The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 55

At three in the afternoon, Sloane walked into the ground-floor lobby of Evermore Medical Center.

The air smelled of disinfectant mixed with a faint floral scent. She approached the nurses' station in the neurology department and spoke politely.

"Excuse me, is Dr. Simon Yates available?"

The young nurse entering data into the computer looked up. Recognizing her, she offered a warm smile. "Oh, Ms. Taylor. Dr. Yates went to the inpatient ward for rounds. He'll be about twenty more minutes. Would you like to have a seat here and wait for him?"

"No, that's okay. I'll wait in the garden outside. I don't want to disrupt your work." Sloane smiled gracefully.

The garden outside the hospital's side entrance wasn't large, but it was filled with lush greenery and blooming flowers. The afternoon sun slanted down, casting dappled shadows over the stone-paved path. Sloane found a bench in the shade and sat down, resting her backpack on her lap.

She hadn't been sitting long when a rustling sound came from the nearby bushes. A scrawny tortoiseshell cat poked its head out, its round, amber eyes watching her warily.

Sloane paused, then casually unzipped the side pocket of her bag and pulled out a pouch of cat treats.

"Here, kitty. Come here!"

The soft tear of the packaging was distinct in the quiet afternoon air, and the little cat's ears immediately perked up.

Sloane squeezed a bit of the meat paste onto the ground a foot away. The cat hesitated for a few seconds before slowly creeping forward, lowering its head, and licking the treat frantically. Watching that tiny, fluffy head, a look of long-lost relaxation spread across Sloane's face.

"Eat slowly. No one is going to take it from you..."

"Dr. Yates. Oh, the treats? Yeah, I always keep them in my bag. It's a habit."

"How did you pick up a habit like that?" Simon asked curiously.

"When I was little... there was a time I didn't really want to go home." Sloane stood up. The cat instantly darted back into the bushes. She watched it disappear, a lonely edge creeping into her voice. "When I had nowhere to go, I'd feed the strays. After a while, we just became friends..."

Sloane still remembered the day she met her first stray kitten.

It was about three months after her mother had died. Her father brought his new wife and his two-year-old daughter into their home. That night, she heard her father downstairs saying, "These old clothes are taking up space. Staring at them just makes everyone sad. Better to get rid of them."