The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 74

Perhaps due to sheer exhaustion, Sloane fell asleep.

Garrison sat in the chair by her bed, watching her.

The light outside the window shifted from dull gray to a soft, warm hue, before gradually dimming into the night.

The room was dead quiet, save for the occasional tick of the monitor and Sloane's steady breathing.

Her sleeping face was much softer than when she was awake. Her brow was relaxed, and her eyelashes cast delicate shadows over her cheeks. But her complexion remained ashy, making her look like a fragile porcelain doll that could shatter at any moment.

Garrison watched her, the words echoing endlessly in his mind—"Garrison, you can't control me."

A deep, unfamiliar sense of powerlessness crept up from the bottom of his heart.

Throughout their marriage, Garrison had always believed he was the one in absolute control. Sloane loved him, while he didn't care much for her feelings. He understood the fundamental truth that whoever gave their heart first was doomed to lose.

But somewhere along the line...

Garrison let out a long, heavy sigh.

He reached out, wanting to brush her cheek, but his hand stopped mid-air. His fingers curled inward, and he slowly pulled his arm back.

That evening, Garrison returned to the Foster estate.

Archie Foster was on the living room rug, putting together a Lego set. Hearing the door, he called out "Dad" without looking up. After snapping a few more pieces together and realizing there was no response, he finally raised his head, blinking his big eyes. "Dad, why are you home now? Weren't you working today?"

Garrison walked over, sat down beside him, and looked at the nearly finished spaceship on the floor.

"Archie, want to... go grab some food with Dad today?"

Archie's eyes lit up.

"Yeah!"

It had been a long time since Archie had gone out with his dad alone. He quickly grabbed his jacket, opened the back door of Garrison's Maybach, and hopped in.

"What does 'I guess' mean?" Garrison frowned slightly.

Archie put down his burger, a complex emotion unfitting for his age crossing his little face. He thought for a moment before finally speaking.

"Mom isn't like Quinn. Quinn knows how to do everything. She does crafts with me, helps with my homework, plays games with me... Mom doesn't know how to do anything."

Garrison didn't speak, just watched his son intently.

"She always goes to the wrong classroom when she picks me up, the birthday presents she buys are boring, and she doesn't even know my middle name..." Archie looked down, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes when my friends ask what my mom does, I don't even know what to say."

Something sharp pricked at a corner of Garrison's heart.

"But..." Archie looked up, his eyes shining. "I don't actually hate her. Really. I just... want her to spend more time with me. I want her to know what I like and what I don't. I want her to see how cool my Legos are, even if she doesn't understand them..."

Archie pressed his lips together, his voice barely audible. "Actually, sometimes I make her mad on purpose. I want her to care more about me, even if she yells at me, like my friends' moms who nag all the time. But she... doesn't really get angry. Every time she sees me, she just stares at me blankly..."