Jarrod found himself genuinely surprised.

He’d promised to send Elodie a few photos of that painting, and with some free time today, he finally sent them over.

He hadn’t expected to be greeted by a glaring red exclamation mark.

He didn’t even know when Elodie had blocked him.

Was it during the art exhibit? Or sometime after?

Either way, he didn’t dwell on it. Given everything that had happened lately, Elodie’s silence was almost stranger-blocking him made more sense. Maybe she was just expressing her displeasure.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

He remembered the last time: Elodie had blocked him for about a week, then quietly added him back, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

But this time…

It felt like more of a shame than anything else.

Only now did he realize just how much effort she’d put in.

Elodie, on her end, was suddenly reminded-she’d blocked Jarrod ages ago. Not just his personal number, but his work one too-both tucked away on her blocked list.

That it had taken Jarrod this long to notice didn’t surprise her.

Before she’d blocked him, Jarrod rarely reached out anyway. It was always her, checking in, sending message after message, and he’d only bother to reply when he felt like it.

If he thought something wasn’t important, chances were he just wouldn’t respond. Most of the time, she was just talking to herself.

Looking back at their chats, there’d be her long, thoughtful messages, punctuated only by the occasional, terse “Yeah,” “Okay,” or “Got it” from him.

She figured, now that she’d stopped reaching out, Jarrod was probably enjoying the quiet.

“Did you need something?” Elodie didn’t answer his call directly, just asked in a calm, almost distant tone.

Jarrod was silent for a moment, his voice even and unreadable when he finally spoke. “Didn’t you want photos of that painting? I couldn’t send them through Messenger, so I had to call and check.”

Elodie traced her finger around the rim of her mug, picking up on a hint of ambiguity in his words.

Was he implying she’d blocked him just to get his attention, so he’d have to call her in person and ask what was going on?

But they were getting divorced. There was no reason for Jarrod to read so much into her actions anymore.

Whatever he was thinking, she didn’t care enough to wonder. She kept her tone level. “Thanks. Just email them to me.”

It was more of a hassle than sending them by text, but she had no intention of adding him back.

A few seconds of quiet passed.

She thought she heard the faintest, almost mocking laugh from Jarrod a hollow sound from deep in his chest.

It was impossible to tell what he was really feeling.

“Sure, whatever you want.” His voice was as cold as ever, tinged with a subtle, familiar irony. He didn’t ask her to unblock him.

There was a pause.

He added, “About the painting your mother liked-I’ll help you look for it. I’ll let you know when there’s news.”

That genuinely caught Elodie off guard.

She hadn’t expected Jarrod to remember. She’d only mentioned it offhand at the gallery, and yet he’d actually made a note of it?

Before she could thank him, Jarrod hung up first.

Decisive. Distant.

As if that brief moment of concern had been nothing but an illusion.

Elodie stared blankly at her phone for a second, then shook herself free of the feeling.

Back when they were still married, her needs had never really mattered. Now, even if he remembered them, she felt nothing.

She got up, took a shower, and stood in front of the mirror. Running her hand from her ribs down to her waist, she realized how much weight she’d lost. No wonder Jarrod had actually shown a flicker of concern back at the gallery-it was impossible not to notice.

Since her diagnosis, her mood had sunk lower and lower. The medication she’d started had wrecked her appetite, leaving her even more gaunt.

She couldn’t even bring herself to imagine how much worse she’d look if she had to start chemotherapy.