The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 373

She didn't immediately register the sound; she only felt a sudden, forceful push against her back, though it wasn't overly hard.

She looked down at her chest and saw a small hole in the left side of her nurse's uniform. Its edges were charred, and dark red liquid was seeping out. The stain spread rapidly, tracing a path down the white fabric and dripping onto her bare feet, warm and sticky.

She had been shot.

Only then did the pain catch up to her.

It wasn't a dull ache or a pulling sensation, but a piercing, hollow agony unlike anything she had ever felt. It was as if a red-hot iron rod had been driven through her back and out her chest, turning her body into a punctured vessel, draining all her strength and warmth through that gaping hole. She tried to scream, but only a raspy hiss escaped her throat, like a broken bellows.

The tortoiseshell cat let out a soft "meow," leaped off the bench, and vanished into the bushes.

Quinn spun around.

She saw a silhouette—a human figure dressed in black, sharply outlined in the moonlight.

The figure stood on the wall, pausing for barely a second before melting into the night like a drop of ink, disappearing over the other side.

Quinn didn't chase them; she couldn't take another step.

She looked down at the spreading blood on her chest and suddenly felt incredibly cold.

The chill wasn't external; it was seeping from the inside out, like icy winter water rising from her bones. She reached up to cover the wound, but the blood gushed through her fingers, impossible to stop. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed, tumbling forward before rolling onto her side on the grass.

The dew soaked her cheek.

The moon unfurled before her eyes, dominating her entire field of vision—huge, round, and bright as a mirror, yet cold as ice. A faint halo blurred its edges, like an out-of-focus camera lens pulling her gaze far, far away.

The moonlight fell across her face like a sheer veil.

Her vision began to blur. The phantom spotlights and the moonlight overlapped, making it impossible to tell past from present. If only time could have frozen on that day—frozen at her most dazzling moment, when everyone looked up to her, before everything came crashing down.

But time wouldn't stop.

Her blood kept flowing, soaking through her uniform and into the grass beneath her. She felt her heartbeat slowing, growing fainter, like a clock winding down to its final tick-tock, before settling into complete silence.

The moon continued to watch her quietly.

Exactly like the moon in Stockholm all those years ago.

Quinn closed her eyes.