The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 452

The moment Sloane hit the water, the agonizing cold pierced her skin like a thousand icy daggers.

The water was near freezing. Her velvet dress instantly absorbed the liquid, turning as heavy as lead and dragging her down. Beneath the surface, it was a suffocating, impenetrable darkness. She forced her eyes open, only able to make out the faint, blurry halo of light filtering through the shattered ice above...

She kicked frantically, reaching out blindly into the abyss.

Her fingertips brushed past the freezing water, past floating chunks of ice, until they finally grazed something soft and slowly sinking—Piper's puffer jacket.

Piper was completely unconscious, her face ghastly pale in the gloom. Her lips were tinged purple, and her long hair drifted silently in the current like dark seaweed.

Thank God, there was still a faint rise and fall to her chest.

Sloane grabbed her tightly around the waist and kicked upward with everything she had.

Piper's dead weight slumped against her, entirely unresponsive. Sloane gritted her teeth, pushing her legs to their absolute limit. But just as she neared the jagged opening in the ice, a blinding, agonizing pain exploded in her chest!

The agony hit her without warning. It wasn't the burning need for air—it was a vicious, tearing sensation from deep within her chest, as if a giant hand had seized her heart and violently crushed it.

She convulsed violently, her lips parting in shock, and a mouthful of icy water rushed down her throat.

In that horrifying second, Garrison's warning blasted through her mind: *Your heart and lungs have sustained severe damage. You can never swim again!*

Never... swim again?!

A deafening ring drowned out her thoughts. The freezing water triggered an aggressive constriction of her blood vessels, pushing her heart instantly past its breaking point.

It hurt!

She clenched her jaw, hoisted Piper up, and forced her numb, unresponsive legs to kick. One stroke. Then another. Pushing relentlessly toward the faint glow of the surface above...

*

Meanwhile, Garrison Foster walked out of the Riverdale University gates alone.

The golden fairy lights wrapped around the sycamore trees blinked tirelessly, but the crowds had thinned. Only the night wind swept past, dragging dead leaves across the pavement with a dry, scratching sound.

He popped the collar of his coat, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and walked slowly down the sidewalk.

Behind him stood Founder's Hall, still glowing with life. The muffled cheers and laughter bled through the thick walls, merging into a warm, indistinct hum.