How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 61

Elodie stood rooted to the spot, her feet as heavy as stone. The absurdity of it all left her breathless.

Those casual, dismissive remarks—

They were nothing short of arrogance, treating her like a commodity on display.

Even the most basic act of having a child had become a matter of whether she was "qualified" enough.

In everyone's eyes, compared to someone like Sylvie—a doctorate freshly returned from one of the world's top universities—Elodie simply didn't matter.

No one realized that these words were just another wound, piling atop her old ones.

The truth was, once her treatment and surgery began, she'd lose the right to ever be a mother…

No wonder, she thought bitterly, even before the divorce, Jarrod had always been so indifferent when they shared a bed. Perhaps, even back then, he'd already decided—

She wasn't worthy of bearing his child.

Elodie didn't want to know how Jarrod had answered Lucinda's question.

His half-hearted replies to his grandmother over dinner told her everything: he had no interest in having a child with her, and he must have agreed with Lucinda's opinion.

Clutching her bottle of pills, Elodie turned and made her way back to the bedroom.

Her breaths came shallow and shaky, her lips losing their color.

She unscrewed the pill bottle with numb, mechanical motions and swallowed a tablet dry. The bitterness spread, sharp and unforgiving, across her tongue.

She couldn't tell which was worse: the bitterness in her mouth, or the ache in her heart.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Elodie forced herself to regain composure.

Sleep was out of the question now. She sat at her desk and began reviewing the project details on her laptop—there was still so much to finalize before year's end, so many problems that needed her oversight.

After updating some of the core data, she returned to bed and picked up a book.

Lately, she'd been carrying around a few technical volumes on aerospace engineering, extracting useful insights as she read through the intricate algorithms.

The door creaked open.

Jarrod entered, his gaze falling on the woman sitting in the soft, amber glow of the lamp—her silhouette delicate and solitary. She looked up at the sound, surprised to see him.

He hadn't left?

Jarrod crossed to the wardrobe, glancing at the book in her hands—*Orbital Mechanics: Theory and Application*.

He'd read it himself. It was dense, highly technical—a modern classic in the field. He'd even recommended it to Sylvie recently, though she'd struggled through it, page by page.

"Can you actually understand that?" he asked, pulling a set of clothes from the closet. His tone was offhand, almost lazy.

He wasn't overtly condescending, but the question itself made Elodie bristle.

She kept her eyes on the page. "Well enough."

She'd read it cover to cover years ago—tonight, she was just revisiting it, searching for new perspectives.

Jarrod watched her, narrowing his eyes as if seeing his quiet, even-tempered wife for the first time.

"You've been working hard lately," he observed.