Chapter 5

"What's the matter with Hans?" Calvin asked, scooting closer to Zach after glancing at Hansel, who sat drinking solemnly by himself. Hansel had worn a dark expression since entering the room, chilling even the lively atmosphere.

"Probably because he got blocked by a certain someone," Zach said, fueling the drama despite knowing the truth.

Hansel's face darkened at Zach's words. He slammed his beer mug on the glass table, rolled up his sleeves, and glared. "I told you not to mention her! Don't you understand?"

Zach shrugged, remaining silent. The mood shifted instantly; everyone fell silent, even the karaoke singers. Calvin nearly choked on his wine. Was Miranda serious about leaving this time?

Sam, slightly lightheaded from drinking, snapped out of his daze and softly asked Calvin, "Has Miranda gone back to him?"

Calvin shook his head, unable to say more. Sam understood: Miranda hadn't returned.

Just then, servers arrived with more beer. Someone shouted, "Let's play truth or dare!" The VIP room's occupants—mostly men showing off their latest conquests—exchanged glances and agreed, hoping to ease the tension.

+15 BONUS

"Alright, let's play. I love this game."

A woman entered. "Queenie! Over here. Hans is the only one without a partner…"

Queenie was promptly seated beside Hansel. A popular hostess, this wasn't their first encounter.

"Mr. Johnson…"

Hansel stood abruptly. "You guys go ahead. I'm leaving." He departed, leaving everyone shocked and Queenie upset about a lost tip.

Once in his car, Dan asked Hansel their destination. Two brandy shots later, Hansel felt dizzy. Thinking of his empty mansion, he replied, "Take me to the company."

At 10:00 p.m., Hansel's assistant, Zoe Levine, was packing up when she saw him exiting the elevator. Her surprised expression agitated him. Usually, Miranda would urge him home, and if he refused, she'd cling to him and nag. Though he complained, he'd always relent.

"Are you leaving?" Zoe asked. "Is there anything else?"

Hansel wanted to dismiss her, but hunger and the brandy ached in his stomach. His face was pale. "Get me some soup," he said. "From the best restaurant."

Zoe was efficient. Twenty minutes later, she returned with elegantly packaged takeout. Hansel frowned upon opening it. "Lobster bisque? Why?"

Zoe was confused. "Blossom Bistro's famous for it, Mr. Johnson. You—"

"Never mind. You may leave."

The bisque smelled and tasted divine, but Hansel ate little, his appetite gone. He couldn't stop thinking about Miranda's soup.

"Fuck!" he muttered. Why was he so obsessed?

Meanwhile, Miranda arrived at Winter's condo after visiting the hospital. She flipped on the light switch to soft moans. Winter, in a revealing nightdress, was passionately kissing a young man on the couch. His abs were visible as her hand roamed beneath his clothes. He returned her kisses enthusiastically, leaving hickeys on her neck.

The sudden light startled Winter. Confused, she tried to stop him. "Oh, it's you, Mimi. You're back."

Miranda, trying to remain composed, coughed. "Uh, it's fine. You can put some clothes on." She turned away, giving them privacy. She sighed, realizing she couldn't stay long-term; even as best friends, Winter deserved privacy.

Winter, unfazed, adjusted her nightdress, covered herself, and tossed the man his jacket. Lipstick smudged his face, his eyes red as he stared at her.

Winter tapped his cheek. "Be a good boy and wait for me in the bedroom."

He covered his hickey-covered shoulders with the jacket, smiled at Miranda, and greeted, "Hi. Pleasant evening, isn't it?"

Miranda instinctively replied, "Oh, hi, Kevin." He smiled and disappeared into the bedroom.

Winter poured herself wine. It was sweet with a bitter aftertaste. Sighing contentedly, she corrected Miranda, "His name is Steven. Kevin was from before."

Miranda was speechless.

"Where were you? You're late," Winter noticed Miranda's red-rimmed eyes. "Have you been crying?"

Miranda poured water. "I visited Dr. Young at the hospital today."

Winter vaguely knew about Christine's hospitalization through their alumni group chat. She peered at Miranda. "You…" She hesitated.

Miranda had been Christine's favorite student, showing the most potential. Winter, as her best friend, knew Christine had personally tutored and aided Miranda's thesis, even though she wasn't her supervisor. Miranda could have been the country's youngest biological sciences PhD holder.

Winter still didn't understand why Miranda abandoned her studies. She sighed, remembering Christine's favoritism. Maybe Miranda didn't cherish things that came easily. After all, geniuses could do as they pleased.

"I heard Dr. Young was seriously ill. How's she recovering?" Winter asked.

Miranda shook her head. Winter was speechless. "Did you even visit her? How could you not know?"

"I didn't dare go in."

"Cold feet?" Winter exclaimed, "Serves you right!"

Miranda's eyelashes quivered. Seeing her distress, Winter realized the morning's food must have been for Christine.

"Are you planning to be like this forever?" Miranda, usually assertive, was now timid.

"I have to see Dr. Young someday. Some things can't be solved by running away," Miranda replied. Then, looking up, she asked, "Winter, will you accompany me?"

"What are you planning to do?"