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

the core data, she returned to bed and picked

been carrying around a few technical volumes on aerospace engineering, extracting

The door creaked open.

glow of the lamp her silhouette

He hadn't left?

crossed to the wardrobe, glancing at the book in her

He'd even recommended it to

that?" he asked, pulling a set of clothes from the closet.

condescending, but the

eyes on the

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

if seeing his quiet,

working hard lately," he

met his gaze, catching the undertone. Was

her, desperate to catch

didn't bother to explain herself. Whatever Jarrod thought was his

more, looping around the bed toward the sofa. That's when he paused, catching sight

second, he froze-just

out of bed, snapping the laptop shut with

looked at her-really looked. She so rarely showed this sharp, defensive edge, and now her eyes

hid some deep, unspoken

caught what was on the screen. But Elodie's reaction reminded him of the time

that same secret she

curling with a cold,

gathered his clothes and walked

probably overreacting-she'd already closed the file

no way he could've

shake the memory of that strange look

off the lamp,