The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 493

"Josh, it's not what you think. Garrison and I are just business partners. Taylor Manufacturing is the packaging supplier for The Vitas Strain. He's the developer, and I'm the supplier. That's all there is to it."

Josh hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around her back.

He didn't press the issue further, simply holding her tight. He rested his chin on the top of her head, his voice muffled but filled with conviction.

"Sloane, you know you can tell me anything. I'm grown up now. I'm not that little kid who needed you to climb over walls to save him from bullies anymore. If the company is wearing you out, you can tell me. If something is weighing on your mind, you don't have to say it, but please don't carry it all alone."

His voice trembled slightly, as if these words had been bottled up for a long time and finally found a way out. "I was part of the Antarctic expedition too. I was on the Deep Ice team. I want Vitas-1 on the market just as badly as anyone else... I just... I just don't want you to be so exhausted."

Sloane lifted her head from his chest. The streetlight caught her face, turning the faint glint of moisture at the corner of her eye into a pale gold.

She stood on her tiptoes, affectionately ruffled his hair, and smiled. "Okay. I know."

*

Sloane returned home and went to bed early. Soon after, she fell into a dream.

It was a sunlit living room.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows stood a ginkgo tree, its golden leaves rustling in the wind. Sunlight filtered through the branches, casting shattered, golden patterns across the hardwood floor.

A man and a young boy sat on the sofa.

The man was Garrison Foster—but he looked different from the Garrison she knew. In the dream, he wore a soft, light gray sweater. His hair was cropped shorter, and his profile looked several years younger. A relaxed, gentle smile played on his lips, an expression she had never seen on him before.

She couldn't bring herself to step into the room, but she didn't want to leave, either.

She figured this must be Dr. Foster's son—already curled up in his dad's lap reading an anatomy book at such a young age. Truly a doctor's kid, fascinated by medicine from the start. Genetics really were undeniable.

Just then, the little boy suddenly turned his head.

Soft, dark hair. Bright, round eyes. When he smiled, the corners of his mouth tilted up to reveal a row of tiny white teeth. At first glance, he bore a striking resemblance to her.

He looked at Sloane, then broke into a radiant, unguarded smile that felt as warm as the sun. He threw his chubby little arms open and lunged toward her.

"Mommy!"