The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 315

Garrison stopped in front of the headstone, leaned down, and carefully placed the white chrysanthemums at the base.

He straightened, took a step back, and sank heavily to the ground, the cold stone path biting through his trousers, but he didn't move.

He sat there, collapsed against the hard surface, hands resting at his sides, his head bowed in deep silence. The wind swept down the hillside, ruffling his hair and rustling the petals of the white chrysanthemums, creating a soft, rustling sound.

"Mrs. Taylor," he began, his voice barely a whisper. "I came to see you for Sloane."

He stopped there, letting silence take over again.

He hadn't known what to call her—'Mom' felt too intimate, 'Mrs. Taylor' too distant.

During the years he was married to Sloane, he had never visited once. He hadn't even known her mother's maiden name. He was her husband, yet he knew absolutely nothing about the woman who raised her.

It was only after Sloane's death that he started coming here once a year, sweeping the grave on his wife's behalf.

"I don't know... if you two have been reunited up there."

He stared at the faded photograph on the headstone, his voice dropping even lower. "If you are together... I imagine she wouldn't want to come back."

His Adam's apple bobbed sharply, as if he were trying to swallow shattered glass.

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