The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 365

She carefully placed the bionic lenses into her eyes, blinking a few times until they fully adhered to her corneas.

Then, she leaned forward, aligning her eyes with the scanner. The cool blue laser swept across the surface of her pupils. The machine read a complete, three-dimensional, living iris structure.

The stromal layer thickness matched perfectly. The frequency of the pupillary margin ridges aligned. The position of the crypts had less than a ten-micrometer deviation.

System Output: Identity Verified.

The heavy laboratory doors slid open without a sound. Quinn stepped inside.

*

Meanwhile.

The Japanese restaurant was tucked deep within an alley lined with ginkgo trees. The storefront was modest, but pushing past the navy blue noren curtains instantly hit them with the warm glow of amber lights and the caramelized scent of grilled eel.

The private room Quinn had booked wasn't a traditional tatami room that forced you to kneel. It was a modern booth with a recessed floor for their legs.

She had remembered Archie complaining the last time that kneeling made his legs numb.

Archie shrugged off his school jacket, tossed it aside, and sat down cross-legged on the cushion. Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he eagerly pointed at the menu. Salmon sashimi, grilled eel, crab roe sushi, and a massive tempura platter—he ordered double portions of everything.

As the dishes arrived one after another, Archie dug in with intense focus. His cheeks puffed out as he chewed, looking exactly like a little hamster hoarding food for the winter.

Garrison picked up his tea cup and took a sip, a faint, involuntary smile touching his lips as he watched his son eat. Archie's eating habits were identical to Sloane's. He didn't talk, he didn't play on his phone, and he absolutely refused to pick up the next piece of food until he had completely swallowed his current bite.

He asked a few casual questions about school. Archie answered absentmindedly, mentioning that he already knew all the material in the textbooks and spent most of his classes daydreaming.

He then added that the best part of his day was swim practice, or shooting hoops with his friends.

Garrison's chopsticks froze mid-air before he slowly lowered them to the table.

He looked at his son. The ten-year-old boy's eyelashes cast tiny, fan-shaped shadows under the warm light as his fingers unconsciously traced the rim of his bowl. "I do. I think about her... every single second."

Archie nodded, as if he had expected that exact answer.

He ducked his head even lower. His voice was muffled, sounding like it was being painfully dragged out from the very bottom of his chest. "I miss her too. I think about her all the time. But... I never dream about her."

"She never comes to visit me in my dreams."

He lifted his gaze. Those eyes, curving slightly upward at the corners just like Sloane's, revealed a heavy, crushing sorrow and confusion completely unsuited for a ten-year-old boy.

"Do you think... she still hasn't forgiven me?"