How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 839

“No, she’s just been in her room, calling friends and relatives, bragging about how beautiful her great-granddaughter is and inviting them over to visit.”

Jarrod strode over and stood behind Elodie, gently unwrapping the towel from her hair. He began to pat her hair dry, careful and methodical.

Elodie adored her hair. She pampered it obsessively, refusing to use a hairdryer because she believed it damaged the strands. Instead, she always took the time to carefully towel it off and let it air-dry, no matter how troublesome.

The memory of the old lady’s gleeful face made Elodie smile to herself.

By now, she was used to Jarrod helping her dry her hair. Back when they’d first gotten married, he’d done it often—she hardly had to lift a finger.

So she let him continue, turning her attention to the assortment of creams and serums she was applying to her face.

“My vacation’s only a few days,” Jarrod said, voice gentle but steady. “The board’s assigned me a project and I have to see it through, so in a few days I’ll need to fly out again, tie up the loose ends. But this time, it’ll be less than a month before I’m home.”

That was what he said.

Still, Elodie glanced at the sleeping Nadia, her heart aching.

She hated the thought of leaving Nadia behind. But her work was her duty—and more than that, it mattered. She was building a vital bridge between two countries; she had to hold it steady.

Home would have to wait.

Jarrod understood the heavy weight of her responsibility.

He admired her passion for her career, and of course he supported her.

Once her hair was mostly dry, he tossed the towel aside. The chair she was sitting in could spin, so he turned her to face him. Leaning down, hands braced on the armrests, he studied her up close. “You’ll miss Nadia, won’t you?”

He was so close that Elodie had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. She sighed, uncomfortable. “Of course I’ll miss her. But I can’t let personal feelings get in the way of what’s important.”

He tapped his fingers on the armrest, thinking. “And what about me?”

“What?”

“Will you miss me?”

He watched her, eyes steady, expression dignified yet with a hint of mischief.

Trying to stay serious.

Elodie reached up and stroked his chin. “You’ll survive. I doubt it’ll affect you much.”

Jarrod gave her a look of exaggerated wounded pride.

Elodie blinked innocently at him. “What? We’re an old married couple, Jarrod. It’s not like we’re newlyweds anymore.”

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