The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 448

A few moments later, the host strode onto the stage holding the final vote tally, and the house lights dimmed until only a single spotlight illuminated the center.

The host deliberately dragged out the suspense. "And the champion of this year's Riverdale University Singing Contest is—"

The spotlight swept across the audience like an excited moth before snapping back to the stage.

"The Echoing Fawn!"

The crowd instantly erupted.

Piper let out a deafening shriek and launched herself at Sloane like a champagne-colored blur, nearly knocking her off her feet.

Sloane caught her, but before she could even get a word out, the audience was already in an uproar—Josh was the first to leap from his seat, cupping his hands around his mouth as he roared, "The Echoing Fawn, champions!"

His voice was swallowed by the tidal wave of cheers, but he didn't care, continuing to shout until the veins in his neck bulged.

The geology students he had brought along joined the chaos, some whistling sharply while others folded their programs into paper airplanes and launched them toward the stage.

The business students waved their glow sticks like a glowing, swaying forest, the two departments seemingly competing over who could be the loudest, making the vaulted ceiling of Founder's Hall vibrate with the sheer volume.

Piper wiped her tears and snot on Sloane's shoulder before bursting into laughter, grabbing Sloane's hand and hoisting it high into the air to wave at the cheering crowd.

Shortly after, the host invited the university president to present the award.

Mildred Fairfax rose from the VIP section, took the trophy and certificate from the hostess, and stepped onto the stage. She wore a deep crimson blazer tonight, her hair styled a bit neater than usual, and her smile carried its signature gentle, unhurried warmth—but her eyes shone with undeniable pride.

The music, the roaring cheers, Piper crying and laughing beside her—everything around her was an overwhelming, boiling sea of energy.

Yet, her gaze unconsciously slipped past it all, landing squarely on the darkest corner of the auditorium—Garrison was still there.

Amidst the sea of glow sticks, deafening screams, and blaring music, he sat entirely alone.

Everyone else around him was on their feet, but he remained seated, hands resting on his knees, his posture impeccably straight. He was clapping along with the rest of them, but his movements were slow, his palms meeting in a silent rhythm lost to the distance, looking like a scene from an old, muted film.

When Sloane's gaze cut through the crowd and found him, he didn't look away.

He simply watched her in silence. His gaze was impossibly heavy, carrying something she couldn't quite name—not disappointment, not sorrow, but a profound, unspoken intensity that felt as though it had been weathering the test of time.