The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 299

Vanessa held his hand, her fingers instinctively tightening around his.

She glanced down at his long fingers. Those hands had once wielded the most precise scalpel in the world, but now they looked rough. His knuckles were pronounced, faint blue veins traced the back of his hand, and his skin was so pale it looked as if it hadn't seen the sun in years.

A sudden ache washed over her, mingled with an undeniable flutter in her chest.

She looked up at his face.

He was only thirty-six, and while he was still devastatingly handsome, all the life had drained out of him. He stood there, neither arrogant nor subservient, neither warm nor cold. It was as if he had buried all his passion and brilliance into a core that no one else could ever touch, leaving nothing but a thin, freezing shell on the outside.

"Your hands are freezing," Vanessa murmured, her voice softer than she intended. "Dress warmer."

Garrison withdrew his hand and offered a polite nod.

"Thank you, Vanessa."

Vanessa picked up her briefcase and turned toward the door. Just before stepping out, she paused and glanced back over her shoulder, as if she wanted to say something else. But in the end, she only left him with a faint smile—one far more complicated than the one she had arrived with.

Woven into that smile was heartache, regret, and pity—along with a subtle trace of greed she hadn't even noticed herself.

*

By the time Garrison returned to his apartment, it was already past midnight.

Garrison leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter and stared out the window. The city sky was a hazy gray; there were no stars and no moon. It suddenly dawned on him that he had spent last New Year's Eve locked in the lab, and the year before that, too. He hadn't actively thought about "the holidays" in a very long time.

Time simply slipped away here without him noticing.

"I know," he said.

He hung up and stood frozen in place.

The phone screen faded to black, leaving nothing but the low hum of the refrigerator compressor echoing in the kitchen.

Six months. How much had Archie grown? He had no idea. All he knew was that tomorrow was New Year's Eve, and he had to make a trip back to the place they called "home."