Chapter 780: Chapter 780 Why does it smell weird?

Dominique was waiting for her outside.

He looked tired. His hair was messy, sticking up in places. His hoodie was wrinkled, like he had slept in it. Dark circles hung under his eyes.

"You’re here early," she said.

He handed her an envelope. "I couldn’t sleep. The ticket haunted me. I dreamed about it. It was floating above my bed, laughing at me."

Bella took the envelope and tucked it into her bag. "I’ll give it to someone."

"Thank you, my little baby sister." He rubbed her hair gently. "You have saved my life. My sanity. My soul."

Then he walked away, already on his phone, probably texting Jason.

Bella headed to campus.

The lab was quiet when she arrived.

The morning light was soft, casting long shadows across the workbenches. The robots glinted in the dim glow, their metal limbs still, their lights off. The air smelled of metal and solder.

Winter was already there.

She was standing at the main workbench, her back to the door, her dark hair pulled back in that sleek, high ponytail. She was wearing black again. Black jeans, black sweater and black boots. Her shoulders were straight, her posture perfect.

"Good morning," Bella said.

Winter turned.

Her dark eyes swept over Bella. "You’re early," Winter said.

"So are you."

Winter tilted her head slightly. Her lips pressed together. "I’m always early."

She gestured to the workbench. "Let’s begin."

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Bella enjoyed her time with Winter.

The morning passed quickly, the hours melting away as they worked side by side at the lab bench. Winter explained the robotics project in detail. The sensors, the actuators, the code that made the machines move. Her voice was low, her words precise. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries or small talk. She simply explained and Bella listened.

When Winter spoke slowly and patiently, Bella understood everything. She nodded, asked questions and offered suggestions. Her brown eyes were bright with curiosity, her lips curved in a small, focused smile.

But when Winter spoke fast, when she got excited about a particular component or a line of code, Bella’s brow would furrow. Her lips would press together. Her head would tilt slightly like a puppy hearing a strange sound.

Winter noticed this. She filed it away in her mind. Bella learns better slowly and patiently. One step at a time.

She adjusted her pace and Bella thrived.

Around noon, Winter stepped back from the workbench. She wiped her hands on a cloth and walked to a small refrigerator in the corner of the lab.

"I got something for you," she said.

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a tiffin box, a simple metal container, nothing fancy. She carried it to a small sitting area near the window, where two chairs faced each other across a low table. The table was old, the wood scratched but it was clean.

Bella followed her.

They sat down. Winter opened the tiffin box.

Inside were sandwiches. Neatly cut, crusts removed, arranged in perfect rows. The bread was golden brown, lightly toasted. The filling looked like chicken and lettuce and something creamy, maybe mayonnaise or yogurt.

Winter’s dark eyes flickered up to meet Bella’s.

"Take one," she said.

Bella smiled and took a sandwich.

Winter watched her. Her gaze was intense and focused like she was observing an experiment.

Bella took a bite.

The bread was soft. The chicken was tender, shredded into small pieces. The sauce was tangy and sweet with a hint of something spicy. It was delicious. Perfectly balanced. Made with care.

Winter’s eyes lit up.

Bella noticed. The cold, expressionless girl now had a spark in her dark eyes. A flicker of warmth, a hint of pride.

"These are good," Bella said.

Winter’s lips curved slightly.

"I made them," she said.

She looked like a proud cat. Her chin lifted. Her shoulders straightened. Her eyes gleamed.

Bella found it cute.

She took another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the taste. Winter watched her, still waiting, still hoping for approval.

"They’re really good," Bella said again.

Winter nodded, satisfied.

They ate in comfortable silence, the afternoon light streaming through the window, casting warm shadows on the floor. The only sounds were the soft crunch of bread and the distant low sound of the computers.

Bella pulled out a bottle of orange juice from her bag. It was homemade, made by Aunt Clara that morning. The glass bottle was cold against her palm, the liquid inside a deep, rich orange that came from fresh-squeezed fruit.

She unscrewed the cap and took a sip. The taste was fresh, sweet, perfect. Just like always.

She offered the bottle to Winter.

"Want some? My Aunt Clara made it this morning. It’s fresh."

Winter took the bottle. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed.

Her face scrunched up. Her nose wrinkled. Her eyes narrowed.

"Why does it smell weird?" she asked.

Bella blinked. She took the bottle back and sniffed it herself. The smell was normal. Sweet. Citrusy. Familiar, like oranges straight from the tree.

"I can’t smell anything other than orange," Bella said.

Winter’s dark eyes narrowed further. "I’m sensitive to smells. Some people are. I can detect things others can’t."

She looked at the bottle with suspicion like it had personally offended her. Her lips pressed together.

"Throw it away," she said. "Maybe the oranges were adulterated. You never know what they put in store-bought fruit. Chemicals. Preservatives. Artificial flavors."

Bella hesitated. Orange juice was her favorite. Aunt Clara made it specially for her, squeezing each orange by hand, adding just a touch of sugar to balance the tartness. There was nothing artificial in it. Only love and fruit.

But Winter was sensitive to smells. Maybe she was right about this. Maybe the oranges had been sprayed with something.

Bella put the bottle back in her bag.

Winter reached into her own bag and pulled out a small glass bottle. The liquid inside was pale gold, almost translucent, catching the light like liquid sunshine.

"Fresh lychee juice," she said. "I made it this morning."

She poured some into a small cup and handed it to Bella.

Bella took a sip.

Her eyes lit up. Her lips parted. Her whole face brightened.

The juice was sweet, floral and refreshing. It tasted like summer. Like something she had been missing her whole life without knowing it.

"This is amazing," she said.

Winter’s lips curved again. "I know."

Bella took another sip. Then another.

She had found her new favorite drink.

Winter watched her, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips.