How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie's fever kept coming back, and she never regained consciousness.

Everything she'd been through lately had pushed her to the breaking point, and in

the end, her body just gave out.

Jarrod stayed by her side all night.

By morning, he'd already called Rosemary and Emile, asking them to get to the

hospital as early as possible. He made sure Esmeralda and the others didn't get

left out, either. He knew they were Elodie's closest friends-they deserved to

know what was happening, and he didn't want them kept in the dark.

If he was being honest, part of him just wanted as many people there as possible,

hoping that maybe their presence could give Elodie some strength.

Elodie came to for only a brief moment before she was wheeled into surgery.

Jarrod forced himself upright and, using his wheelchair, made his way to the

doors of the operating room.

His grandmother arrived soon after. Seeing Jarrod in the wheelchair, she

approached, her eyes full of concern as she studied him for a long moment. "At

least you're stepping up," she said quietly. "Your mother told me you've made up

your mind?"

Jarrod nodded. "This is the best option we have."

She hesitated, almost as if she wanted to say more, but finally just sighed. "I used

to hope you two would give us a child. But now, with Elodie's health like this,

nothing matters more than her getting better. As long as you don't regret your

choice, the rest of us have nothing to say."

She'd been through enough in her life to know when to let go. Even if she

disagreed, what good would it do to add to their worry?

Jarrod squeezed her hand gently. "You know me, Grandma."

He was far from perfect, but when he said he'd do something, he meant it.

His grandmother let out a worried sigh, but didn't say anything else.

Soon Emile arrived with Rosemary.

Technically, Rosemary could have signed the surgery consent form herself, but

Jarrod insisted, "Let me do it. If she wakes up, she can blame me for making this

decision for her."

Rosemary's eyes filled with tears. To her, it just seemed like her daughter's short

life had been nothing but suffering. With the risk this surgery held, she couldn't

help but be anxious.

Emile put his arm around Rosemary and gave Jarrod a steady look. "Alright."

Once he finished signing his name, Jarrod realized his palms were slick with

sweat. Every nerve in his body was stretched taut, and a rare, creeping sense of

panic gnawed at him.

He'd never thought of himself as someone easily scared.

But now, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Elias, now in scrubs and prepped for

surgery, came over and caught

Jarrod's eye. "We'll do everything we

can," he promised.

He'd made the same vow to Elodie-he'd get her through this.

Jarrod looked up and, after a moment, nodded. "Thank you."

Elias turned and disappeared behind the doors.

They swung shut with a finality that made everyone tense.

Esmeralda was so strung out she

could barely move; her hands were

clasped together in silent prayer, lips

moving as she begged God for a

miracle. Alexander, noticing her rigid

posture, started nervously digging

his nails into his own hand just to

distract himself. noveldrama

He let out a sigh, gently pried her hands apart, and offered his arm as a substitute

for her to clench.

Her grip was so strong he was certain she'd leave bruises.

The hallway went silent.

No one spoke-only the sound of Esmeralda's restless pacing broke the stillness.

The length of the surgery depended on how things went.

But Elodie had been inside for nearly three hours already.

Esmeralda was sweating with

anxiety. "Tasked. They said it

shouldn't take more than three

hours. Why is it dragging on so

long?"

Jarrod's lips pressed into a hard line. He stared at the closed doors, his eyes

bloodshot and unblinking.

Several times, nurses rushed in and out, each time returning with more bags of

blood.

The sight made everyone's faces drain of color.

It was obvious-there'd been serious bleeding.

Jarrod's expression changed instantly.

His heart pounded so hard, sharp pain shot through his ribs.