The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 95

Sloane looked down at Garrison's hand tightly gripping her arm, a slight frown touching her lips.

"I know. I won't appear in front of you again. Let go."

Her words were impossibly light, yet they plunged into Garrison's chest like a jagged blade. He looked up at her, his expression shifting from shock, to fury, and finally to utter despair.

His knuckles paled as his fingers slowly, inch by inch, released their hold on her.

"Take care of yourself... Garrison."

The second he let go, Sloane opened the door and stepped out.

The morning sun bathed her in light, casting a long shadow behind her. She walked straight ahead into the dawn.

She never looked back, not even once.

*

South America, Atacama.

The plane broke through the clouds, revealing an endless expanse of mountains below—shades of rust and ash weaving toward the edge of the earth. In the distance, the silhouettes of snow-capped peaks stood silently against the vibrant blue sky.

This was the closest port city to Antarctica: Atacama.

The plane touched down at 3:00 PM local time.

The small airport felt more like a bus station. It had a single runway and one terminal. Stepping outside, Sloane was immediately hit by the biting chill in the air and blinding sunlight. The breeze carried the sharp, salty tang of the ocean.

Rolling her suitcase out of the arrivals gate, she spotted Josh right away.

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