How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie couldn't help but look at him, puzzled.

Jarrod closed the door behind him and strode over without a word. He plucked the bag from her hands before she could react.

She reached out to snatch it back but was too slow. Frowning, she demanded, "Jarrod, what are you doing?"

Ignoring her irritation, Jarrod set the bag aside and took hold of her wrist. "Come with me. To the master bedroom."

Elodie's mind immediately jumped to a suspicious conclusion, and she shot him a wary look. "You're not thinking-"

She stopped herself, pressed her lips together, and said firmly, "I have to pack. Don't start with your nonsense. I'm not in the mood for distractions."

Especially not now.

He was still recovering, after all.

She certainly wasn't about to let him get away with anything reckless.

Only then did Jarrod pause. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he stepped closer, feigning innocence. “Nonsense? What's the problem? Is that not allowed between husband and wife?"

away, her scalp tingling with anxiety. She gave him a warning glare. "Are you trying to make your recovery take even longer? The doctor said you're not supposed to do anything

gazed at her, the curve of his lips deepening, laughter

as 'strenuous activity' now?" Elodie was momentarily speechless, staring at him

you meant? Were you thinking I

to be doing

gaze flicked up and down, eyebrow arching slightly. He reached out and gently patted her on the head, as if trying to soothe her. "Maybe you should try to hold back a little, hmm? After all, I have

"But if you really can't help yourself, I

Elodie: "..."

ears. She knew perfectly well he was teasing her, but there was

to brush past

could get

but he didn't let go of

led her toward the

glare

spacious walk-in closet. When she'd moved out of their marital home before, Elodie had only taken a few essentials, leaving

but as she stepped inside, she saw everything neatly