How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 800

“How come you’re here?” Fleming Mercer set his bag down and turned to face her.

Esmeralda Mercer felt a strange, indescribable awkwardness, mixed with emotions she didn’t dare examine too closely.

“I just brought you a jacket.” She held up the coat in her hands, as if she needed to prove she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

Adrian rubbed the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling more out of place than ever—even though, technically, he was just an outsider.

He barely knew Fleming’s fiancée; after all, Fleming never mentioned her. But for her to overhear that conversation just now… It didn’t seem right.

“Alright then, why don’t I give you two some time alone?” Adrian flashed Esmeralda a friendly smile, doing his best to seem welcoming before stepping out. He even closed the door gently behind him.

Esmeralda hesitated, remembering that Adrian was closer to Lucy. He’d probably take Lucy’s side, if it ever came to that.

“Okay,” she murmured, nodding.

Finally, she walked farther into the room and handed the jacket to Fleming. “Have you settled in here yet?”

She couldn’t help hoping Fleming would offer some explanation for what she’d heard. Something like, “It was just a joke,” or “Don’t take it to heart,” or even, “You’re the one I’m engaged to.” Anything, really.

The truth was, she was embarrassingly easy to appease.

Fleming took the jacket from her and walked toward the bathroom, tossing it into the washing machine. “Almost done,” he replied.

He was always quiet and reserved, rarely wasting words. Explanations, especially, seemed beyond him.

Esmeralda felt a pang of disappointment.

She watched him put her worn clothes into the machine, wondering—Did he find her dirty somehow? Was he grossed out by her?

Trying not to dwell on it, she mustered up her courage and asked, “Were you talking to Lucy just now?”

He was, in effect, asking her to leave.

She wasn’t stupid—she could tell how important that little jade pendant was to him. He’d practically panicked when she touched it.

Her mind drifted to the simple good-luck charm she’d once hung in his car. He’d discarded it somewhere, she didn’t even know where it was now. Compared to the pendant he guarded so closely, hers clearly meant nothing to him.

Esmeralda’s throat felt tight.

She stared at him, her voice stiff. “…Alright. That’s fine.”

Fleming noticed her mood shift. He even guessed what she meant by the question about Lucy. But honestly, he didn’t think it was worth discussing. Why waste time explaining something so insignificant?

Esmeralda lowered her head and turned to leave. Distracted and hollow, she didn’t notice the sharp edge of the cheap table until her arm bumped into it.

A sudden sting shot up her arm. She looked down to see a thin, fresh cut.