She paused for a moment, her tone revealing an emotional surge that went far beyond her usual scientific detachment. "This means she can undergo the resuscitation process."
Garrison's heart violently lurched!
It felt as if an invisible hand had ruthlessly squeezed his heart and then suddenly released it. All his frozen blood surged through his veins in an instant, hammering against his ribs, pounding in his eardrums, and striking every single nerve ending in his body.
The phone slipped from his ear, and he instinctively snatched it back, his knuckles cracking under the force. His eyes instantly went red, yet the corners of his mouth pulled upward uncontrollably. It was the first genuine, unmasked smile he had worn in five years.
"Hey!" an impatient voice grumbled from behind, and the passenger shoved him. "Hurry up! The ship's about to leave!"
He stood there, completely unmoving.
The phone was still pressed against his ear, and Vivienne was still speaking, but he couldn't hear a word she said. He turned his head and glanced at the sapphire blue hull of The Aurora. The ship's horn blared for the second time, rushing the last few passengers to board. Then he looked down at the ticket in his hand—Atacama, single trip, window seat. He stuffed the ticket back into his pocket, grabbed his suitcase, and stepped out of the line.
"I'm sorry, I'm not boarding," he said, his voice steady, though every word trembled with electricity. "I'm going back."
He turned around and sprinted in the opposite direction, pushing against the flow of boarding passengers.
His boots hit the ice, sending hairline fractures through the thin surface with every heavy step. The wind whipped the hem of his coat, and his scarf slipped from his neck, tumbling onto the ice. He didn't look back to grab it. Behind him, The Aurora sounded its horn for the third time—a deep, resonant bellow that seemed to punctuate his departure, ringing out like the overture to an entirely new journey.


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