When fate plays its hand

When Paul gave Miranda water, he was extra careful about the angle of the glass and worried that the wrong tilt might make her choke.

While looking at his serious and focused expression, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was taking something so simple and turning it into a major project.

After she finished drinking, Paul took the glass and turned away–only to catch her smiling at him out of the corner of his eye. That smile held a playful glint, like two tiny hooks that effortlessly snagged his heart. It made his heart race and left him breathless.

“Dr. Jefferson? What are you thinking about?” Miranda asked.

Paul snapped out of his daze and said, “Nothing.” He quickly left the kitchen to put the glass away.

When he returned, his sleeves were already rolled up. Walking casually to her side, he said, Let me help.”

She didn’t object. “Start by slicing the potatoes.”

“Okay.”

After working together so often, they had fallen into a rhythm.

“1

Paul’s cooking might not taste as good as Miranda’s, but he excelled at prep work–washing vegetables, chopping ingredients, and scrubbing dishes without missing a beat.

Soon, four dishes were ready–beef and tomato stew, barbecue pork ribs, potato hash with bell peppers, and a creamy seafood chowder.

Paul set the table while Miranda quickly finished cleaning up in the kitchen. She removed her apron, walked out, and they exchanged smiles.

He served her a plate before helping himself.

She paused momentarily before asking, “Want some wine?”

As expected, Paul shook his head. “No, it’s bad for your health.” After a brief pause, he added, “And you shouldn’t drink either.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow. “What if I really want to?”

He hesitated for a second as if actually considering her question. “If you really want to… then you can, but in moderation.”

That was Paul in a nutshell. Even if he didn’t agree or approve, he would still respect her choices.

Miranda secretly sighed and smiled. “I’m just messing with you. I won’t drink.”

He chuckled.

Suddenly, something came to her mind. “Speaking of drinking, there’s something I’ve been curious about for a while. Maybe you can clear it up for me?”

“What is it?” he asked, handing her a fork.

Miranda took it, and before serving himself, Paul carefully placed one of her favorite ribs on her plate.

“Do you remember the last time we ate here? It was the only time you ever wanted to drink. Why was that?” she asked.

That day, he had seemed completely off. When he asked if she had any alcohol, he looked like a trapped beast–restrained, angry, and struggling, yet too exhausted to fight back.

She continued, “After you drank, you seemed to snap back to normal–or almost normal. Your mood changed so fast that if I hadn’t been the one to pour the drink, I’d have thought it was spiked.” noveldrama

He had even asked her to go for a run in the middle of the night.

“So, what happened that day?” Miranda asked curiously.

Paul took a sip of soup and tried to hide his discomfort. He wondered if he had really acted that strange back then. His inner voice responded, “What do you think?”

After a moment of hesitation, he said, “Can we not talk about it?”

“Can I not talk about it?” Miranda echoed innocently, and she passed the question back to him. Paul looked helpless. “Actually, it’s nothing…it’s just…”

“Hm?”

He finally confessed, “At the time, I kept seeing you with Sam. You two seemed really… close.” Miranda nearly laughed out loud. “So, after drinking, you cheered up because…”

“You told me you were cousins,” he said quietly.

She had guessed as much. “So…” She stared at him and emphasized each word. “Were you jealous at that time?”

Paul’s face flushed red, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he nodded seriously. “Yes. I was. Really, really jealous ”

Especially since Sam’s words liad seemed deliberately laced with intentional ambiguity that hinted at a close relationship between him and Miranda.