The entire night was filled with surreal and fragmented dreams—none of them forming a coherent story. In one of the dreams, Miranda cradled a chubby, smiling baby in her arms. Behind her stood a tall, gentle man, softly encircling her waist, quietly reminding her to watch her step. But when she turned to look at him, he vanished. All that remained was an endless field of wild grass, stretching as far as her eyes could see. No trace of the man, no one to turn to. The baby in her arms disappeared too. Her once-full embrace was now empty, and she found herself running across the desolate field, desperately calling out—though she didn’t know what name to shout. Her child hadn’t been born yet, and she hadn’t even had the chance to name him. When she awoke, the light outside was still dim. A glance at her phone showed it was already 7:30 PM Rome time. She had slept through the entire day, nearly twelve hours. Yet, it felt as though she had only napped for thirty minutes, likely due to the vivid dreams. The evening had already settled in, and Miranda slid out of bed, pulling back the curtains. The city was now illuminated with bright, shimmering lights. Contrary to what Derek had mentioned, Rome could indeed be vibrant at night, though its charm was fleeting, confined to the early evening hours. Suddenly, the ringing of a phone broke the silence. Not her cellphone, but the landline in her hotel room. “Hello?” “Good evening, is this Miranda?” came the voice from the hotel’s front desk. “Yes, it’s me. How can I help you?” “Apologies for disturbing you, Miss. We noticed from your registration that you are American. We were wondering if you could assist us with something?” The receptionist sounded flustered. The hotel was hosting a large tour group from America, but the group’s guide was absent, leaving both sides struggling to communicate. With night approaching, the elderly tourists needed to check into their rooms soon, and the hotel staff was at a loss. In desperation, they had looked up guest information and saw that Miranda could potentially help. Miranda took a moment to collect herself. She wasn’t in a rush and wasn’t occupied with anything pressing. “Sure, I can come down to help.” The receptionist's relief was palpable. “Thank you so much, Miss. We truly appreciate it.” “No problem.”Miranda quickly threw on some casual clothes. She didn’t bother styling her hair, leaving it loose around her shoulders, which lent her a sophisticated yet effortless air. As she stepped out of the elevator, the receptionist was already waiting by the door. “Miranda?” “Yes, that's me.” “Thank you again for this. Please follow me.” The hotel lobby was bustling with noise. Miranda quickly scanned the area; there were at least fifty or sixty people, filling the lobby to the brim. It was difficult for other guests to enter or exit, and tensions were clearly running high. Worse still, the group appeared to be a senior citizens’ tour. The travelers, all donning matching red baseball caps, were visibly tired from a long day of sightseeing. Their gray hair and weary faces revealed how exhausting the situation was for them. After a full day of walking, all they wanted was to check into their rooms, but the language barrier had left them stranded in the lobby. The moment Miranda arrived, several elderly tourists surrounded her. One particularly feisty woman grabbed her wrist as if to say, “You’re not going anywhere until this gets fixed!” “You’re finally here! You’re the hotel manager, right? We’ve been stuck here for nearly an hour! If something happens to us, will your hotel take responsibility?” the woman demanded, her grip tightening. Another elderly man, clearly agitated, chimed in, “That’s right! I’m so thirsty, and no one has offered us a single drop of water! I haven’t even taken my blood pressure medication because of this delay!” The hotel receptionist, clearly unnerved by the situation, rushed to shield Miranda. She didn’t understand what the elderly guests were saying, but it was clear they were directing all their frustration at her. The receptionist attempted to explain, but speaking English or Italian made no difference—the tourists couldn’t understand a word. Miranda gently stopped her. “Don’t call security. These guests are elderly and might not handle the situation well. Let me explain.” “Thank you, Miranda. We’re so grateful…” “No need to thank me yet. First, can you ask the staff to bring some water for them? Some of the guests need to take medication.” “Oh, of course! Right away.”The receptionist hurriedly instructed the staff to bring water, and within minutes, several waiters arrived with cups of water for the tourists. With something to drink, the group’s collective mood softened, though a few remained irritable. One elderly woman sighed, “Young lady, the service here is terrible. Why did it take you so long to come? We’re all over sixty years old—we don’t have the stamina to stand around like this after such a long day.” Miranda offered a warm smile. “I apologize. The hotel staff will do everything they can to get you checked in as quickly as possible. But, may I ask, where is your tour guide? Normally, they would handle your accommodations.” The woman sighed and slapped her thigh in exasperation. “The guide was in a car accident! They said they’d send someone else, but we’ve been waiting for hours. Most of us don’t even know how to use our phones properly. Thank goodness someone kind showed us the way here; otherwise, we’d have been sleeping on the streets tonight!” A car accident was indeed an unfortunate complication. “Let’s sort out the tour guide situation later. For now, I’ll help get everyone checked in.” “Please do! We’re exhausted.” Miranda made her way to the front desk, speaking in English with the hotel staff. Soon, she turned to the group and motioned for them to form a line. “Everyone, please line up. One by one, we’ll get through this faster. Have your passports ready…”