How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 44

By the time Elodie reached the house, it was nearly nine. Rush hour traffic had eaten up most of her evening.

Cara, the housekeeper, looked surprised to see her. "Mrs. Sinclair, you're back! Have you eaten? Shall I make you something?"

Elodie offered a polite smile. "No need. I'm not staying long-I'll be leaving soon."

Cara's face clouded with concern. "You just got home and you're leaving again? Did you... have a fight with Mr. Sinclair?"

Elodie knelt to open the shoe cabinet, searching for a pair of disposable slippers. "No," she replied simply.

And it was true.

The reality was, Jarrod had a habit of treating her as if she were invisible.

His indifference hurt more than any argument ever could.

Except for the few predictable days each month, they barely spoke at all. Fights? They never happened.

Now, they were simply getting divorced.

Cara had been the housekeeper since their wedding, and she thought she knew Elodie well-thought she was just being stubborn and prideful.

Cara couldn't help but try to coax her. "Mrs. Sinclair, there's no hurdle you can't get over. Couples argue and make up—that's marriage. Didn't you always say so yourself?"

"You love Mr. Sinclair so much, and you're lost without him. If this blows up..."

Would you really be able to back down gracefully?

In the end, you'd just swallow your pride and come crawling back. That's how it always looked.

Elodie paused, momentarily dazed.

how everyone

expected to smile through the pain, to accept everything without complaint, to bend over

might

lips together in silence, then changed the

Cara hesitated. "Not much..."

should get some rest," Elodie said, as if

Jarrod wasn't coming

Sylvie now a warm, welcoming escape. Why would he bother

sanctuary, strictly off-limits. The other, open and airy,

three years, she'd kept up with the world, never letting

all-so she quickly found the book

shelves again, gathering up all the books she wanted to take with her and packing them in a

that little bit of exertion

her diagnosis, her body had grown weaker than

had to ask Cara to help her carry the

thin, pristine layer had already

at

car as Cara went off to bed. But after several attempts, the engine

She tried again. Nothing.

the car was

checked the

take half an hour, and cabs never came

frowned, fatigue weighing

she was too exhausted to trek out into

to stay

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