How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 319

Elodie hadn’t expected him to show up so quickly.

She had no idea how he’d even found out which hospital room she was in.

Jarrod’s gaze settled on her. “What did the doctor say?”

She knew perfectly well he was only here because her grandmother had found out, and now he was forced to put on a show.

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t bother answering. Instead, she dismissed him outright. “You didn’t have to come. Grandma won’t know the difference anyway.”

Jarrod ignored her words, striding over to the bed with his long, purposeful steps. He checked the IV bag, peering at the fluid. “How many more of these do you need?”

Elodie frowned. Clearly, he had no intention of leaving just because she said so.

He glanced down at her pale face, the sickly look impossible to hide. “Is VistaLink Technologies really so demanding? Does every problem have to land on your desk?”

He looked at her, his face impassive, voice as cold as ever. “Maybe you should take a look in the mirror, see what you look like right now.”

It was a harsh, almost mocking remark—dispassionate and cutting.

While he spoke, he unlatched the insulated lunch box he’d brought. Inside were several simple, bland dishes. He set them out one by one on the bedside table and placed a fork next to her hand. “Eat something. It’s all light, easy stuff.”

Elodie glanced at the food but made no move to touch it. She already felt weak, barely had the strength to speak, but she still managed, “This is my business. It has nothing to do with Mr. Silverstein.”

She was reminding him—about who they were now, what they’d become.

Only then did Jarrod finally look up at her.

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t say anything at all.

The silence between them grew thick and heavy.

But he seemed unaffected, showing no inclination to bicker. Instead, he stood and crossed to the water cooler, returning with a cup of warm water and setting it within her reach on the bedside table. He frowned slightly as he adjusted the IV drip, making sure it didn’t run too fast and swell her hand.

He said nothing during the entire process.

Everything he did was thoughtful—yet Elodie didn’t flatter herself that he cared about her, or that she meant anything special to him.

Jarrod had always been meticulous since the day they married. Kind acts like this were just part of his nature, countless and routine. His refinement made him seem attentive, but she knew better now.

Women are sentimental by nature, always searching for evidence in the details—a reason to believe they’re loved, a sign that they’re special. For years, she’d let herself be swept away by those little things.

Three years, she’d fallen for it.