Chapter 87

Paul waved his hand. "I'm not in a rush to get it back," he said. It was just a jacket; he had plenty more in his closet. "I just came back to grab a few changes of clothes. I'm heading back to the lab right after," he said nasally, his voice muffled by a mask. Miranda could tell he had a nasty cold.

"Wait," Miranda said, turning and heading back inside. Returning with a thermos, she said, "I made this cauliflower soup last night. Remember to drink it while it's hot."

Paul frowned imperceptibly at the mention of "cauliflower." Miranda, oblivious, continued, "There's also some over-the-counter cold medicine in the bag. The dosage is written on the box."

Paul, typically healthy, rarely got sick. His hand paused. For the first time, he felt the urge to return the thermos.

However, Miranda added, "After all, you only got sick yesterday because of me."

He retracted his hand. Glancing at his watch, he realized he was running late. "Thanks for the cauliflower soup and the medicine. I'll have them."

After Paul left, Miranda closed the door and returned inside. She had amendments to make to her thesis and had been researching extensively online. Furthermore, the books and essays Christine had given her were in Aurenese, a language she only spoke conversationally, requiring frequent dictionary use.

Lost in her academic pursuits, Miranda worked furiously, taking notes constantly. Her phone rang. Slightly irritated by the interruption, she answered.

"Hello, Miranda. I really want to apologize for yesterday. Still, there are some things I'd like to say in person."

It was Sam.

Miranda was silent for a few seconds. Coincidentally, she also wanted to talk. After agreeing on a time and place, she ended the call.

Hansel's furious expression briefly flashed in her mind, but she dismissed the thought and returned to her thesis.

Miranda and Sam had agreed to meet at their usual café, near Bedford College. Pushing open the door, she found Sam at their usual table.

His back was to the door, but he turned as the bell above the door rang, as if sensing her arrival. His coat lay beside him; he was dressed in a Gucci shirt, the collar slightly open, revealing his Adam's apple and collarbones. Young women at a nearby table occasionally glanced at him.

Ignoring them, Miranda sat across from him. He asked what she would like to drink.

She wasn't in the mood for coffee and went straight to the point. "I came to finish our conversation from the other day."

Sam, seemingly unaffected, smiled. "I also want to tell you I meant everything I said."

Miranda frowned. "Then you should know I don't like you, and nothing will ever happen between us."

Sam shrugged. "I know that in this world, no one is infallible, and nothing is smooth-sailing. However, as long as it ends well, isn't that good enough?"

He was persistent; once he set a goal, he wouldn't stop until he achieved it. He was also patient, willing to wait for Miranda to soften. Hansel, with his persistence and stubbornness, had eventually won her over. If Hansel could do it, why couldn't Sam?