How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 782

Back then, he was already in enough pain.

He’d been misunderstood in so many ways, by so many people—but when it came to that child, he simply couldn’t let go.

That’s why, after everything happened, he kept flying out to New York.

Only by checking in every month, seeing for himself how things were, could he find any peace.

It had become his anchor.

He’d always been a man who kept his emotions tightly leashed, but with Elodie and the baby, he held nothing back.

Elodie stared at Jarrod for a long moment, unable to stop herself from laughing through her tears.

“Jarrod, it feels like you’ve saved my life again.”

Just barely.

She’d come so close to being trapped by regret for the rest of her life.

But fate, it seemed, had given her Jarrod.

He always saw the bigger picture, always managed to plan ten steps ahead.

He’d given her a lifeline—a chance big enough to rewrite the rest of her days.

She couldn’t deny it.

If Jarrod hadn’t already decided that, no matter what, he’d raise the child himself, she honestly didn’t think she could have gotten through it.

No wonder.

No wonder the nursery was filled with little girl’s clothes and a pink theme.

It all made sense now.

“Are you happy now?” he asked, gently wiping away her tears once more, patient as ever. “Do you think maybe I’m not so bad after all? Maybe I actually did something that made you truly happy?”

Elodie couldn’t even put her feelings into words.

She was bursting at the seams—overwhelmed by the sudden rush of hope after months of despair, almost unable to contain it.

“Well—well, you just focus on recovering, okay? Try to get better soon, so you can go see the baby.” She was desperate, and it showed, but seeing him still so weak, she forced herself to hold back.

Everything felt different now.

It was as if, suddenly, there was something to look forward to.

She was speechless.

But she couldn’t argue—he was the one who’d made it sound suggestive, only to turn it around on her.

Still, she didn’t hold it against him. After all these years of marriage, there wasn’t much Jarrod hadn’t said in the bedroom.

Today, though, she was still reeling from the good news, her head spinning with joy.

She wanted to ask more—were there photos, any videos?

But when they reached the master bedroom, she saw Jarrod already lying back, a furrow of pain creasing his brow.

He must have overexerted himself again.

Her excitement ebbed, replaced by concern.

She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him, her gaze lingering on the tension in his face.

After a moment, she reached out and gently smoothed the frown from his brow, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you. And… you’ve done so much.”