The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 495

"What about you? Why have you lost weight? You don't need to micromanage the packaging line. Howard is a veteran."

Sloane shook her head, gently stirring her coffee with a spoon.

"I'm not micromanaging. Howard has it completely under control. It's just... I haven't been sleeping well lately."

"Not sleeping well? What's going on?" Garrison's brow furrowed deeper.

Sloane looked down, swirling the coffee in her cup.

The milky latte art broke apart, fragmenting into little swirling vortexes. She rested the spoon on the saucer, raised her head, and met his gaze. Her obsidian eyes were filled with an intense, solemn clarity.

"Dr. Foster, I've been having this recurring dream lately..." she began slowly.

"I dream about a little boy, around five years old. In the dream, he calls me Mommy."

She paused, her finger lightly tracing the rim of the coffee mug. "That little boy... is your son."

Garrison's heart plummeted like a stone.

Sloane continued:

"Garrison, you told me before that we didn't know each other. You said your interest in me was only because I helped you find The White Microbe... Were you telling the truth? What I mean is..."

"Is there really nothing else between us? Did I, or did I not, give birth to your son?"

Garrison's fingers tightened around his coffee cup. His knuckles pressed hard against the ceramic, turning a faint shade of white.

It only lasted for half a second, but Sloane caught every detail.

The cafe was dead quiet. The afternoon sun sliced through the glass window, casting a blinding strip of light across the wooden table between them. Tiny dust motes drifted lazily in the sunbeam.

Behind the counter, the espresso machine hissed. A faint car horn sounded from the distant street corner. Other than that, there was absolute silence.

She had finally started warming up to him. She was finally willing to sit across from him at a table and share a meal. She was finally looking at him without her guard up, telling him they would see Vitas-1 through together.

She didn't hate him anymore!

But if he confessed the truth now, it would all disintegrate into ash. She would shove him away just like she did before, and this time, he wouldn't even be able to cling to the title of her "doctor."

He couldn't endure losing her a second time...

After a long pause, Garrison placed the napkin on the table, lifted his head, and looked her dead in the eye.

"No."

His gaze was unwavering, as steady as it was when he held a scalpel over an operating table. "Ms. Taylor, my son is ten years old now. He was... he was born to my ex-wife."

"I did not know you before."