The Year She Stopped Being Crazy for Him novel Chapter 309

After breakfast, the four of them piled into the car and set off.

Serenity Monastery was widely regarded as the most spiritually potent retreat among their elite circles.

The hike up the mountain alone took an hour. The Abbot rarely received guests, strictly limiting the number of visitors each day.

By the time they reached the monastery gates, Natalie was completely out of breath.

She unzipped her windbreaker, tugging at the collar of her white cotton t-shirt to fan herself.

Cecily handed her a wet wipe. "Wipe your sweat off. We're about to go in and see the Abbot."

Natalie leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees, still struggling to catch her breath. Before she even looked up, a pale, elegant hand appeared in her line of sight, holding an uncapped bottle of water.

She grabbed it and practically inhaled the whole thing in one go.

When she finally lowered the empty bottle, she realized the other three were staring at her in stunned silence.

Cecily looked bewildered. "Were you that thirsty?"

Natalie wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. "A little."

For the past four years, Cecily had grown so used to Natalie playing the picture-perfect, refined socialite that she had entirely forgotten the younger Natalie, the girl who could easily down a massive bottle of water without stopping for air.

The older woman couldn't help but smile faintly. "Let's go inside."

A young novice monk guided them through the entrance.

Inside the ancient hall, thick incense smoke curled through the air, leaving a fine layer of gray ash over the weathered stone floor.

The Abbot, draped in an ochre-red robe, sat cross-legged on a prayer cushion in the center of the grand hall. The rhythmic, resonant striking of his wooden fish echoed slowly and steadily through the serene space.

As the four of them stepped over the high threshold, the young monk approached the Abbot, softly announcing their arrival. Only then did the old man's wooden mallet stop, and he slowly opened his eyes.

He was incredibly old. His beard was entirely white, trailing down to his chest, and his long, silver eyebrows drooped down the sides of his face, giving him an aura of profound, untouchable peace.

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