The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 440

Sloane opened her mouth, desperately searching for a way out.

But looking down at the tear-stained ink smudge on her notebook, and then back up at Piper's bright, unblinking, teary eyes, she finally threw in the towel.

"...Fine."

*

Sloane and Piper officially formed a duo. Piper chose the name: The Echoing Fawn.

Sloane thought it sounded like a kindergarten talent show act, but Piper fiercely defended it, arguing, "I'm the fawn, and the echoing is your cello! It's so poetic!" Sloane didn't have the energy to fight her on it and just filled it out on the registration form.

For the next two weeks leading up to the preliminaries, they stayed in the small music room every day after classes, rehearsing until it was pitch black outside.

Piper picked the song 'Passing Through the Human Realm.' Her voice was piercing and crystal clear, carrying a raw, unpolished sincerity that was naturally captivating.

Sloane used her cello to lay down a heavy, resonant foundation during the chorus. The notes moved like a deep autumn breeze slipping through a crack in the door, lifting the vocals up and wrapping around them.

They debated several arrangements before settling on a fiercely minimalist approach. The first half was pure vocals and cello. The backing track wouldn't drop in until the second half.

The day of the preliminaries fell on a Saturday.

Josh showed up outside Sloane's apartment bright and early. He carried a bag of warm croissants in one hand and two hot coffees in the other.

But Piper had beaten him there. She was already standing in Sloane's living room, warming up her vocals in front of the mirror.

When Josh walked in, she lifted her chin defiantly.

"Professor Jace. What are you doing here again? Today is our big competition! Aren't you supposed to be out doing field research with your students on the weekends?"

Sloane pretended not to notice. She took a bite of her croissant, wincing slightly as the hot butter burned her lip, and couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching upward.

The preliminaries were held in the small theater on the second floor of the student center.

The crowd wasn't massive. It was just the first round, so mostly family, friends, and a few random students dragged in by the flyers.

The stage lights were already blazing. Contestants crammed into the backstage waiting area—some furiously tuning instruments, others doing quiet vocal trills against the wall, while others paced in pure panic.

Piper had checked the rundown sheet no less than ten times. The more she looked, the more terrified she got, her fingers turning icy cold. Sloane, on the other hand, was totally unfazed. She had faced far more intimidating arenas as a competitive swimmer; a campus talent show barely registered.

"Act number fifteen. The Echoing Fawn. You're up."

A crew member poked their head out from the stage wing. Piper took a massive, shuddering breath, and Sloane gently tapped her on the back with her cello bow.