The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 71

Consciousness was like a small boat in the deep sea, drifting and bobbing, lost to time...

Sloane Taylor slowly opened her eyes. She saw a white ceiling and white sheets. The sharp scent of disinfectant filled the air, and the vital signs monitor beside her bed emitted a faint, rhythmic hum.

She massaged her throbbing temples and pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Just then, the door was gently pushed open. A nurse in pale pink scrubs walked in carrying a tray. Seeing her awake, she immediately broke into a smile. "Ms. Taylor, you're awake? How are you feeling?"

"Where am I?"

Sloane had a vague feeling that this wasn't a standard ward at the Red Cross Hospital.

"This is the special observation ward for Project Vitas," the young nurse replied as she expertly adjusted the IV drip. "Dr. Foster personally arranged for you to be here. You fell unconscious last night, and he stayed by your side for half the night. He just left for his rounds. He left strict orders to give you a full-body checkup once your condition stabilized."

A full-body checkup?

Sloane frowned in frustration. At a crucial time like this, the expedition team was about to depart. Why did she need a comprehensive medical exam?

If Garrison Foster actually found out about her brain cancer, all her hard work over the past few days would be for nothing!

Almost instantly, Sloane made her decision—she couldn't stay here.

She threw off the covers and got out of bed, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm fine. I just inhaled some thick smoke. Thank you, but I'd like to go home."

"Ah? Ms. Taylor, you can't do that!"

The nurse hastily set down the tray and rushed over. "You still have an IV in your hand!"

Just as she rounded a corner, the sound of muffled, broken sobbing suddenly reached her ears.

Sloane paused and looked toward the sound.

In a corner near the emergency stairwell, a young boy in a hospital gown was crouched on the floor. His head was buried in his knees, and his shoulders shook uncontrollably as he let out soft, wounded whimpers. He looked no older than eighteen or nineteen, and his frame was heartbreakingly frail.

Sloane hesitated for a moment before walking over. She crouched down in front of him, keeping a respectful distance, and asked gently.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

The boy jerked his head up, revealing a pale, tear-streaked face. Seeing Sloane, he panicked and tried to wipe his tears away, but they only fell faster.

"I-I'm sorry... I... I'm just so upset..." he sobbed out. "The nurse said that Project Vitas ran out of that crucial White Microbe, and they haven't been able to secure a new batch... Our clinical trials might have to... be suspended. I... I might not make it in time..."