The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 79

Garrison felt as if he had just taken a brutal punch straight to the jaw. He froze perfectly still.

He stared at her, his eyes slowly turning bloodshot as his chest heaved violently.

He tried to speak, but his throat felt as if it were caught in a vice. He couldn't squeeze out a single syllable.

Finally, he violently kicked the chair aside and forced out a shattered, agonizing sentence.

"You can forget about it.

"I will never sign the divorce papers."

*

The hallway was dead silent.

Garrison walked out of Sloane's room, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths to force down the blazing turbulence in his chest.

He turned to leave, but as he did, he noticed the light was still on in the Dean's office at the end of the hall. The warm orange glow spilled out from the crack beneath the door, stretching a long shadow across the floor.

Garrison paused and walked over.

Knock, knock, knock.

He rapped on the door.

"Come in," Dean Quinton called out.

Garrison pushed the door open. Inside, sitting across from Dean Quinton, was another man.

The man was sitting on the sofa, sipping tea. Hearing the door open, he looked up and offered a warm smile.

He looked to be in his fifties, dressed in a dark gray cashmere sweater. His hair was impeccably styled, with a few streaks of silver at the temples, but it didn't age him; instead, it lent him an air of graceful maturity. His features were handsome and kind, radiating a deep sense of composure and elegance.

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