How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 705

Sprague was on his way, and after a moment’s hesitation, Elodie decided to follow along.

Right in front of her, Jarrod entered the passcode. It was the same sequence she’d seen at their old place—the same one from their wedding apartment.

But as she stepped inside, she realized something startling: the décor here was absolutely identical to hers, down to the smallest detail. The floors, the tables and chairs, even the trinkets on the shelves and the curtains hanging in the windows—every last piece mirrored her own home.

For a split second, Elodie wondered if she was seeing things.

“When did you do all this?” she asked. As she spoke, Jarrod was already crouched by the shoe cabinet, pulling out a pair of women’s slippers—her usual brand and style.

He set them down by her feet, then looked up with a hint of a smile. “Are you planning to charge me for the design rights?”

“If you want to pay, just send the money,” Elodie replied dryly. What was the point of all this verbal sparring?

Jarrod straightened up and walked farther in. “No problem. I usually use Venmo. Want to add me?”

Elodie fell silent again.

It was oddly funny—they hadn’t even added each other’s contacts since she’d deleted him. She knew Jarrod wasn’t serious; bringing it up now felt equal parts bittersweet and ironic.

She walked further into the apartment, meaning to sit down, but as she glanced to the opposite wall, she froze. There, on a cabinet exactly like hers, sat a collection of framed photos.

One of them was of her and Jarrod, sitting side by side with composed expressions—neither of them looking especially happy. She’d always thought Jarrod hadn’t smiled at all that day, that he must have been miserable.

But now, looking at it again, she noticed something she’d missed before—a faint, almost imperceptible trace of a smile in Jarrod’s eyes.

Who else would frame a photo from their city hall wedding and put it on display?

As for the other photos… Elodie recognized one from last year, when her grandmother had insisted they take a few family pictures to send to her great-aunt. Jarrod had tried to send her one afterward, but by then she’d already deleted him. He’d been interrupted by a call from Sylvie and never tried again, so he hadn’t realized she’d taken him off her contacts.

At the time, she’d assumed Jarrod hadn’t wanted to be in the pictures. After all, they’d barely taken any photos together.

But now, looking at the images, she could see it: when Jarrod stood beside her for the camera, his body and head leaned ever so slightly in her direction. It was a subtle but unmistakable sign.