How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie drifted somewhere between sleep and waking.

She felt dampness on the back of her hand, and the pain in her abdomen had faded to a dull ache. She recognized these sensations-someone must have given her a painkiller.

Turning her head, she met Jarrod's gaze. His eyes were rimmed red, betraying sleepless worry.

When he saw her awake, he opened his mouth to speak, but his voice caught, dry and hoarse. He swallowed hard before finally managing, "Are you feeling any better? Does it still hurt?"

Elodie shook her head, her eyes falling to where Jarrod's hand clasped hers. The moisture on her skin was clearly from his tears.

"I'm all right," she said, her voice carrying the familiar phrase she'd repeated so often it had become second nature.

The words made Jarrod tense, shoulders stiffening. He couldn't let himself dwell on how Elodie had survived those endless nights of pain on her own. She'd always been the strong one-even her grandmother and uncle had no idea. Elodie had never been the kind to complain.

go. Instead, his grip tightened, as if he was

the Jarrod she used

Jarrod gently brushed the tears from her

"At first, it was. But after a while, you just... get used to it. You accept things the way they are. No matter who knows or doesn't know,

letting others in would only have made things messier-kept those who cared for her up at night, frantic with worry. She'd rather wait until the final treatment, spare them longer periods of heartache, and save herself the energy required to manage their

She was an adult-her problems were

you needed me,

tone even. "Yes, I did. But at the time, you were with someone else. Was I supposed to hope that you'd pity me, just because you

illness, or the fact that time was running out, to keep him by her side? That would have been pointless-and humiliating. If she made a scene and forced him to stay, would she really want his charity? She couldn't bring herself to do

she thought

do was

accusation-only the truth of how she'd

now just how alone she'd been, how her instincts to protect herself were nothing but natural. He was the