How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie hadn't slept a wink last night, and the storm of emotions had left her utterly drained. Her body felt leaden, every muscle aching with exhaustion.

She sipped a glass of water to soothe her parched throat, then shuffled back to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. It surprised her how much energy it took just to be angry, to shout and argue. She was realizing, with a kind of helpless resignation, that she no longer had the strength for these endless battles.

Sleep didn't come easily. She drifted in and out, her mind restless and unsettled.

Late in the morning, the doorbell rang.

Elodie forced herself up, weary limbs protesting. She peered through the peephole and saw a courier waiting on the porch.

She wracked her brain, trying to remember if she'd ordered anything, but nothing came to mind.

"Ms. Thorne, I have a package for you. Could you please sign here?"

She glanced at the label-the box was definitely addressed to her, name and phone number printed in neat block letters.

"Thank you. Have a good day," she managed, accepting the parcel and closing the door behind her.

The box wasn't heavy. She weighed it in her hands, then checked the shipping label. It had been sent from a small, remote town, somewhere she'd never even heard of. The shipment date was a week ago.

She opened the box and found, right on top, a large envelope containing a certificate.

Curious, Elodie pulled it out and unfolded it. For a moment, she simply stared, uncomprehending.

It was a donation certificate, complete with receipts for various contributions. But these weren't money transfers-these were records of something far bigger.

Ten schools had been built, bearing her name and Jarrod's. Ten schools scattered across different counties and small towns, some so distant she had to double- check the locations. The farthest was in the mountains, practically at the edge of the map.

The package had come from one of those far-off schools.

Aside from the certificate and

receipts, the box was filled with local specialties foods and crafts she'd

In

never seen, each one carefully wrapped. There were photos, too,

showing children from all over, their eyes bright but their faces thin, hollowed by years of hardship.

Some kids were tall, some small. Most looked shy in the pictures, but there was a glimmer of curiosity in their gazes, a flicker of hope.

There were letters-thank you notes from teachers and parents, all sharing their gratitude.

At the very bottom was a

handwritten letter from the school

principal. The words were e

overflowing with thanks. The principal wrote about the

months-long construction, how the school had finally opened just a few weeks ago. He mentioned Elodie and Jarrod by name, saying they'd brought hope to children who'd had so little, that they'd changed the lives of an entire community.

Elodie reread the letter, the steady flow of gratitude washing over her. She'd never actually been involved in any of this, yet somehow, she'd become a savior in

these children's stories.

Suddenly, the memory

surfaced-there had been a charity gala. Jarrod had gone with Sylvie, and the evening had ended in a

bitter @rgument between the net

She

distinctly remembered the organizers announcing that Jarrod and Sylvie would be making the donation, that the schools would be built in their names.

So how had the credit ended up with her?

Elodie stared at the principal's letter, her thoughts whirling. She held the paper in

her hands for a long time, unable to process the string of events, feeling a strange mix of confusion and bitter amusement.

Life's twists and turns left her breathless.noveldrama

Knock, knock, knock-

Someone rapped on the door.

Elodie snapped out of her daze and went to check. It was Jarrod, still in his loungewear-clearly, he hadn't gone to the office today.

They needed to talk after everything that had happened yesterday. With a sigh, Elodie let him in.

He was carrying an elegant lunchbox, and if he noticed the coolness in her expression, he didn't show it. He placed the lunchbox on the dining table, his eyes drifting to the open package.

He recognized it—he'd arranged for that box to be sent just a few days ago. But seeing it here, now, in this moment... the timing couldn't have been worse.