How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Emile still looked thin, the effects of chemotherapy leaving him pale and frail. He always wore a knitted beanie to cover his head.

When Elodie arrived, she found him out on the balcony, soaking up the afternoon

sun.

She couldn't help but remember her own early days of chemo-the weakness, the hollowed cheeks. For a moment she drifted, lost in the memory, before snapping back and holding out two carefully wrapped gifts. "Happy birthday, Uncle. These are from me and Jarrod."

For Emile, she had hunted down a rare physics book-something specific to his field that had taken her ages to find.

Once, her uncle had been a renowned physics professor, respected in academic circles and beloved by generations of students. He'd dedicated his life to science, and if not for the events of years past, he might have been as esteemed as Professor Charlie himself.

The other gift, chosen on Jarrod's behalf, was a luxury fountain pen. It had cost over a thousand dollars-practical for her uncle and very much in line with Jarrod's taste.

"Is Mr. Silverstein busy?" Emile asked with a cheerful smile as he accepted the gifts.

Elodie nodded, seizing the excuse. "Yeah, it's the end of the year. He's swamped."

that, now they were divorcing, convincing Jarrod to play along and help her explain things to her grandmother and uncle was nearly impossible. He'd never loved

kitchen, glancing toward the front door. Seeing no one else, she shook her head in mild disappointment and

in shambles, and her grandparents and uncle worried about her constantly. Worse, neither of them had ever received the respect from Jarrod they deserved. He wouldn't even show up in person to explain

was with the daughter of the very woman who had once stolen her mother's research and smeared her mother's reputation. If her grandmother and uncle learned

step up and help her out of this mess-but that seemed more hopeless by the

is normal.

nourishing chicken broth. "You're the one living with Jarrod. Don't worry about me and your uncle. We don't care about

his features. "You haven't looked well lately. Are

Elodie used to go without makeup, but lately she hid behind a polished facade. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but her face seemed alarmingly

the right words. She wasn't ready to tell them about her diagnosis—she could only buy time. "I'm

you have to bend over backwards for Jarrod's family. Worst case, I'll sell this place and give you the money to

easily over ten million. No matter

made this house a home. It should never be sold. It means too much." Rosemary squeezed her hand, her eyes soft with love, and let the matter drop. After dinner, Elodie decided to stay overnight.

barrage of messages from Alexander. Nearly ten in a row, including a collage of photos and

from Sylvie's social media. Her caption: "Happiness,