"Uncle Bert, don’t forget, I just won an award with a $10,000 prize. Money’s not a problem." Bert shook his head and said, "Even so, it’s important to save where we can. We’re just regular folks, and making money is never easy. Let’s join a group tour." Miranda nodded in agreement. "Alright, I’ll contact the guide now." Bert hesitated for a moment before asking, "By the way, Miranda, is Jackson... joining us on this trip?" Miranda paused briefly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Do you want him to join us, Uncle?" Bert shook his head. "Miranda, I may be old, but I can still see what's going on. He likes you, but it’s clear you don’t feel the same." The words hit Miranda like a sudden gust of wind, freezing her in place. Just earlier, right in this very room, Jackson had poured his heart out to her. For a moment, she had almost softened and considered accepting him. Her feelings for Jackson were complicated. Sometimes, she wondered if she would ever truly fall in love again. And if love was off the table for her, wouldn’t it be better to choose someone who already loved her? But something deep inside her resisted. She didn’t want any ties to her past life, especially ones that involved Jackson. Most of all, she knew she would never truly love him. And stringing him along just because he cared for her felt wrong. He was a good man—deserving of a love that was more than her pity or reluctance. Bert's words snapped her out of her daze. Miranda felt a wave of relief. Thank goodness her uncle had shown up when he did. A few more minutes, and she might have given in to Jackson’s emotions. But being moved was not the same as love. And feelings like that never lasted long. "Okay," she said. "It'll just be you and me on the trip." Bert’s face lit up with happiness. As he left, he added, "Don’t forget to eat those dumplings while they’re still warm." After seeing Bert off to the elevator, Miranda returned to her room and contacted the tour guide, informing him of her decision to join the group.The guide sounded delighted. "That’s great! I’ll get everything arranged right away. How many people in your party?" "Two." "Got it. And, uh, the other person is male or female?" Miranda didn’t think much of the question, assuming it had to do with room arrangements. "Male." "Oh... a guy, huh," the guide muttered, sounding a bit disappointed. "Is there a problem with booking the rooms?" she asked. "No, no, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Just send me your passport numbers so I can finalize the tickets. Your Roman adventure is all set—leave everything to me. I promise to take care of everything perfectly." The guide’s enthusiasm made Miranda smile. She had been so busy lately that a fully organized trip sounded like a dream. Group tours might not offer much freedom, but they certainly took away the stress of planning. After finalizing the details, the guide reminded her, "Tomorrow at 7:30 sharp, meet downstairs. There’ll be a bus to take us to the Colosseum." Miranda set an alarm for 6:30. With no nearby breakfast spots, she planned to wake up early and cook something herself. There was a small supermarket down the street she could stop by. Changing into a comfortable outfit, she grabbed her wallet and keys and headed out. The moment she stepped into the hallway, she collided with a broad chest. Startled, she quickly stepped aside to let the man pass. "Sorry, please go ahead." "Thank you." The man brushed past her, swiping his key card to open the door to room 2306. Miranda watched him disappear into his room, lingering in thought. So he’s the guy staying in 2306, she mused. Oddly enough, that row of rooms barely got any sunlight. For someone who looked like he belonged to the upper class, why wasn’t he staying in the penthouse? Instead, he was holed up in one of the darkest, most cramped rooms. People were so strange sometimes. The Roman supermarket was surprisingly similar to the ones back home. Miranda picked up some eggs, vegetables, lean meat, and a small bag of rice. The rice even had Chinese characters on it, probably imported from China. Her phone rang as she reached the checkout. Glancing at the screen, she saw it was Jackson. "Hello? Jackson?" "Miranda, you’re not in your room? Which guy did you run off with?" Miranda smiled slyly. "A Roman guy. He looked to be about fifty, seemed like a good-hearted fellow. Even said 'Hello' to me." "Are you serious? I was joking! Fifty? That’s almost your uncle’s age. Where are you? Tell me, and I’ll go beat up this Roman old man!" Miranda's smile widened. "Relax. I’m just messing with you. I’m at the supermarket, and your 'old man' is at the register helping me pay." "Unbelievable! You’re playing with me?" "Are you mad?" "How could I ever be mad at you?" Jackson quickly softened, his tone more careful now. "What are you buying? You should’ve told me. There’s no need for you to go out so late. You know how unsafe Europe can be at night, right? This isn’t like back home." "Since when did you become so polite, Jackson?" "Polite? Nah, I’m not being polite. I’m just trying to impress you after my confession," he admitted, his tone a bit frustrated. "I’ve been tossing and turning, holding my phone, waiting for you to call me back. But you never did, so I thought I’d take the initiative." Miranda said nothing. Jackson, sensing the silence, asked nervously, "So... have you thought about my proposal?" "I—" "Wait, don’t answer yet," Jackson quickly cut in. "I can’t handle rejection right now. Let’s talk about it after our trip. By the way, I’ve already planned out our itinerary for tomorrow—" "Jackson," Miranda interrupted. He responded immediately, "Yes? What’s wrong?" Miranda hesitated, feeling guilty. "It’s just... my uncle prefers group tours. He likes being around people, chatting with others. I think it’d be better for him."Jackson quickly adjusted. "Oh, right. I remember now. That tour is for older folks, right? He’ll definitely have more in common with them than with us. How about this—you give me the guide’s number, and I’ll join the group too." "I already signed up." "Already? But you didn’t even ask for my ID. How’d you manage that? Wait, did you memorize it secretly?" "No," Miranda said, taking a deep breath, steeling herself. "I only signed up for me and my uncle. You have work, and there’s a guide in the group. It’s better if you don’t waste your time..."