The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 471

Jackson had just finished throwing up. He lay slumped against the hospital bed, gasping for air, his complexion as pale and lifeless as a dead leaf.

A nurse was changing his IV drip. The steady beep of the heart monitor felt unbearably monotonous in the quiet room.

The door was pushed open. Assuming it was a doctor doing rounds, Jackson forced his heavy eyelids open—and then froze as if struck by lightning.

Garrison walked in, but it wasn't Garrison that made his pupils dilate. It was the person walking behind him.

Sloane.

She was wearing a simple camel-colored coat, her hair tied back casually. She stood in the doorway, refusing to step further inside, simply staring at the emaciated old man on the bed.

Jackson's eyes instantly welled up with red.

He frantically waved the nurse out, then gripped the edge of the bed, struggling to sit up. His arms shook violently, rattling the IV stand.

Garrison strode over, placing a firm hand on his shoulder to guide him back down. "Mr. Taylor, please lie down."

Sloane stood by the door, her body trembling slightly.

She stared at the man on the bed. He was even thinner than in the video. His cheekbones jutted out like sharp ridges, and the skin on the back of his hands was so translucent she could see the dark veins and bruising beneath. The skin around the IV port was swollen and purple.

Her eyes slowly turned red, her eyelashes fluttering, but she pressed her lips into a tight line, refusing to utter a single word.

Jackson spoke first. His voice was raspy and trembling, as if drawing on the last ounce of strength he possessed, but he smiled.

Tears streamed down Jackson's face.

He nodded, his hand still hovering in the air, refusing to pull back. "I know. I don't expect your forgiveness. Ending up like this is my retribution. Everything you said is true. I acknowledge all of it. I was not a good father."

Sloane wept silently, her shoulders shaking. Jackson slowly lowered his hand, leaning back against the pillows and staring at the ceiling with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

"Sloane. After I'm gone, no matter what hardships you face, you have to live well."

"You have your cello, your studies, and reliable people by your side. Don't worry about me, and don't carry any burdens. I owe you too much to repay in this lifetime."

"In the next life... if there is one, I will make it up to you."