How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie retreated to her room to rest, no longer bothering to concern herself with Jarrod. She'd said everything that needed saying. Now that he knew, she saw no reason to hide her next steps from him.

Jarrod sat in the living room for a long while, his gaze fixed on the gardenia in the vase on the table. Time slipped by unnoticed, until the insistent buzzing of his phone in his pocket finally dragged him back. He checked the screen: several work calls, and one from overseas.

He stepped out onto the balcony to return the international call. By the time he finished and came back inside, it was nearly midnight.noveldrama

Elodie still hadn't eaten.

He wandered into the kitchen and glanced around. Elodie always took good care of herself he could see plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables neatly arranged in the fridge. Years of studying abroad in Verdania had forced him to pick up some basic cooking skills, but this was different: Elodie was pregnant now, so he'd have to be extra careful.

Before starting, he scrolled through tutorials and read up on what was best for expectant mothers-how to supplement nutrition, what could ease morning sickness, and other advice. He knew her tastes well enough, and the fridge was stocked with her favorites, making the task feel easy, almost second nature.

He prepared a wild mushroom and black truffle soup, then whipped up a tangy- sweet blueberry compote to drizzle over a creamy root vegetable mash. When everything was ready, Jarrod took off his apron and quietly made his way to Elodie's bedroom. He eased the door open-she was asleep, facing away from him, completely unguarded.

He walked over and crouched beside the bed, simply watching her face for a moment, then letting his gaze linger on the gentle curve of her belly.

Elodie woke as soon as he entered, opening her eyes. "You're still here?"

"Come eat," Jarrod said, ignoring her cool tone. "I made your favorite." He reached for her wrist, but she slid away from his touch, fixing him with a serious look.

"Jarrod, I think I've made myself clear."

"I know," he replied, eyes lowered. "But what does that have to do with you

needing to eat?" He reached for her hand again, and this time, with a resigned sigh, Elodie let him help her up.

The moment she stepped into the kitchen, she was greeted by the fresh, sweet aroma of the food. She recognized the blueberry-topped mash instantly-a dessert Jarrod had made for her a few years ago. He was always busy with work, but when she craved it, he'd find time to make it for her.

"You don't have to do this," Elodie murmured, a faint sigh escaping her lips.

Jarrod gently guided her to a chair and sat her down. "You're bound to feel uncomfortable during this time," he said softly. "Let me take care of you."

Elodie remained unmoved. "Jarrod, did you even hear what I said to you?"

He met her gaze without flinching. "I'm giving you time to think things through," he said. "You can use that time see if I'm fit to be a father. When you're ready, you can decide. Is that fair?"

He understood she had every reason to hesitate. Her words were barbed, but they didn't make him angry or drive him away. He needed to show her-prove to her-that he could do this, that she could trust him.

He knew he'd hurt her before. He understood why she might not believe him now.

Elodie stared down at the little dessert, the blueberry sauce glistening atop the creamy mash, but instead of sweetness, she tasted bitterness.

She spoke quietly. "You should go home."

But to Jarrod

she seemed just a little less guarded. Standing behind her, he gathered her hair with practiced hands, tying it into a neat, low ponytail so she could eat more comfortably. He'd done this for her countless times, never once pulling or hurting her.

His face remained calm as he gently smoothed her hair, strand by strand. "You don't seem to have much morning sickness,” he said softly. "Looks like the baby already cares for their mom."