How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 217

Freya nodded at just the right moment.

Elodie glanced at her, hesitated, then finally agreed. “…Thank you. I owe you one.”

After all, she had nothing to do with Joseph—unless it was absolutely necessary, she didn’t want to owe anyone favors.

Joseph could sense Elodie’s distance. He paused, but still nodded. “Alright. I’ll let you know when it’s set.”

Elodie found an excuse to slip away.

Freya watched her go.

Then she turned to Joseph. “Hey, is Elodie’s husband really that awful? She’s sick and he doesn’t even care or stay with her. I’ll never end up with a guy like that.”

Joseph was at a loss for words.

“In the future, don’t say things like that to other people, okay?”

Freya pouted. “Why not?”

“They’re divorced.”

Freya’s eyes widened in surprise. Once she processed it, she perked up. “Really? Then, Joseph, why don’t you ask her out? I like her.”

Joseph ruffled her hair, then looked in the direction Elodie had gone. “Liking someone isn’t a one-way street.”

—

Elodie avoided the siblings and went to discuss her test results with her doctor.

Thankfully, things were still within the expected range.

Even though there hadn’t been much improvement, as long as things weren’t getting worse, she counted it as good news.

After the doctor prescribed a new targeted medication, she made her way back to VistaLink Technologies.

At three in the afternoon, Elodie saw a call from her grandmother.

Her grandmother rarely called during work hours, which made Elodie think something must be up. She picked up right away.

That house had been her project three years ago. From the flooring to the drapes, she had overseen every detail—every brick, every plate, every spoon was chosen by her, piece by painstaking piece. She’d poured her heart into making it their home.

No wonder Jarrod had never liked coming home.

He wasn’t just tired of her—he was tired of everything she’d built.

Last time, Jarrod had changed the locks on the house, tossed out her laptop and a few other things.

This time, he’d simply razed the whole place, without so much as a word to her—even though he knew her grandmother might ask about it.

They’d signed the papers and hidden the divorce, yet he wasn’t worried she might slip up and say the wrong thing?

Why did he tear the house apart? Probably so her grandmother wouldn’t drop by and notice she’d moved out—or worse, catch on that they’d separated.

With the house gutted, there were no clues left.

Elodie glanced at the calendar on her desk, a date circled in red marker.

“Grandma, work’s been busy lately and the commute from the family house is really long. I think I’ll just stay in the city for now.”