The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 317

The ship's hull was still painted a bright, vibrant orange, though it looked significantly more weathered than it had five years ago.

The Oceanic Glory was no longer a luxury cruise liner. Having served its time, it was supposed to be retired, but a private buyer had repurposed it into a cargo vessel. Now, the deck was cluttered with heavy cargo—crates of freeze-dried food, massive liquid nitrogen tanks, replacement mechanical parts, and several snowmobiles tightly wrapped in heavy-duty tarps.

Garrison stepped onto the deck and looked out at the horizon.

In the distance, an endless jagged spine of snow-capped mountains dominated the skyline. Pure, silent white. They stood like ancient giants cloaked in frost, guardians who had watched the world since the dawn of time.

The snowline along the ridges was razor-sharp, violently slicing the pristine white from the stark gray rock.

The slanted rays of the sun struck the peaks, setting the snow ablaze in a harsh, frozen gold—the kind of blinding light that only existed at the end of the world. Loose ice chunks crashed against the ship's hull, ringing out crisp and clear like shattered wind chimes.

He was entirely alone on the deck.

He stared at the snow-capped mountains, and the mountains stared back.

"I'm back," he whispered in his heart, channeling five agonizing years of suppressed longing into the single term of endearment he had missed so desperately. "My love."

*

Three days later.

The snowcat carved deep, heavy tracks into the ice fields, driving straight up to the towering gray gates of Endurance Station.

Garrison jumped down from the vehicle, his boots crunching loudly against the diamond-hard ice. He looked up at the massive, aerodynamic structure of the station and the Stars and Stripes whipping fiercely in the wind above it.

Five years. He had finally returned.

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