Dragnelle's brows lifted slightly, her expression one of genuine concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said softly. "That must be so hard to carry."
Mioura's expression hardened, her voice quieter now. "We were drunk. It wasn't unusual. Our father used to pit us against each other when we were kids. Boxing gloves at four years old." She paused, her voice softening as she added, "It left its mark."
Dragnelle nodded slowly, her pen still for a moment. "But through it all, you had that bond," she said gently. "Twins always do."
Mioura's lips pressed together, her gaze dropping. "We were monozygotic," she said softly. "You don't get closer than that. I loved her." Her voice wavered, and she swallowed hard. "I just… wish I'd been there for her."
Dragnelle reached out as though to comfort her, her gesture hesitating mid-air before she withdrew. "That kind of love doesn't fade," she said gently. "It stays, no matter what."
Mioura's phone buzzed, breaking the moment. She glanced at the screen, her expression darkening. Sliding the phone into her bag, she stood abruptly. "I need to go," she said curtly, her tone brisk.
Dragnelle rose as well, her movements deliberate and smooth. "The life of a CEO of a multinational like Rokoto," she remarked lightly, her tone laced with just enough admiration to seem sincere. "Listen, let me get the coffee next time. You've been very generous with your time." She paused, a polite smile gracing her lips. "If perhaps your mother would be willing to speak—"
Mioura cut her off, her voice sharp but not raised. "Look, I'm happy to help you, but my mother is not to be disturbed," she said firmly, her words punctuated by the tension in her expression. "She's lost both a husband and a daughter in less than two years. I don't want anything else to upset her."
Before Dragnelle could respond, Mioura stepped away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she exited the coffee shop without another word. Dragnelle stood by the table, watching her retreat with a faintly amused smile.
Sliding her notebook into her bag, she picked up her cane and turned toward the counter, her mind already working through the conversation. Mioura's reaction had been telling. And the text message… She's not NIS. That had struck a chord.