The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 432

In the romantic restaurant, the candlelight flickered softly, and Chopin's nocturne flowed through the air like a gentle stream.

Josh sat across from Sloane, his hands gripping the deep blue velvet box so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Sloane, I'm in love with you."

"Be my girlfriend."

Sloane sat frozen, her fingers unconsciously twisting the edge of her napkin. Her expression showed genuine shock and being moved, but mostly, it was filled with hesitation—the kind of hesitation that came from someone handing you their beating heart when you didn't know how to reach out and take it.

In her memory, Josh was still the little boy waiting for her by the school gates. He was the kid who came to her with red-rimmed eyes when he was bullied. He was the younger boy she instinctively shielded behind her back, the one she thought would never grow up.

"Josh, I..." she finally spoke, her voice breathless and laced with an unprepared panic. "I've always seen you as my best friend."

Josh's fingers twitched around the box.

He didn't say a word. He just looked down at the empty velvet case in his palm. He had already slipped the necklace into his other hand while he spoke, letting it warm against his skin.

Then, he stood up.

His chair slid back silently across the carpet. He walked around the table, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. The candlelight caught the edges of his dark gray suit, casting a warm glow around his broad shoulders. He didn't hesitate as he stood right in front of her, leaning in close with a profound, undeniable gravity.

His presence was so commanding and sincere that the surrounding tables unconsciously lowered their voices, and Sloane's breath caught in her throat.

She couldn't deny it—as a man, Josh was incredibly captivating.

But... but...

In the very next second, a memory flashed before Sloane's eyes. A dark alley, the blinding headlights of a truck. She couldn't move. A figure sprinted out of the darkness, tackling her into a fierce embrace and rolling them to the curb.

The man's arms were hard as iron, yet his chest felt incredibly safe.

He had whispered in her ear, *Don't be afraid. I'm here. I'm here.*

And then, she remembered the dream again. The frozen wasteland, the voice that pressed her against his chest and said, *You're not cold anymore, darling. Let me take you home.*