How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

After Jarrod finished speaking, he loosened his tie and headed for the shower. As he passed Elodie, he didn't spare her a single glance, as if even looking her way would somehow betray Sylvie. Frankly, whenever he did look at Elodie, all he noticed was the pallor of illness in her face.

Elodie snapped out of her daze, quickly catching on to what Jarrod meant. Her cheeks flushed hot, an embarrassed, helpless confusion rising within her. Did Jarrod actually think she wanted to sleep with him?

"You've got the wrong idea," she said, taking a steadying breath. "I'll be in the guest room tonight."

Only then did Jarrod finally turn back, his handsome face blank and unreadable. By the time he did, Elodie was already gone-no hesitation, just gone. He supposed that made sense. No one likes being rejected; she was probably mortified. He allowed himself a barely-there, dismissive smile before stepping into the bathroom.

Elodie eyed the spotless bathtub but didn't bother running a hot bath. Jarrod stared at the tub for a long time, then turned and opted for a quick shower instead.

Elodie barely slept that night. Jarrod's unexpected return had thrown all her plans into chaos. In the morning, after washing up, she stepped out into the hallway just as Jarrod was coming out of his own room, phone pressed to his ear. His normally cool voice was now gentle. "Yeah, whenever you're free. Just let me know."

Elodie looked away and headed downstairs. That tone-it could only be Sylvie on the other end. She hadn't expected their relationship to be so close, so... intimate.

At the bottom of the stairs, Elodie was surprised to find Jarrod's grandmother already there, waving her over with a warm smile. "Up so early, sweetheart?" she called.

Her gaze flicked to Jarrod, who had followed Elodie down, and her face lit up with satisfaction.

blinked. "Grandma, what brings you here

the housekeeper to bring in a set of insulated food containers. "I heard you switched jobs. Jarrod tells me you've been so busy, you haven't had a chance to come home to Silverstein Manor, and you haven't been cooking for

what he'd told his grandmother? That she was too busy with work to come home, not that

with energy. Jarrod didn't move, and she shot him a stern look. "What are you waiting for? Don't make me

beside Elodie. "Whatever makes you happy,"

Jarrod, "Peel some

Jarrod hated things like this, so she tried to

already picked up a shrimp, his face showing no emotion at

much as lifted a finger for her in the past. Now he was so practiced... He must have gotten

hope to quiet frustration. She knew Elodie was a good girl-she'd known her since she was a child, the granddaughter of her

take a little trip

pleading

unhurried. "I have plans. I don't

were made by people, and people can change them. Is work more important than your own