How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

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.

was how everyone saw

to accept everything

might be the one to let

pressed her lips together in silence, then changed the

Cara hesitated. "Not much..."

figured. You should get some rest," Elodie said, as if she'd expected nothing

Jarrod wasn't

Sylvie now a warm, welcoming

The house had two: one was Jarrod's private sanctuary, strictly off-limits. The other, open and airy, was where she liked to read when she had the

she'd kept up with the world, never letting

the place-she'd decorated it herself, after all-so she quickly found the

sure, she checked the shelves again, gathering up all the books

that little bit of exertion left

her diagnosis, her body had grown weaker than she'd

the box downstairs—and only then did she notice

thin, pristine layer had

glanced at her

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

She tried again. Nothing.

use the car was

the time.

far from the city. Just walking out to the main road would take half an

fatigue weighing

she was too exhausted to trek out into

decided to stay the