How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Jarrod glanced sideways at her. "Are you planning to suffocate yourself? Relax a little."

Elodie swallowed hard. "Who does your daughter take after? She's probably past the awkward phase now, right? I never learned how to hold a baby, Jarrod, my heart is about to jump out of my chest."

She started rambling, as she always did when nervous.

Jarrod watched her, then turned his head and covered his mouth, trying to hide a laugh.

"So if she isn't cute, you'll just send her back?"

Elodie shot him a glare. "What, you think this is like returning groceries at the supermarket?"

He just grinned, taking his time. "You must be out of your mind. With genes like ours—especially mine-how could my daughter not be adorable?"

She wanted to snap back, but words failed her.

He wasn't exactly wrong.

And so they bantered, back and forth, the whole way there.

Half an hour later, Elodie found herself in a secluded neighborhood of upscale villas. The area was deserted, and the roads were tricky to navigate.

Her lips were pressed tight, and she wasn't sure if it was the cold or her nerves, but her whole body trembled uncontrollably.

Jarrod glanced back, then wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close as they stepped inside.

The moment they entered, Elodie felt like she'd stepped into another world-a place straight out of a science fiction movie, gleaming with high-tech equipment and bustling people. She couldn't even begin to guess how much it cost to keep a place like this running.

A group of men in sterile white coats approached them-likely the team in charge here. One of them looked from her to Jarrod. "Mr. Silverstein, please come this way."

Jarrod took Elodie's hand as they rode the elevator upstairs.

And then-

They were led into a vast, spotless room. At the far end, inside a special incubator, Elodie caught sight of a tiny figure.

All her imaginings over the months crystallized into reality in that instant.

A living, breathing child-right before her eyes.

For a moment, her mind went completely blank. She barely registered Jarrod letting go of her as she drifted forward, step by step, toward the incubator.

Inside, a tiny girl lay sleeping

peacefully. Her skin was pale, her eyelashes long and delicate. Even as an infant, her nose was perfectly shaped, her features striking and beautiful.

She was tiny-barely the length of Elodie's forearm-but clearly healthy, her breathing soft and steady.

Elodie's hand moved on its own, pressing gently against the glass, as if she could reach through and touch her daughter.

And in that single, overwhelming moment, tears broke free, streaming down her cheeks.

That profound sense of connection-a bond deeper than words-rooted itself inside her, filling her with an uncontrollable urge to love this child with everything she had.

Tears kept falling, unstoppable.

The little girl she cared about so much, loved so fiercely, was safe and sound, cared for and growing strong.

Jarrod came to stand beside her, bending down so his eyes met hers. "Well? With

a dad like me, did you really think she'd have bad genes?"

Elodie knew perfectly well he was just trying to lighten the mood.

She nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "You're right. She really does look like you-her nose, her mouth, it's all you."

People always said daughters took after their fathers. Turns out, it was true.

Jarrod let out a soft, teasing sound, then gently wiped away the tears gathering at her chin. "You're crying so much, what am I supposed to do except feel sorry for you?"

He grinned again. "Actually, our little girl's been ready to leave the incubator for a while now. I just wanted to be extra careful and kept

her in a bit longer. Want to hold her in a little while?" noveldrama

Elodie's eyes lit up. "Can I really hold her?"

"Of course," he said. "She's your daughter, Elodie."