“What you said before that.”

“Since Mr. Zach requested it.”

“The one before that.”

The manager replied, “Room 1901 checked out?”

Zach’s eyes widened. “She checked out?”

“Y–Yes, about ten minutes ago.”

“Shit–”

The manager was puzzled. “Sir?”

“Get those women out of my sight! I can’t stand looking at them anymore!” Zach snapped.

The manager was speechless. He thought, “But that’s not what you said over the phone earlier…”

Meanwhile, over at Miranda’s place, everything continued in its usual orderly way.

She woke up naturally at 7:00 am. She prepared breakfast and went out to buy groceries.

At 9:00 am, she returned from the market. As soon as she stepped inside, she heard Lionel exclaiming.

“I never thought you’d be not only good at research but also so talented at gardening!”

She paused while changing her shoes. After a couple of seconds, a familiar voice drifted from the balcony, “You’re flattering me, Mr. Sutton.”

Paul Jefferson.

Miranda carried the groceries into the kitchen, then served two plates of freshly baked pear cobbler and made her way to the balcony.

Lionel and Paul sat side by side on small stools, backs turned toward the balcony door. Before them lay seven or eight flowerpots, with soil and plants dug out and piled beside them.

“Dad, Dr. Jefferson, have some pear cobbler,” Miranda said.

“Mimi, you’re back! Since I’m free today, I thought I’d help repot all your plants. A few of them had roots that were starting to rot,” Lionel explained while reaching for the plate.

He noticed his muddy hands and added, “Wait a moment, let me wash up first.”

“Sure,” she replied.

Paul, however, had been smarter—he’d put on disposable gloves. He peeled them off and took the plate from her. “Thank you.”

“When did you arrive, Dr. Jefferson?” Miranda asked.

“About half an hour ago.”

“Don’t you have to go to the lab today?”

“I’ll be heading there this afternoon.”

“Then why did you…” Miranda wanted to ask how he ended up at her place.

But Paul smiled knowingly before she could finish. “I was jogging home and bumped into your dad taking out the trash.”

Lionel couldn’t sit still after that. Learning that Paul was free in the morning, he had invited him over. Paul went back, showered quickly, changed, and came away.

“About last time…” Miranda hesitated, biting her lip in embarrassment. “I lost my composure. I’m sorry.”

“What happened last time?” Paul arched an eyebrow.

Miranda looked at him, unsure whether he genuinely forgot or was teasing her. “You know, the last time you came over for dinner. I had a bit too much to drink, and then…”

Paul’s lips curled into a smile. “And then what?”

“I think I might’ve been drunk,” she confessed. “I don’t remember everything clearly…”

Paul took pity on her and said, “It wasn’t that bad.” After a pause, he added, “Not a big deal. Apart from the fact that she tried jumping to tap his head, wrinkled his shirt, and messed up his hair, there hadn’t been much else.”

Hearing this, Miranda exhaled in relief.

“But next time,” Paul continued, “Don’t grab a man’s collar and ask if he’s up for it.”

Miranda froze. “What!”

As soon as he said it, memories came flooding back.

“Just let me tap your head once! You did it to me, so why can’t I do it to you?” She had insisted.

Paul had tried dodging, but she’d caught him by the collar, yanking hard enough that their faces almost touched. His breath hitched, but all Miranda had cared about was getting her payback.

“Just one tap, come on… Can’t I do it? Tell me, are you up for it or not?”