The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 283

Sloane swam closer, reaching for the third tier. Her body practically brushed against the rack. The shoulder of her wetsuit scraped off a patch of rust, sending a brown cloud dispersing through the water. The iron box was heavily corroded, its edges sealed by decay. It took her two tries to pry it open, kicking up a thick plume of rust. She turned her head, waiting for the murky cloud to settle, then reached inside and pulled something out.

It was a fountain pen.

Even in the murky water, its craftsmanship was undeniable—a silver-gray metal barrel, a tarnished but distinctly crimson jewel set in the clip, and intricate engravings on the cap. Sloane held it up to the headlamp, inspecting it closely. Satisfied that it was intact, she flashed another 'OK' sign at the camera, followed by a thumbs-up.

"Wonderful!" Rosemary's voice practically beamed. "Come on up. The water's cold; don't stay down too long."

Sloane carefully slipped the pen into her pocket, zipped it secure, and began her ascent.

The footage brightened as she broke the surface. Water droplets slid across the lens, catching fragments of sunlight. She swam to the edge, hauled herself onto the bank, and kicked off her fins. She peeled the top half of her wetsuit down to her waist and pulled off her hood and mask.

She walked up to Rosemary. Her soaked hair clung to her face, water dripping from the ends and soaking a dark patch into her shoulders. Her face was slick with sweat and lake water, but her smile was as radiant as the sunlight dancing on the surface.

"Here's your pen, Rosemary," she said, respectfully handing it over with both hands.

Rosemary took it, turning it over to inspect it. "Mhm. At least it's not broken. Thanks for the effort."

Sloane wiped the water from her face and glanced around the surrounding hills. Her gaze swept over the rusted chain-link fences, the slanted warning posts, and the gray, dilapidated ruins of the facility halfway up the mountain. She frowned slightly, though her expression was one of innocent curiosity, entirely devoid of fear or unease.

"Rosemary," she asked casually, toweling off her hair, "why was this lab abandoned?"

On screen, Rosemary's back stiffened. She kept her head down, intently rearranging her bag, and answered in an offhand tone. "The equipment got too old, so they shut it down. Later, they converted the area into a reservoir for flood control."

Garrison felt violent tremors wracking his body.

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