How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

She turned her head, her gaze steady and calm. "If the surgery goes perfectly, if

the prognosis is good and they manage to remove all the tumor and cancer cells,

and if I can walk away whole-that would be the best-case scenario. But the truth

is, no one can make that promise."

Given how far her illness had progressed, and the earlier miscarriage that forced

her into surgery, it was clear she'd been through more than anyone should have

to bear.

"Jarrod, you really don't have to-"

"I reached out to some specialists in Europe," he interrupted, his voice low.

"They're working together to come up with the best possible treatment plan." He

turned away, grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl, and started peeling it withnoveldrama

careful, deliberate motions. He didn't look at her, focusing instead on removing

every strand of pith from each segment. If you looked closely, though, his hands

were trembling ever so slightly.

He'd cut her off before she could finish.

Elodie stared at him, silent. She didn't want to give him false hope-she wasn't

even sure what to hope for herself. No matter how she looked at it, the road

ahead was bleak.

In the best-case scenario, the surgery would be a success. She'd need regular

checkups, but her daily life and everything else would go back to normal. But

there was also the chance the operation would fail, that complications would cut

her life short-to just two, maybe five years.

Or they'd have to remove her uterus entirely. She'd never have children of her

own.

Apart from the best outcome, everything else was a burden Jarrod shouldn't have

to carry.

She was just being realistic, she told herself. Jarrod wasn't ready to face these

possibilities, not really. But with something as serious as this, dangling too much

hope was dangerous-for him and for her.

When Jarrod finished peeling the orange, he held out a segment to her lips. She

didn't open her mouth, and he simply waited, hand suspended in the air, refusing

to withdraw.

It was as if they were locked in a silent standoff.

At last, Elodie let out a slow breath.

"Jarrod, there's a good chance you'll

lose both your heart and your money

in this. I hate to admit it, but anyone

would see me as a burden right now.

Your mother was right about one

thing-right now, love feels like it can

conquer anything. But a few years

down the line things might not look

the same. I don't want to end up in

that kind of one-sided situation, so I

think it's best if we-"

"Are you really not willing to try with me?" he said, reaching out and gently

pressing the orange segment to her lips. "Why not wait twenty, thirty, even fifty

years and then ask me if I regret it?"

The tangy sweetness burst in her mouth as she finally accepted the fruit. She

looked him straight in the eye, no pretense. "Is any part of this just pity, Jarrod?"

For the first time, Jarrod met her gaze head-on.

"I love you," he said, his voice rough

with emotion. His dark eyes were

rimmed with pain as he looked at

her pale, fragile face. He realized

that, in a way, he was sick

too, hurting so much from seeing

her like this that it threatened to

break him. Tears stung at the

corners of his eyes, beyond his

control.

Elodie's breath caught in her throat.

Those three words rang out so clearly, so unexpectedly, that she forgot how to

respond.

"I love you, Elodie. Did you hear me?" he repeated.

Words he'd never managed to say before-words he'd always kept back because

of pride, or fear, or some foolish sense of awkwardness-finally came out without

a trace of hesitation.

He reached for her cold hand,

wrapping his warm fingers around it.

"If you don't believe me, then let's

just take our time. You can ask me

again and again, for as long as you

need, until you're sure. But you have

to fight this, Elodie. Get better, get

healthy-otherwise, who am I

supposed to prove it to? Who else

can I say it to?"