CAUGHT BETWEEN THE MIKEALSONS

CHAPTER NINE

LIYAH’S POV

When the train finally arrived in Paris, I didn’t get off immediately.

I just sat there, staring through the window.

I had imagined this moment so many times.

Paris was supposed to be beautiful.

It was supposed to be the beginning of everything Daniel and I had dreamed about.

But I was alone.

I picked up my bag and stepped off the train.

The station was crowded.

People were moving in every direction, dragging suitcases behind them and talking on their phones.

I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out where to go.

I had no one waiting for me.

That was when reality really hit me.

I was in Paris.

And I had nowhere to go.

I walked outside with my bag.

The streets were busy, but I didn’t know any of them.

I checked my phone.

I still had some money, but not enough to waste.

I opened a hotel app and started looking.

The prices made my heart sink.

Even the cheapest places were more than I could comfortably afford.

I locked my phone.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “I’ll figure something out.”

I walked for a while, hoping I would somehow find a cheap place.

I didn’t.

By evening, my feet hurt.

I hadn’t eaten much since morning, and my stomach was starting to hurt.

I bought a small sandwich and a bottle of water from a shop and sat outside for a while.

People walked past me without paying attention.

I wondered how many of them had somewhere to go.

I looked at my phone again.

There were several missed calls from my mother.

Then one from Daniel.

I couldn’t bring myself to answer any of them.

I didn’t know what I would say.

I had told them I was okay.

I wasn’t.

As it got darker, I started getting nervous.

I couldn’t stay outside all night.

I walked towards the station again and found a place where I could sit.

There were other people around, some with bags beside them, some lying down with their belongings close to them.

I sat at the far end of the waiting area.

I kept my bag on my lap.

Every few minutes, I looked around.

I was scared someone would take it.

I was scared someone would notice how alone I was.

I was scared of everything.

At some point, I rested my head against the wall.

I tried to sleep.

But every small sound woke me up.

A few hours later, I looked at the time.

2:13 a.m.

My eyes were burning.

I pulled my jacket closer around myself.

This wasn’t how I imagined Paris.

I thought about my room back home.

My mother’s voice.

Daniel.

My bed.

Everything suddenly felt so far away.

I wiped my eyes.

I couldn’t go back.

Not yet.

I had already made my choice.

I just had to survive it.

The next morning, I woke up with a stiff neck and a terrible headache.

I looked at myself through my phone camera.

I barely recognized myself.

My hair was messy, and my eyes were swollen from crying.

I stood up and picked up my bag.

I needed a job.

That was the first thing I had to do.

I walked around for hours, checking shops, cafés and small businesses.

Every time I saw a “recherche employé” sign, my heart jumped.

But most places wanted experience or qualifications I didn’t have.

By afternoon, I was exhausted again.

I sat on a bench and opened my phone.

I searched for jobs.

Housekeeping.

Cleaning.

Waitressing.

Anything.

I didn’t care anymore.

I just needed something.

Then I saw a listing.

HOUSEKEEPER WANTED.

I read it again.

It was a live-in position.

I stared at the screen.

A place to work.

A place to sleep.

Maybe this was exactly what I needed.

I saved the number immediately.

For the first time since arriving in Paris, I felt a tiny bit of hope.

I stood up and adjusted my bag.

I didn’t know who the employer was.

I didn’t know what kind of house it was.

And I definitely didn’t know that accepting that job would bring me into a life I had never imagined.

But at that moment, I didn’t have the luxury of being picky.

I just needed a chance.

And I was willing to take it.