The next time your paths cross it's not an accident.

A knock at the front door of the shabby little apartment you used to own with Nate gains your attention and you put your book down, straightening your legs and rising from the old sofa in the middle of your living room.

You open the door and your features morph into an expression of surprise at seeing Miranda standing in front of you, her hands clasped in front of her holding her Prada bag.

"Miranda?" Your voice hold the unspoken question; 'What are you doing here?'

Miranda offers you a small smile – it couldn't possibly be shy, could it? – and answers anyway.

"Andréa, I'm sorry to stop by unannounced, but you left something in the hospital. Instead of calling you back to collect it, I offered to bring it." Even though her tone is even, you can tell that something's not quite right. You were her best assistant and although 5 years have passed, somehow your instincts at listening to what she doesn't say have only improved.

"Oh, well, thanks." It's awkward for a moment and you can't stand it, so you step aside. "Please, come in. Can I get you a cup of coffee? It's not Starbucks, but…"

Miranda laughs and you can't help but think that it's a beautiful sound. You want to hear it more often.

"Andréa, I've always preferred your coffee to Starbucks; you know that."

And then it's awkward again because, although you're not sure why, instead of ignoring the little comment, you address it.

"No, actually, I didn't know that…"

The atmosphere is tense and the silence is thick and you wish that sometimes you would just stop and think before you speak.

The light seems to die in Miranda's eyes and she almost visibly deflates before you, and you wish (stupid, stupid, stupid!) that you hadn't said anything.

"Yes, well… Never mind the coffee. Here." She opens the bag and fishes out a necklace. It's simple but beautiful, a golden heart with a keyhole in the middle. You stare at it in awe but can't help pointing something out.

"That's not my necklace; I've never seen it before."

Miranda's grip on it tightens slightly and you get the feeling that you should have just smiled and thanked her.

You think that Miranda's words catch in her throat, but you can't be sure. "You were wearing it when you got to the hospital; it must be yours."

You look into her eyes and feel a chill. Every nerve is screaming at you to keep your mouth shut and accept it.

You nod slightly and put your hand out, palm up. Miranda seems to relax slightly and she lowers it into your hand gently, her fingers brushing against yours as you tell yourself that there's no spark of electricity at the slight contact.

"Thank you." The words seem slightly forced as they leave your mouth and you know that Miranda can tell. Her lips tighten into a line and you find yourself wishing for the smiling, laughing Miranda that had entered you apartment. Vaguely, you wonder what happened to cause it all to go so wrong so quickly.

"Yes. Well. I'll be leaving."

And then, once again, she's gone. Your apartment door swings shut behind her and you're left with your coffee (which she prefers to Starbucks, as you should know) and a gold necklace which makes you wonder.

Maybe, just maybe, Miranda was trying to give you a present?

You look at the necklace again and feel… happy. You know that you'll treasure it, because although you somehow messed up the giving, you can still enjoy the receiving.