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.