The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 294

In the wrecked office, documents littered the floor, and drawers hung half-open.

The glass door of the clean bench was ajar, and petri dishes were stacked crookedly on the counter.

The cello lay broken in two. The neck was snapped cleanly off the fingerboard, the four strings dangling limply. The thinnest broken string curled against the body, like a final sigh that could never be undone.

Garrison squatted on the floor, gently cradling the body of the cello as he reached for the severed neck. He ran his fingers over the fracture, desperately trying to piece the jagged edges back together, but they wouldn't align. No matter how hard he tried, they just wouldn't fit.

His hands began to shake. It had only been two hours. Not even two hours!

And the cello was already destroyed. Was it... was it because Sloane still refused to forgive him?

Did she not want him touching her things?

Especially her most prized possession, the only thing her mother had left her.

Just then, the office door pushed open.

"Dr. Foster, what... what happened here?!"

Assistant Dawson stood in the doorway, clutching a folder, frozen like he was nailed to the floor. He pushed his thick, black-rimmed glasses up his nose, his mouth dropping open in shock.

"Did those guys come back?!" Dawson's voice was a mix of sheer panic and furious indignation. His free hand curled into a fist. "Those absolute parasites!"

Garrison didn't turn around. His hands hovered over the ruined cello, wanting to fix it, but too afraid to touch it.

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