How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie's heart lurched violently in her chest.

For a split second, her face seemed to freeze, as if something inside her was screaming for attention. Unconsciously, she clenched her fists. "Alright... I'll keep an eye on it for now," she murmured.

She didn't even bother to ask any more questions.

Partly because she hadn't taken her medication in the last few hours, and partly because... well, there really had been something between her and Jarrod.

The sudden possibility of pregnancy caught her completely off guard, leaving her feeling almost dazed.

"What's wrong?" Jarrod appeared beside her, receipt in hand. It had taken him a while to track her down. He glanced at the doctor before lowering himself to study her face with concern. "Are you still not feeling well?"

Elodie offered no response. She didn't want the doctor revealing anything, either. Without a word, she turned and walked out.

Jarrod watched her retreating figure, a flicker of unease passing through him. But Elodie clearly had no intention of talking, so he had no choice but to follow. There was no rush to return to Eldermere tonight.

Alexander, worried about Elodie's state, had decided to stay as well and planned to drive back with her the following day.

Downstairs, Alexander was finishing a phone call. He turned as he heard their footsteps.

After hanging up, he looked at Jarrod. "No need to trouble yourself, Mr. Silverstein. Elodie will ride with me."

Jarrod's eyes flicked to Elodie's face.

But her thoughts were a tangled mess. She didn't even glance at Jarrod, just climbed straight into Alexander's car. She needed space-time to think.

Unaware of what had happened between her and Jarrod, Alexander remained politely distant, treating Jarrod as an outsider. He gave a curt nod and said nothing more, ushering Elodie away.

Jarrod was left standing on the curb, watching their car vanish into the night, a simmering frustration burning in his chest.

This whole situation had landed like a grenade right on his last nerve.

Elodie barely registered anything on the drive, her mind a swirl of worry, right up until Alexander dropped her off at her hotel room.

He handed her the keycard before asking quietly, "Did it scare you?"

Elodie snapped back to herself, shaking her head quickly. "Not really. I just feel... off. Tired, I guess."

That seemed to reassure Alexander a little.

He checked his watch. "Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything, alright? My

flight's tomorrow at two. Take it easy tonight, get some rest."

Elodie hugged her arms to herself and forced a smile.

She showed nothing of what she was feeling.

Once inside her room, she closed the door behind her and ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady herself. Her thoughts were a jumble. noveldrama

Almost without thinking, she touched her stomach, doubt creeping into her mind.

She sat down on the sofa and pulled out her phone, searching online for answers to the question gnawing at her.

After all, she had cancer. Was getting pregnant even possible?

Yet the search results told her there was still a chance-not a big one, but not impossible either.

That answer left her reeling, a storm of emotions she couldn't quite name swirling inside her as she stared blankly at the wall.

She sat that way until her shoulders and neck ached from tension.

Sitting here guessing wouldn't help. She decided she'd schedule a check-up as

soon as she got back to London tomorrow.

As for Jarrod? She'd decided not to mention it. There was no need.

With that, she tried to push the thoughts from her mind.

Then came a knock at the door.

"It's me." Jarrod's voice.

Elodie stared at the door for a long moment, but in the end, she couldn't bring herself to open it.

She simply wasn't ready to face him—not while her mind kept spinning with the possibility of pregnancy.

Outside, Jarrod stood before the closed door.

He knew Elodie could hear him.

She was ignoring him.

He had no choice but to accept it—she was shutting him out.

He figured she must still be upset.

No one could go through a day like this—frightened, blindsided-without needing

time to process.

He turned away and called Andrea.

Andrea handled things quickly.

Elodie had just gotten into bed when the electronic lock beeped.

She sat up, startled, as Jarrod strode in, holding a keycard. He crossed the room in a few long strides, pulled up a chair to her bedside, and sat down,

sprawling comfortably. "Go ahead and sleep," he said.

Elodie glared at him. "What are you doing? How did you even get in here?"

He shrugged, his voice even,

half-serious, half-mocking. "I'm here if you need me. If you want to yell, cry, throw a fit, or just be held-it's your call." He settled in, as if he planned to stay all night, guarding her from the edge of her bed. Cóntent