How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 141

She didn't want Elodie and Jarrod to have much contact.

Nor did she like the idea of Elodie's scent or traces lingering on Jarrod—his clothes, his things, his private space.

Jarrod didn't protest.

He glanced up.

Through the rearview mirror, he caught sight of a slender figure who'd just reached the bus stop.

She swayed slightly, as if fighting a faintness—maybe low blood sugar or something else—forced to steady herself on the metal side of an ad board.

She looked unwell.

His eyes stayed cold and indifferent, but still, he spoke. "Pull over."

Sylvie and Octavia looked up.

Octavia was first to spot Elodie's predicament. She guessed what Jarrod was thinking and muttered irritably, "Jarrod, are you really falling for her act? She's just upset from before and putting on a show!"

"Just ignore her. If you pay her any mind, she'll take advantage." Octavia pleaded, eager to be gone.

Sylvie glanced back too, lips quirking in silent amusement.

Elodie's performances were becoming more frequent.

Neither here nor there, always chasing after a man who didn't love her—how pathetic.

Jarrod looked once more in the rearview, thoughtful for a moment.

Octavia, exasperated, reached out to tug Jarrod's sleeve to distract him.

Instead, her elbow bumped Sylvie's arm.

Sylvie inhaled sharply.

Octavia panicked. "Did I hurt you?"

Jarrod immediately turned back, concern written on his face. "What's wrong?"

Sylvie, seeing how much he cared, smiled gently. "It's nothing. I just bumped my wrist yesterday while checking some parts at the workshop. It's much better now."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was late. I didn't want you to worry." Sylvie shook her head.

Jarrod pressed his lips, then looked at the driver. "Take us to the hospital."