The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 418

The next day, Sloane had just claimed a window seat in the library, spreading her notes out across the table, when her phone lit up.

It was a rapid-fire string of messages from Piper. The green text bubbles popped up one after another.

"Sloane! Are you free today? Let me buy you dinner!"

"There's this new sushi place right off the north gate, their eel bowls are literally life-changing."

"I went there with my mom once and I haven't stopped thinking about it since!"

"Please tell me you're free today—"

This was followed by a relentless barrage of stickers—cats begging, rabbits crying, bears waving—completely flooding her screen.

Sloane stared at the chaotic avalanche of emojis and couldn't stop her lips from curving upward.

She typed out a simple reply: "Sure."

Piper instantly fired back a screen full of exclamation marks, followed by: "I have a Geology elective in the Science building this afternoon. The professor is super handsome but he ALWAYS talks past the bell. If you get out early, you can wait for me by the door!"

Sloane replied with a quick "Okay," flipped her phone face down, and went back to studying.

At 5:00 PM.

The late afternoon sun had softened, slicing through the hallway windows and painting golden squares across the marble floor.

Sloane walked up to the third floor of the Science building. The hallway was empty; the other classes had already let out. Only the classroom at the very end still had its lights on.

She stopped by the back door and peeked through the small window.

The professor at the front was mostly blocked by the doorframe, but she could see a hand holding up a rock sample under the projector light. Piper was sitting by the window in the third row, her chin resting on her hand, her expression trapped in a vicious battle between 'I don't understand a word of this' and 'I am trying so hard to care.'

Sloane leaned against the windowsill in the hall and checked her phone.

He wore a crisp white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a faint smudge of chalk dust clinging to his ring finger.

He was taller now, broader in the shoulders. He was no longer the bruised teenager curled up on the pavement taking hits from a gang of bullies. He was a grown, composed man.

"Josh?"

*

Josh froze as if he'd been struck by lightning.

The woman standing by the window in the hallway... the late afternoon sun framed her, wrapping her in a faint golden halo.

She was beautiful. Not in a flashy, aggressive way, but with a serene, settled grace that had survived the forge of time.

Her features were delicate but striking, her dark eyes clear and piercing, catching the light like polished obsidian.