How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Esmeralda's birthday had arrived.

It was today, in fact, but she was swamped with work and would have to get through it before making any evening plans.

She nodded absently, her gaze flickering with a trace of hope, as if she was waiting for something.

Suddenly, Elodie seemed to remember and arched an eyebrow. "Ah, that's right— your fiancé's back in town. Got anything planned with him?"

Esmeralda's shoulders slumped as she shook her head, crestfallen. "He hasn't even called. I'm not sure he remembers."

Before Fleming went abroad, he always made time for her on her birthday.

Elodie ruffled Esmeralda's hair. "He'll remember. He's back now, and even if he forgets, you can always remind him. Just tell him you want to spend the day together."

Esmeralda's eyes lit up as if a cloud had lifted. "You're right! And it's Sunday, so he's got to be free."

Seeing her friend's smile, Elodie couldn't help but grin too.

"Is everyone here?" Elodie asked as they walked down the hall.

Esmeralda shook her head. "Not yet, but Alex is inside, chatting with a few of them already."

the base would show up today-they'd be working together

headed up to the third

striking in appearance. Two of them, Elodie

stood up, shot a quick and critical look at Esmeralda clinging to Elodie's arm, then pursed her

to see how she was doing.

Greetings were exchanged.

voice called

Traffic

moment that voice carried through the room, Elodie felt

breath hitched, nerves written all over

a joke or stir up some fun. Yet somehow, there was

a surreptitious deep breath, forced her most radiant smile, and turned

saw who was standing

stood at the threshold, and beside him was a

woman wasn't exactly striking, but she had

knew immediately who she was: Fleming's much-adored

looked around the room. "This is my sister,

so