Miranda was slightly taken aback. “You’re giving me your jacket, but what about you?”
“I’m not cold,” Paul responded calmly.
“Thank you.”
As they reached the corner of the street, Paul asked her to wait a moment. He stepped into a nearby convenience store and returned in less than a minute, holding two cups.
“Here,” he said, handing one to her.
Miranda curiously sniffed the cup. “What is this?”
“Earl Grey tea.”
Her eyebrows raised. “This convenience store sells hot Earl Grey tea?” She couldn’t remember seeing it before.
Paul smiled. “Seasonal specialty. It just came out recently.”
“And what’s in your cup?”
“Mine’s black tea.”
Holding the warm cup, with his jacket still draped over her shoulders, Miranda felt her whole body warm up. A rosy glow appeared on her cheeks.
Once they reached her apartment, she handed the jacket back to him. “Thank you, Dr. Jefferson. Goodnight.”
Paul’s lips curved slightly, and he replied, “Goodnight.”
They both then went to their respective apartments.
After showering, Miranda settled down to read through some papers. She put on a knitted cardigan, feeling warm and cozy.
Her phone rang—it was her father, Lionel.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Mimi, are you still awake?”
“Yeah, I’m reviewing some papers.”
“The weather’s getting colder. Don’t stay up too late, and make sure to wear something warm.”
“I know, Dad. It’s not that cold inside; we have heating here. How’s Mom?”
Lionel replied, “She’s working on her drafts. Oh, by the way, we sent you some braised beef, about ten pounds or so. It should arrive tomorrow.”
“That much? How am I supposed to finish it all?”
“It’s not just for you. Share half with Paul. You two live right across from each other. It’ll be easy to pass it over.”
Meanwhile, after Paul returned home, he hung his jacket on the coat rack as usual but suddenly paused. He took it down again.
The jacket still carried the faint scent of Miranda’s perfume. Instinctively, he brought it closer to his nose and inhaled.
Realizing what he was doing, a flash of embarrassment crossed his face. He quickly tossed the jacket onto the couch as if it had burned him and headed straight to the bathroom.
Soon, the sound of water running filled the space—but there was no trace of steam.
The next morning, Miranda received the package her father had sent. She walked over to Paul’s apartment and knocked on the door.
“Dr. Jefferson? Are you in?”
The door opened shortly after, revealing Paul in his sleepwear, his hair slightly tousled.
Miranda blinked. “Did I wake you?”
It didn’t seem right. By this time, Paul was usually awake, even if he wasn’t at the lab. His self-discipline was almost legendary—he wouldn’t be one to sleep in, even on a day off. So why was he…
“Dr. Jefferson, are you okay?” Miranda couldn’t help but notice his pale complexion and asked with concern.
“I’m fine…” He coughed. “Really.”
It was clear he wasn’t.
Miranda raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if to say, “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
Paul sighed.
“Are you sick?” she asked, her voice softening.
“Just a mild cold.”
She glanced down. “You did lend me your jacket last night…”
“It’s not because of that!” he quickly defended himself. “I’d been coughing a little before that. I probably caught a chill working late in the lab, with the sudden drop in temperature and all.”
“Have you taken any medicine?” she asked.
Paul nodded. “Yes, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
Miranda finally relaxed. “By the way, my dad sent some braised beef, and he specifically said to give you half.”
“Really? That’s very kind of Mr. Sutton.”
Miranda suddenly chuckled.
Paul raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
“Do you really want to know?” she teased.
“Now that you’ve laughed that much, of course, I want to know. Don’t leave me hanging!”
Miranda pulled three vacuum-sealed bags of braised beef from the box and handed them to him. “You refer to my dad in such a formal way. But when he called me, he kept saying, ‘Don’t hold back—make sure to share plenty with your Uncle Paul. Think of it as honoring the elders.’”
Paul was at a loss for words.