Eternal Echoes

Chapter Seventy- Three: The Interview

Michaella's POV

I woke up to the soft rustling of the morning breeze through the curtains. The familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee drifted into my room, pulling me fully awake. Stretching out, I felt the comforting weight of my childhood bed beneath me. The past few days at my parents' house had been exactly what I needed, though part of me was eager to return to my routine. But my parents were adamant—I wasn't leaving until they were sure I was back to full strength.

Slipping out of bed, my feet touched the cool wooden floor as I made my way downstairs. Entering the kitchen, I found Mom at the counter, pouring a cup of coffee.

"Morning, sweetheart," she greeted me with a warm smile, handing me the cup. "How did you sleep?"

"Morning, Mom. I slept well, thanks," I replied, taking the cup gratefully. "You didn't have to make me coffee, you know."

She waved off my comment with a smile. "Nonsense. You've got a big day ahead. I wanted to make sure you're all set for the interview."

I nodded, sipping the coffee. "Thanks. I'm feeling a lot better, and I think I'm ready."

Mom watched me carefully, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Just don't push yourself too hard, okay? Remember what the doctor said."

"I won't, I promise." I placed my hand on her arm, trying to reassure her. "I'll take it one step at a time."

She nodded, seeming satisfied. "Good. I'm proud of you, Michaella. You've been through a lot, but you're handling it all with such grace."

Her words brought a surge of emotion, and I squeezed her hand. "Thanks, Mom. That means a lot."

We stood in comfortable silence until the sound of my phone ringing broke the moment. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was a FaceTime call from Pamela.

"Pamela's calling," I said, holding up my phone.

"Go ahead, I'll give you some privacy," Mom said, squeezing my shoulder before stepping out of the kitchen.

I accepted the call, and Pamela's radiant face filled the screen, even from across the ocean in Paris.

"Morning, darling!" Pamela greeted cheerfully. "Or should I say bonjour?"

"Bonjour, Pamela. How's Paris?"

"Oh, you know, fabulous as always. But let's talk about you! I heard today's a big day—interview time, right?"

"Yes, it is," I confirmed, taking another sip of coffee. "I'm a bit nervous, to be honest."

"Of course, you are, but you're going to be amazing, as always." Pamela's confidence was contagious. "Now, let's get you looking the part. Have you picked out an outfit yet?"

"Not yet. That's actually why I'm glad you called. I could use your help."

"Say no more! Let's see what you've got."

I headed back to my bedroom, propping the phone up as I opened my closet. "I'm thinking something classic, maybe a little sophisticated? I want to look professional but not too stiff."

"Perfect," Pamela agreed. "How about that yellow dress you have? The one with layers that you've never worn?"

I pulled the dress from the closet, holding it up for Pamela to see. "This one?"

"Yes, that's the one! It's perfect—elegant, with just the right touch of colour. Pair it with those gold earrings I love, and you'll be all set."