James wasn’t at all surprised when Mirabe spoke her mind, after all, the girl had a sharpness about her that was beyond imagination.


    “You guessed right,” he admitted without any attempt to hide it.


    At <b>his </b>words, it felt like a tension within Mirabe finally eased. She wasn’t really worried that Catherine would do anything rash, but she needed to know where she was,


    “Your grandma rang me upst night.” James exined sinctly, “Seems she didn’t want you caught in the middle of whatever is brewing between her and the Gilberts, so she asked if 1 could drop her back at her ce.”


    “I understand,” Mirabe sighed softly. How could she not see Catherine’s intent? After a brief silence, she collected her thoughts and asked, “Where Is she <i>now</i><i>?</i>”


    James nced at his watch. “She should be home by now.”


    As if sensing that Mirabe needed reassurance, he added, “Don’t worry, I arranged for someone to escort your grandma. No mishaps.”


    Mirabe gave a small nod of thanks, fixing James with a serious look. “Thanks a lot.”


    James raised an eyebrow. His tone was nonchnt. “Are we still on formal terms? Come on, my lifesaver.”


    Mirabe gave him a sidelong nce and a half–smile. “Also since when did I acquire a tutor?”


    With azy shrug. James yed along. “Just a beautiful misunderstanding.”


    Mirabe chuckled, pocketing Catherine’s letter and turning to leave the hospital.


    “Let’s keep up the misunderstanding then.” Her voice trailed away as she waved a goodbye. Her silhouette stretched long under the streetlights. James smiled thoughtfully and followed


    after her.


    Outside the hospital, Mirabe reached for her phone to check the time, only to find it had died. She put it back in her pocket and after a brief pause, she looked up at James. “Did you drive here?”


    “Huh?” James looked at her, puzzled.


    “I’m out of battery<b>, </b>and I don’t have cash on me. How about Mr. James ys the good guy and gives me a lift?” Mirabe asked without any trace of formality.


    James arched an eyebrow. “I thought you’d invite me for dinner.”


    “Expecting a high school kid without a penny to her name to treat you? Tell me, Mr. James, is that really appropriate for a tutor?” Mirabe emphasized each word with clear artiction.


    A twitch tugged at James‘ lips. “What if I treat you?”


    <b>1/2 </b>


    <b>12:15 </b>


    Mirabe waved off the offer. “No thanks. My family will worry if they can’t reach me.”


    “Let’s <b>on</b>” James said, rubbing his temple without further teasing.


    They quickly got into the car. Inside, James gripped the steering <b>wheel </b>with one hand, is elbow rested on the window frame. His head tilted, his fingers pressing against his temple. Hisplexion was unusually pale, and there was a hint of fatigue around his eyes.


    Mirabe onby nced at him briefly before asking casually, <i>“</i>Rough night?”


    “Is it that obvious?” James‘ voice was low, and he turned to look at her as he spoke.


    Mirabe’s eves narrowed slightly as she pieced together his recent trip to Riverdale and Catherine’s current drama. She suddenly said, almost in disbelief, “You didn’t rush back overnight because of my grandma, did you?”


    James continued massaging his temple, deflecting the question lightly. “When the work’s done. naturally it’s time to head back.”


    At that, Mirabe fell into a thoughtful silence.