The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 404

Sloane quickly settled into her old, sun-drenched apartment.

She didn't let Garrison help her on moving day—in fact, she hadn't even told him she was doing it.

She dragged her meager belongings to Emerald Grove entirely on her own. She had one small suitcase stuffed with a few changes of clothes and toiletries, her cello strapped to her back, and the only piece of furniture she owned was the creaky wooden bed the landlord had left behind.

She spent her first afternoon scrubbing the place top to bottom, lining the chipped dresser drawers with old newspapers, and placing a cheap pothos plant she had grabbed from the grocery store on the windowsill.

Standing in the center of the room, watching the sunlight pour through the massive steel-framed windows and blanket the peeling floorboards, she felt a profound sense of peace. This rundown little shack was starting to feel like a home.

The following days fell into a quiet, comforting routine.

She woke up naturally every morning, walked down to the local market for fresh groceries, and spent her afternoons teaching herself to cook using online recipes. The rest of her time was dedicated entirely to studying.

Reclaiming her academic status at Riverdale University was a lost cause—it had been ten years, after all.

And with her health still fragile, she couldn't take on grueling physical labor. That left her with only one viable path forward: adult education certifications.

She had always been deeply passionate about sports psychology, and she had been on track for the graduate program before everything went wrong. This time, she was determined to start from scratch, earn her psychology certification, and build a career in the field.

Aside from that, she strictly adhered to her weekly hospital visits.

Garrison personally handled all her tests. She remained perfectly cooperative, leaving the second her appointments ended without offering a single unnecessary word or lingering glance.

The Bio-Trace Patch rested silently over her heart, and she practically forgot it was even there...

*

A few weeks ago, his mentor had looked like a walking corpse—paper-white skin, bruised eyes, looking as though a stiff breeze would knock him unconscious.

He finally had some color back in his face. He was still too thin, but at least he looked human again.

"Boss, these need your signature." Dawson set the files precisely on the edge of the desk, but he didn't immediately turn to leave.

Garrison glanced up. "Something else?"

Dawson hesitated. He pressed his lips together, mentally bracing himself, before taking a half-step forward and lowering his voice.

"Boss, Vitas-1 has yielded absolutely incredible results on Ms. Taylor. The tumor has degraded from Stage Four to Stage Two. The infiltration zone has shrunk massively, the surrounding edema is completely gone, and there are almost zero adverse side effects. The data is blowing our wildest projections out of the water."