

He was kneeling right in front of her, cradling her face in his hands, his thumbs gently grazing her cheekbones. His eyes were rimmed with red, the tip of his nose flushed—whether from the freezing cold or something else, she couldn't tell. His lips quivered as if desperate to say something, parting several times before failing to produce a single word.

Sloane stared into those familiar amber eyes. Reflected in them was her own withered, deathly pale face, looking like a flickering candle on the verge of burning out.

But deep within those eyes, she saw a blazing light—a swirling mix of heartbreak, guilt, and a profound, bone-deep devotion of someone who had just reclaimed what they thought was lost forever.

"Garrison...?"

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