The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 263

He wanted to scream, but his throat seized up.

He wanted to weep, but his eyes were completely dry.

He just sat there, looking like a hollowed-out statue.

A second later, something warm slid down his cheek. It started as a single drop, then another. They quickly formed a steady stream, tracing from the corner of his eye down to his jawbone, before finally splashing onto his clasped hands.

He looked down at the wet spot on his skin.

Tears.

“Who was Sloane to you?” Vivienne's voice broke the silence.

She watched him with a profound stillness—a quiet compassion that only came from witnessing far too much death.

Garrison didn't answer right away. He kept his head bowed, staring at his fingers, gripping them so tightly his knuckles turned a bloodless white. When he finally spoke, his tone wasn't sorrowful or angry. It carried an eerie sense of calm.

“My wife.” He paused before correcting himself. “My ex-wife, I suppose.”

“How long were you married?”

“Five years.”

“Do you have children?”

“A five-year-old son.”

“And... do you still love her? Your ex-wife?”

A bitter smile curled onto Garrison's lips.

It was a fleeting expression on his usually cold, arrogant face, yet it carried a devastatingly tragic beauty.

He looked up at Vivienne. His eyes were bloodshot, the tear tracks drying on his skin.

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