Chapter 4
Saturday evening arrived with an air of anticipation. The city buzzed quietly outside the restaurant as Roselle and Miranda prepared for the night, each in their respective apartments.
Roselle had taken her time getting ready, wanting to strike the right balance of elegance and professionalism, with just a touch of warmth. She had chosen a long, flowing purple dress that shimmered slightly under the light. The fabric hugged her figure in all the right ways, the deep color complementing her green eyes. Her hair was swept into an elegant updo, leaving only a few soft strands framing her face. She finished her look with understated makeup and a pair of silver heels, adding the perfect amount of height.
Miranda, on the other hand, had approached the evening with her usual precision. Though she wasn’t one for extravagant attire, she wanted to make an effort. She had chosen a sleek, black dress—plain in design, but stunning in how it fit her. The fabric clung gracefully to her figure, its simplicity exuding power and elegance. Miranda left her long, platinum-blonde hair cascading freely down her back, her heels adding an extra edge to her tall frame.
-Fleur Argentée, September 16, 1958-
When they met outside the restaurant, the sight of each other momentarily rendered them silent.
Roselle was the first to speak, her voice light but genuine. "You look incredible, Miranda."
Miranda allowed herself a faint smile. "As do you. Shall we?"
The restaurant was warm and inviting, its interior illuminated by soft, golden light. Large windows offered a sweeping view of the docks, the water reflecting the city’s glow like scattered stars. A host guided them to a quiet table near the window, where they settled in, the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filling the space around them.
As they sat down, Miranda felt a strange sense of calm. It was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Roselle smiled at her, breaking the silence. “So, how was your day?”
Miranda raised an eyebrow, considering the question. “Productive, as always. Though I admit, I was somewhat distracted by... tonight.”
Roselle chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a good thing. You deserve a break, Miranda. You’ve earned it.”
Their conversation continued smoothly. Roselle recounted an amusing mishap with one of the newer lab assistants, drawing a rare, genuine smile from Miranda. The way her lips curved upward was subtle but mesmerizing, and Roselle felt a small flutter in her chest, though she quickly brushed it aside.
Miranda, in turn, shared a sharp but witty critique of the lab's inefficiencies, her dry humor catching Roselle off guard.
"You’re funnier than you let on, you know," Roselle remarked with a teasing smile.
Miranda arched a brow. "I don’t see much use for humor in most situations. But I suppose... tonight feels different."
"Different how?" Roselle asked, leaning in slightly.
Miranda hesitated, her eyes flickering toward the window before returning to Roselle. "Less... constrained. It’s not often I allow myself a reprieve from work."
"Then I’m glad I convinced you," Roselle said warmly.
As their main courses were cleared away, Roselle glanced toward the small stage at the far end of the room. The pianist who had been playing throughout the evening was stepping down, leaving the space momentarily empty.
"I’ll be right back," Roselle said with a smile, standing gracefully from her chair.
Miranda watched with mild curiosity as Roselle walked toward the stage. She exchanged a few words with the pianist, who nodded and adjusted the microphone.
"Good evening, everyone," Roselle said into the mic, her voice carrying through the room with a natural confidence. "I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to share a song tonight. It’s one that means a lot to me, and I hope you’ll enjoy it."
Miranda’s eyes narrowed slightly in intrigue. What is she up to now?
The pianist began to play, the gentle notes filling the room like a soft breeze. Then Roselle’s voice joined, rich and smooth, carrying the lyrics of "In The Roses" with an emotional depth that captivated the room.
"Do you hear the hummingbird?
The faintest tune you ever heard.
It’s there in the roses."
The room seemed to hold its breath as Roselle sang, her voice weaving through the melody like a thread of gold. Miranda found herself unable to look away. There was something mesmerizing about the way Roselle performed—effortlessly vulnerable, yet strong.
"Don’t let go, don’t let go,
Stay with me until tomorrow."
Miranda felt an unfamiliar tightness in her chest as the song continued, the lyrics resonating with a part of her she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge. There was something raw, something deeply human in Roselle’s voice that broke through the walls Miranda had so carefully built.
When the song ended, the room erupted into applause. Roselle smiled graciously, her eyes briefly flicking to Miranda, who remained silent but visibly moved.
-----
Roselle returned to the table, her cheeks slightly flushed, but her smile radiant. “I hope you didn’t mind the surprise,” she said, sitting down.
Miranda shook her head, her voice softer than usual. “That was... beautiful. You have a gift.”
“Thank you,” Roselle said, her gaze steady. “I thought it might be nice to do something special. You seem like someone who rarely allows themselves to experience moments like this.”
Miranda took a deep breath, the words sinking in. “You’re not wrong,” she admitted.
Roselle tilted her head, her expression gentle. “What is it that keeps you so guarded, Miranda? You’re brilliant, passionate, but... there’s a sadness in you. I can see it.”
For a moment, Miranda considered brushing off the question, deflecting as she always did. But something about the way Roselle looked at her, with genuine concern and understanding, made her hesitate.
“It’s... complicated,” Miranda said finally, her voice quiet. “My research—it’s not just about science. It’s personal.”
Roselle leaned forward slightly, her attention unwavering. “Tell me.”
Miranda hesitated, her hands tightening slightly around her glass. “I’m trying to bring someone back. Someone I lost a long time ago. My daughter, Eva.”
Roselle’s eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing, allowing Miranda the space to continue.
“She was everything to me,” Miranda said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “And when I lost her... it broke me. My work became my only purpose, my only hope.
Roselle’s heart ached at the rawness of Miranda’s words. She had sensed there was something deeper driving Miranda’s work, but she hadn’t expected this.
"I’m so sorry," Roselle said softly, her voice filled with genuine compassion. "I can’t imagine how much that must hurt. But... do you ever worry that in chasing this goal, you might lose yourself along the way?"
Miranda looked away, her jaw tightening. "I’ve thought about it. But I can’t stop. If I fail, it means Eva is gone forever. And I can’t accept that."
Roselle reached across the table, her hand resting gently on Miranda’s. "I understand why you feel that way. I also know that what I'm about to ask seems sudden, but I have words if you would hear them. The world we live in takes more than it gives, but there is a balance. I have the power to limit the harm all of this can cause, so I have chosen to act. You have me now. And I’ll do everything I can to help you—not just with the research, but with finding balance. You deserve that, Miranda."
Roselle gently grips Miranda's hand, offering support. "We tend to push away the feelings we can never truly understand. We push away things we don’t want to imagine. But this matters greatly to the both of us. I know you’ve run from these feelings for years. I need you to trust me, and in order for that to happen you must open your heart. Not just for me but for the world. I know you feel lost right now, but when you open your heart to the world as you have opened it to your daughter, you will see the purpose of living.
Miranda felt a lump rise in her throat, a strange mixture of gratitude and sorrow washing over her. She hadn’t expected such words, hadn’t expected Roselle to understand—or to care.
“Thank you,” Miranda said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “I... I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”
Roselle smiled, her hand still resting lightly on Miranda’s. “Sometimes, we all need a little reminder that we’re not alone.”
The two women sat in silence for a moment, their connection deepening in a way neither of them fully understood yet. The night felt like a turning point—a fragile, delicate step toward something new.
-Home-
Later that evening, the city hummed softly in the background as Roselle stepped into her apartment. The quiet luxury of her home offered a welcome contrast to the busyness of the world outside. She slipped off her heels and draped her purple dress over a velvet armchair, opting for a comfortable robe as she padded barefoot into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine.
Sinking into the plush sofa, Roselle let the events of the evening replay in her mind. Dinner had been far more significant than she had anticipated. Miranda had opened up, sharing a piece of herself that she rarely allowed anyone to see. It was a side of the scientist that Roselle couldn’t help but admire—and worry about.
As she swirled the wine in her glass, Roselle glanced at her phone. She hesitated for a moment before deciding to call Miranda. They had spent hours together already, but something told her Miranda might need someone to talk to tonight.
The phone rang twice before Miranda’s voice answered, calm and measured as always.
“Roselle,” Miranda said. “Is everything all right?”
Roselle smiled, her voice light and reassuring. “Everything’s fine. I just wanted to check in on you. It was... a big evening for both of us, I think.”
There was a brief pause before Miranda responded. “Yes, I suppose it was.”
Roselle leaned back against the sofa, cradling the phone against her ear. “I was also thinking about work—where we should focus our efforts next. There’s still so much to do, and I want to make sure we’re making the best use of our time.”
Miranda hummed softly in agreement. “Yes, there are several avenues we need to explore. I’ll have a more detailed plan for us in the morning.”
Roselle could hear the slight edge in Miranda’s tone, a subtle undercurrent of tension that hadn’t been there earlier. She frowned, her voice softening. “Miranda, are you all right? You sound... preoccupied.”
Another pause, longer this time. Roselle could almost hear the weight of Miranda’s thoughts pressing down on her.
“I’m fine,” Miranda said at last, though the words felt hollow.
Roselle wasn’t convinced. “Are you sure? You can talk to me, you know. I meant what I said earlier—you’re not alone in this.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and Roselle wondered if she had overstepped. But then, Miranda spoke, her voice quieter, more vulnerable than Roselle had ever heard it.
“I’m worried,” Miranda admitted. “Worried that all these years of research, all the sacrifices I’ve made... that they’ll amount to nothing. What if I fail, Roselle? What if I can’t bring her back?”
The raw emotion in Miranda’s voice struck Roselle deeply. She set her wine glass down and sat up straighter, her focus entirely on the woman on the other end of the line.
“Miranda,” Roselle began gently, “you’ve dedicated your life to this work. Your determination, your brilliance—it’s unmatched. I don’t believe for a second that it’s all for nothing. You’ve already accomplished so much, and even if the outcome isn’t exactly what you hope for, that doesn’t diminish the value of what you’ve done.”
Miranda let out a shaky breath. “It’s not just about the work. It’s about her. Eva. I promised her... I promised myself that I would find a way. But the closer I get, the more I fear that I’m chasing something that’s beyond my reach.”
Roselle felt her chest tighten at the vulnerability in Miranda’s voice. She hadn’t expected Miranda to admit to such a deep fear, and the weight of it was palpable. “Miranda,” Roselle said softly, “I can’t imagine how difficult this has been for you. But I want you to know something.”
“What?” Miranda asked, her tone cautious but curious.
Roselle’s voice was steady, filled with quiet determination. “You won’t fail. Not with me by your side. I meant what I said tonight—I’ll help you bring Eva back. That’s my promise to you. A mother’s promise.”
Miranda’s breath caught, and for a moment, she was unable to respond. The sincerity in Roselle’s words was unlike anything she had experienced in years. It wasn’t just sympathy—it was conviction, a promise made with the same unwavering resolve Miranda had once carried herself.
Miranda closed her eyes, a rare flicker of emotion breaking through her carefully constructed walls. “Roselle... I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Roselle replied. “Just know that you’re not alone in this. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Miranda felt the faintest spark of hope. It was fragile, almost imperceptible, but it was there. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Roselle’s voice softened. “You’ve carried this burden alone for so long, Miranda. You don’t have to anymore. Let me help lighten it.”
They talked a little longer, the conversation shifting back to lighter topics as Roselle carefully steered Miranda away from the depths of her worries. By the time they said goodnight, Miranda’s voice sounded calmer, and Roselle felt a sense of accomplishment in knowing she had been able to offer some comfort.
As Roselle hung up the phone and leaned back against the sofa, she couldn’t help but feel a deeper connection to Miranda. The enigmatic woman who had once seemed untouchable was now someone she cared about deeply, someone she wanted to help not just professionally, but personally.
And in her own apartment, Miranda sat quietly, the phone still in her hand. For the first time in years, she felt a sliver of hope—not just for her research, but for the possibility of something more...