How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 427

“They’re staying at that hotel too—it’s the official venue for the conference. If you’re uncomfortable, I can talk to the front desk and see if we can switch somewhere else.”

Alexander was always mindful of Elodie’s feelings. He’d hoped this trip would be a chance for them to relax and have some fun.

“No need,” Elodie said, shaking her head. “It’s got nothing to do with me. We’ll have our own space, and as long as our doors are closed, it doesn’t matter what anyone else does.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Jarrod and his group sat down at a table not far away.

There was an invisible but unmistakable line drawn between the two parties.

They had barely settled in when a little girl with neatly braided hair appeared, clutching a bouquet of freshly trimmed roses. She approached Jarrod shyly, drawn to him, and pulled out a single rose to offer him. “Mister, would you like to give this flower to the lady?”

Jarrod glanced down at the little girl.

Sylvie, sitting beside him, couldn’t help but laugh and asked, “Why’s that?”

The girl was of mixed heritage, her skin a shade darker than the average white child.

At Sylvie’s question, she looked up at Jarrod, earnest and serious. “Aren’t you two boyfriend and girlfriend? A gentleman should always give beautiful flowers to a lady.”

Sylvie was instantly charmed by the little girl’s sweet manners. She accepted the rose and turned to Jarrod, who sat across from her with his usual quiet dignity. “Well, Jarrod, do you like it?”

The little girl looked at Jarrod with expectant, hopeful eyes. He straightened up, reached for his wallet, and placed a generous bill into her palm. “I’ll buy the entire bouquet,” he said kindly. “But we can’t take all of them, so why don’t you share the rest with other people you like?”

Delighted, the girl thanked him over and over, her face beaming as she darted from table to table, handing out roses.

Unsurprisingly, she collected a string of grateful smiles and enthusiastic thanks.

Eventually, a single rose found its way to Elodie’s table. The girl placed it gently beside her and whispered, “Miss, that gentleman wanted you to have this.”

Elodie paused, her cup of coffee halfway to her lips.

She glanced instinctively across the room.

As if sensing her gaze, Jarrod looked up at that exact moment.

Their eyes met unexpectedly.

Elodie frowned and looked away, casting a sidelong glance at the rose—but she left it untouched.