How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie stood rooted to the spot, her feet as heavy as stone. The absurdity of it all left her breathless.

Those casual, dismissive remarks-

They were nothing short of arrogance, treating her like a commodity on display.

Even the most basic act of having a child had become a matter of whether she was "qualified" enough.

In everyone's eyes, compared to someone like Sylvie a doctorate freshly returned from one of the world's top universities-Elodie simply didn't matter.

No one realized that these words were just another wound, piling atop her old

ones.

The truth was, once her treatment and surgery began, she'd lose the right to ever be a mother...

No wonder, she thought bitterly, even before the divorce, Jarrod had always been so indifferent when they shared a bed. Perhaps, even back then, he'd already decided-

She wasn't worthy of bearing his child.

Elodie didn't want to know how Jarrod had answered Lucinda's question.

His half-hearted replies to his grandmother over dinner told her everything: he had

no interest in having a child with her, and he must have agreed with Lucinda's opinion.

Clutching her bottle of pills, Elodie turned and made her way back to the bedroom.

Her breaths came shallow and shaky, her lips losing their color.

She unscrewed the pill bottle with numb, mechanical motions and swallowed a tablet dry. The bitterness spread, sharp and unforgiving, across her tongue.

She couldn't tell which was worse: the bitterness in her mouth, or the ache in her heart.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Elodie forced herself to regain composure.

on her laptop-there was still so much to finalize before year's end, so many problems that needed her

core data, she returned to bed

volumes on aerospace engineering, extracting

The door creaked open.

amber glow of the lamp her silhouette delicate and

He hadn't left?

to the wardrobe, glancing at the book in her hands-*Orbital Mechanics: Theory and

was dense, highly technical-a modern classic in the field. He'd even recommended it to Sylvie recently, though she'd struggled

that?" he asked, pulling a set of clothes from the closet. His tone was offhand, almost

condescending, but the question itself

her eyes on

cover years ago-tonight, she was just revisiting it, searching

seeing his quiet, even-tempered wife

working hard lately,"

the undertone. Was he implying she was

Sylvie? Trailing after her, desperate

bother to explain herself. Whatever Jarrod thought was his own

the sofa. That's when

second, he froze-just

the laptop shut with a

so rarely showed this sharp, defensive edge, and now her eyes were cool, wary,

if her computer hid some

But Elodie's reaction reminded him

it that same secret she was so

hardened, lips curling with a cold, mocking smile. He

his clothes

probably overreacting-she'd already

way he

couldn't shake the memory of that strange look in his

off the lamp,