The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 402

Garrison stood behind her, watching her backlit silhouette, feeling as though something heavy had shattered in his chest.

A suffocating wave of bitterness, guilt, and profound heartache surged up, lodging firmly in his throat.

Riverdale University was the most prestigious institution in the country. Getting accepted was a monumental feat.

He remembered Lexi mentioning that Sloane had been recruited on a swimming scholarship. She had majored in economics, but by her junior year, she had already secured a fast-tracked spot in the graduate program for sports psychology.

She was supposed to have a brilliant future, a life entirely different from the one she was living now. But then she married him, and she lost everything...

*

Sloane stood by the front door, gripping her new set of keys tightly. She glanced out the window at the sun, which had already climbed to the peak of the sky, then looked back at Garrison, who was still standing in the middle of her living room making zero effort to leave.

Finally, she spoke up.

"Dr. Foster, I truly appreciate everything you did to help me today. But it's... past eleven now. Shouldn't you... be getting to work?"

Garrison stood rooted to the spot, his jaw twitching. He knew she was kicking him out.

Starting from the breakfast he made this morning, she had been finding every possible excuse to push him away—

She wouldn't eat his food, she wouldn't take his money, and she wouldn't even let him give an opinion on the apartment. Now that she had the keys, her very first instinct was to show him the door.

"I'll go."

He reached into his pocket, his fingertips brushing against a small, cold, coin-sized object. "But... I have one condition."

He pulled out a tiny metal case. It was a matte silver box, barely a few millimeters thick, with smooth, rounded edges like a flattened stone.

He slid the lid open, revealing a perfectly transparent circular patch. It was thinner than a band-aid, catching the light with a faint, iridescent shimmer.

"This is The Bio-Trace Patch."

He placed the case on the worn coffee table. His voice dropped back into his professional register—calm, clinical, and leaving absolutely no room for debate.

Now, he was kneeling before her, head bowed like a devoted knight making an offering.

"Dr. Foster, I can... do it myself."

"You don't know the exact placement. This is a medical procedure," Garrison rejected her instantly.

Sloane had no choice but to sit perfectly still.

Garrison raised his hand, his fingers hovering over the top button of her shirt.

It was a small, round, pearlescent button resting right against her collarbone.

His thumb pressed against the edge, and as he slid it through the fabric, it let out a faint, barely audible click.

The collar fell open, revealing a small triangle of skin just beneath her throat.

Sloane felt a sudden chill sweep across her collarbone...