How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 169

Elodie's reaction was stronger than she let on. Even with her composed expression, her instinctive recoil and the way she brushed Jarrod's hand aside betrayed her discomfort.

It was pure reflex.

Jarrod stopped in his tracks.

Bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, his deep-set eyes seemed colder, more inscrutable.

He hadn't missed the subtle shifts in Elodie's mood.

He drew his hand back, his tone cool and even. "Fine. Suit yourself."

Turning away, Jarrod sank onto the leather sofa nearby. He reached for a cigarette, fingers searching for his lighter. But then he paused, frowning, and instead slid the cigarette back into its case.

Elodie didn't protest about taking her medicine. She threw back the covers, grabbed the pills Jarrod had brought, and swallowed them all in one go with a gulp of water.

As for the box of dried cranberries he'd left on the nightstand—she didn't touch it.

Jarrod noticed that, too.

After all, they'd been married for three years. Elodie's health had never been robust; she was no stranger to migraines and fevers. Usually, she'd fuss forever before taking her medicine—afraid of the bitterness, reluctant to swallow anything dry. She'd eat handfuls of dried fruit or candy just to get a single pill down.

But just now, she hadn't even looked at the cranberries.

She'd taken the bitter pills without a flicker of emotion.

When had she stopped minding the taste?

Her head was swimming, but Elodie couldn't let go of the ring. She looked at Jarrod, coming straight to the point. "I came back today to ask if you'd consider selling me the ring."

Only then did Jarrod glance at her, his manner almost indifferent. "Sell it?"

She didn't know what he meant by that. Her hands clenched tight as she blurted, "I'll pay whatever you want!"

He gave a faint, dismissive laugh, eyes dark as ink. "Do you really think I need your money?"

The words jolted Elodie, but before she could reply—

"Elodie, is she feeling any better?"

The door opened.

Grandma patted her head affectionately. "Just sit tight, sweetheart."

Once she left, the room slipped back into that awkward chill.

Jarrod glanced at his watch. "It's almost five. I'm going to shower."

Still no answer to her question.

Elodie rubbed her aching temples, her head woozy, and finally got up to grab some clothes and take a shower in the guest room.

Later, downstairs—

She and Jarrod sat at the dining table, one after the other.

Grandma surveyed the two of them, quietly satisfied.

At least that rascal knows how to take care of his wife. He's not completely hopeless.

She served Elodie some salad and bread, her voice warm. "For Valentine's Day, Grandma's made arrangements for you two—a candlelit dinner at a nice restaurant, and… a romantic suite for the night. You should take some time to relax together."