When fate plays its hand

Before takeoff, Sawyer offered to use his frequent flyer miles to upgrade Miranda’s seat, but she declined. He looked a bit disappointed but could only leave it at that.

“I switched seats with the person next to you,” he said.

After all, most people would take the chance to move from economy to business class.

“Mr. Jensen, you don’t need to do this,” Miranda said seriously. It was the first time she had set a clear boundary.

She was not inexperienced with relationships. It was apparent Sawyer had feelings for her, and his affection was hard to miss.

Miranda hadn’t addressed it before because he hadn’t crossed any lines. He had been helpful to her in many ways, like arranging this trip to Zettenburg. His connections had made it possible for her to inspect the new materials in person.

Sawyer hadn’t confessed or acted inappropriately, so rejecting him outright felt unwarranted. Besides, she had been single then, and she figured some people just needed a little encouragement to speak up. Otherwise, he might never have made a move.

But now, with her commitment to Paul and Sawyer’s advances becoming more obvious, it was time to draw a line. If she didn’t, the misunderstandings would only deepen.

Sawyer seemed caught off guard but managed a chuckle. “It’s fine. I’m okay sitting in the economy seat with you.”

Miranda said nothing.

He had booked a business–class seat. If he wanted to give it up, that was his choice. As long as both parties agreed, it wasn’t her problem.

For the rest of the flight, she remained focused on her work. Sawyer alternated between scrolling through his phone and stealing glances at her.

At one point, he flagged down a flight attendant. ‘Excuse me, can you help me with something?”

“Of course, sir. What do you

need?”

“Can you help me connect to the Wi–Fi? It seems to have disconnected,” he said.

“I’m sorry, but the in–flight Wi–Fi is only available to first- and business–class passengers. You…”

“Oh. Never mind,” Sawyer muttered.

Without the internet and nothing else to occupy him, boredom quickly set in. He couldn’t help but glance at Miranda occasionally, though he tried to be subtle about it.

Eventually, the monotony of watching gave way to drowsiness, and before he knew it, he had dozed off.

When he woke, Miranda was still working diligently. His neck and shoulders ached from the awkward position, and he winced as he stretched.

She noticed that and said, “Mr. Jensen, you should switch back. There’s still an hour before we land.” novelbin

He pursed his lips. “No.” His tone was petulant, like a sulking child.

Miranda just responded casually, “Suit yourself.”

His heart sank as if plunged into icy water. It was unbearably cold.

Meanwhile, Paul woke up and immediately knocked on the door across the hall. “Mimi? Are you there?” For some reason, the first person he thought of when he opened his eyes was

Miranda.

He knocked a few more times but got no response. He remembered her plan with Sawyer from yesterday.

They had talked things through, but she had declined his help. That meant her trip to Zettenburg was still on, and she must have left early with Sawyer.

Paul’s expression fell, and his lips tightened. If Miranda were there, she might have said he looked like a downcast golden retriever.

The “big dog” turned around and trudged back toward his apartment, his head hanging low. But just as he reached his door, something caught his eye–a brown paper bag hanging from the doorknob.

He opened it to find a glass jar of milk, a sandwich, and a note. “I left early, so I didn’t wake you. I made a quick breakfast–heat it up before eating. Wait for me to come back.”

At the bottom, she had drawn a small Heart–shaped graph.

The once–droopy golden retriever suddenly perked up like an overexcited puppy. If he had a tail, it would be wagging furiously. 1