BRIANNA

10. WHO ARE YOU?

BRIANNA'S POV

The moment we stepped out of the car, a well-dressed man appeared seemingly out of nowhere and took my bags, his movements efficient and practised. He led us to a private elevator, holding the door open with a courteous nod. I had never experienced anything like this before.

The sheer luxury of it all was overwhelming, from the sleek design of the elevator to the way everything seemed to move seamlessly around Sarah as if the world itself was designed to cater to her every need. It was a far cry from the life I was used to, where I did everything myself, and where there were no private elevators or people to carry my bags.

The independence I had always valued now felt out of place in this world of wealth and privilege, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever truly get used to this kind of life.

As the elevator doors closed behind us, I glanced over at Sarah, who seemed completely at ease in this environment, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her. And why wouldn’t she be? This was her life, after all—a life of privilege and comfort that was as foreign to me as anything I had ever encountered.

But even as I felt a twinge of discomfort, there was also a part of me that was curious, that wanted to see what it would be like to live in this world, even if only for a short while. It wasn’t just about the material comforts, though those were certainly impressive. It was about the chance to experience something different, to step outside of the life I had always known and see what else was out there. And maybe, just maybe, it was also about the possibility of finding a friend in Sarah, someone who understood what it was like to feel out of place, even in your own life.

"Thank you, John," Sarah said warmly as soon as we stepped into the penthouse, her voice carrying a note of genuine appreciation that made me glance over at the man who had escorted us. John, as she called him, was a tall, imposing figure with a calm demeanour that exuded confidence and professionalism.

He was the kind of person who seemed to blend into the background, yet you could tell that he was always aware of everything happening around him. His eyes briefly met mine, and I couldn’t help but notice the kindness in them, a stark contrast to his otherwise stoic appearance.

"My pleasure, Miss Williams. How was school today?" he asked, his tone respectful yet familiar, as if this exchange was part of their daily routine. There was something almost brotherly in the way he spoke to her, a subtle warmth that hinted at a long-standing relationship between them.

"It was fun. As you can see, I made a new friend," Sarah replied with a smile, her tone light and cheerful. "Sarah, this is my personal bodyguard, John. And John, this is my new best friend, Brianna." The way she introduced me, with such ease and confidence, made me feel a little more at ease, though the term "best friend" caught me off guard.

We had only just met, but Sarah spoke as if we had known each other for years, as if our bond was already something solid and enduring. It was both comforting and a little overwhelming, like being pulled into a world where everything moved just a bit faster than I was used to.

"Nice to meet you, John," I said, offering him a small smile. There was something about his presence that put me at ease, despite the unfamiliarity of the situation. He seemed friendly enough, and I appreciated the way he treated Sarah with such respect.

"Nice to meet you too, Miss Brianna," he replied, inclining his head slightly in a gesture of politeness. The formality of his address took me by surprise, and I felt a strange mix of amusement and discomfort. No one had ever called me "Miss Brianna" before; it felt odd, like trying on a piece of clothing that didn’t quite fit. Everyone back home simply called me Brianna, no titles, no formality—just my name, plain and simple.

I opened my mouth, intending to ask him to drop the "Miss" and just call me Brianna, but before I could get the words out, he gave Sarah a nod and quietly excused himself. His departure was so swift and smooth that it left me standing there, momentarily at a loss for what to do next. The penthouse was quiet without his presence, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound filling the space.

"John’s father owns a security company," Sarah explained as if sensing my curiosity. Her voice was casual, almost conversational, as she led me further into the penthouse. "Most of the staff at home and here are part of it, and John is the sole heir. He’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. He’s a university graduate, but you will never hear him say it." There was a hint of admiration in her tone, mixed with a touch of puzzlement as if she still couldn’t quite understand why someone like John would choose to be a bodyguard.

The revelation about John’s background was surprising, to say the least. Here was a man who could have pursued any number of careers, given his education and the resources at his disposal, yet he had chosen to work as a personal guard. It seemed almost counterintuitive like a doctor deciding to become a chef, or a lawyer opting to be a barista. "Why would he choose to be a bodyguard?" I found myself wondering out loud, the question slipping from my lips before I could stop it. It wasn’t just idle curiosity; there was something about John’s quiet dignity that made me want to understand more about him.

"I know what is on your mind," Sarah said with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling with the same curiosity I felt. "I ask myself the same question every day. It’s not like he can’t find a job—health care professionals are always needed in this country." The way she spoke, it was clear that she had thought about this a lot, that she had tried to reconcile the image of John as both a capable, intelligent man and someone who had chosen to take on a role that seemed so out of step with his potential.

It really doesn’t make any sense, but I am not going to keep asking questions. Everyone has a right to choose what they want to do in life, and if John chose to be a bodyguard, it was his choice, not mine. Maybe there’s more to his story, something deeper that he doesn’t share with just anyone. Or maybe it’s as simple as him preferring this line of work over anything else. Either way, it’s not my place to pry into his life decisions. I can respect that people are often more complex than they appear on the surface, and sometimes it’s best to leave it at that. After all, who am I to judge? My own life has been anything but straightforward, and here I am, suddenly thrust into a world that feels completely alien to me.

"Come with me, let me show you your room." Sarah’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts, and I followed her down the hallway. She led me to a room opposite the one she had pointed out as hers. My footsteps echoed softly on the polished floors, and I could feel my heartbeat quickening with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. What kind of room would it be? In my mind, I tried to temper my expectations, but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when she opened the door.

"Wow." The word escaped my lips before I could stop it, a reflexive gasp of awe at the sight before me. The room looked like something out of a magazine, one of those pristine, perfectly styled spaces that seemed more like a dream than reality. The walls were painted a soft, calming shade and adorned with tasteful artwork that exuded understated elegance. A large, plush bed dominated the centre of the room, draped in luxurious linens that begged to be touched. There was a sitting area near the window, complete with a cosy armchair and a small table that seemed perfect for late-night reading or studying. The closet was massive, more than enough to fit the few belongings I had brought with me, and it was flanked by a beautiful vanity that looked like it belonged in a Hollywood dressing room. It was all too much, and yet I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it all.

"This will be your room from now on," Sarah said with a smile, clearly pleased by my reaction. "Mine is just opposite this one, so it will be easier for you to get hold of me when you need something. Make yourself comfortable." With that, she left me alone to take it all in. I stood there for a moment, just breathing, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that this was now my reality. It felt surreal, like I had stepped into someone else’s life, someone far more privileged than I could ever imagine being. Slowly, I began to explore the room, running my fingers over the furniture, opening drawers, and peeking into the closet. Everything was immaculate as if it had been prepared just for me. The thought was overwhelming, and I could feel a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. How was I supposed to live in a place like this? How could I ever feel at home in a world so different from my own?

I decided to start by unpacking my things, hoping the mundane task would help ground me. I opened my suitcase and began to hang my clothes in the closet, placing my toiletries on the vanity and stashing away my few personal items in the drawers. As I worked, I tried to remind myself that this was temporary and that I didn’t have to get used to it. I could just take it day by day, adjusting as best as I could. But the truth was, even as I tried to focus on the task at hand, my mind kept racing, struggling to keep up with everything that had happened in such a short amount of time.

"Miss Brianna, do you need help with anything?" The sudden voice made me jump, my heart skipping a beat as I spun around to see a woman standing in the doorway. I hadn’t heard her approach, and for a moment, I just stared at her, trying to process what she had said. She was dressed in a neat uniform, her expression polite but warm, and I could tell from the way she carried herself that she was used to being in this kind of environment.

"No. Who are you?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, my curiosity getting the better of me. I wasn’t used to having strangers in my space, especially not ones who seemed to know more about my situation than I did.

"Sorry for startling you," she replied with a gentle smile. "I’m Kate, your new maid." My new what? The words echoed in my mind, making me feel like I had just stepped into an alternate universe. A maid? For me? I could hardly believe it.

Before I could say anything, Sarah reappeared, her presence filling the room with her usual energy. "Kate will be helping you with everything you need. Let her sort your things. Our lunch is ready, come on." She didn’t give me a chance to argue or even to fully process what was happening. Instead, she took me by the hand and practically dragged me to the dining room, where an already set table awaited us. The scent of delicious food filled the air, making my stomach rumble in response, but I was still too overwhelmed to fully appreciate it.

"During the week, Kate and Amanda help me with the chores, but I like to be alone during the weekends," Sarah explained as we sat down. "I decided to give Kate to you, and you don’t have to worry, she’s a wonderful person." Her words were meant to reassure me, but instead, they only added to the mounting sense of unease I was feeling. I wasn’t worried about Kate not being a wonderful person—far from it. She seemed kind and capable, exactly the kind of person you’d want to have around if you were living in a place like this. But that was just it—this was all so new to me, so far removed from anything I had ever known. It was too much, too fast, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to handle it all.

I tried to focus on the meal in front of me, but my thoughts kept drifting back to everything that had happened since I met Sarah. In the span of a few hours, my life had been turned upside down, and I found myself living in a penthouse, rent-free, with a personal maid and a new best friend who seemed to have everything I had ever dreamed of and more. It was overwhelming, to say the least, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I would ever be able to adjust to this new reality.

It felt like I was living someone else’s life, like I had been plucked from my own world and dropped into a fairy tale where everything was perfect but nothing felt real. And as much as I wanted to be grateful, to just accept this unexpected twist of fate, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that this was all too much for me to handle.

"Look, I know it’s soon, but I don’t think there’s a perfect time for friends to share everything. I know we only met today, but I know it in my heart that you and I will be the best of friends." Sarah’s voice was soft, sincere, and despite the overwhelming situation I found myself in, there was something so genuine about the way she spoke that it almost put me at ease. Almost.

I could see the anticipation in her eyes, the eagerness of someone who rarely let others into her world but was taking a leap by doing so with me. It wasn’t the extravagance of her lifestyle that made this overwhelming—it was how quickly everything was happening. There was no easing into this. One minute I was the new girl, thinking I would be standing awkwardly in the hallway at school for weeks if not forever, and the next, I was sitting at a table in a penthouse, eating food that tasted like it was made for royalty, with a girl who seemed determined to make me feel like part of her life.

“If you feel like it’s too much, just tell me,” she continued, her tone light but her words heavy with sincerity. “But can you promise me that you’ll at least try to adjust? I won’t force you into accepting something you’re uncomfortable with. That’s the last thing I want.” There was something refreshing about how she spoke, something I wasn’t used to. She wasn’t condescending or treating me like a charity case, which was my initial fear when she first invited me to stay with her.

Instead, she was offering me something I hadn’t expected—choice. She wasn’t asking me to conform to her world, but rather inviting me to find my own place in it, at my own pace. That meant something to me. It made me feel like this wasn’t just a temporary arrangement born out of convenience, but the beginning of something more—something real. The question was whether I could handle it.

I took a deep breath, letting her words sink in as I contemplated my response. This was all new to me, but then again, I had always wanted to experience new things, to step out of my comfort zone. Maybe this was my chance. Maybe this was the universe’s way of giving me exactly what I had always silently hoped for—an adventure, a new beginning. "Alright," I said after a long pause, my voice quieter than I intended. "I promise. I’ll try." I offered her a small smile, hesitant but genuine, and she immediately returned it with a grin so wide that it made me feel like I had just made the most important decision of my life. Maybe I had.

We fell into a comfortable silence after that, the air between us somehow lighter now that everything was out in the open. The tension that had been building inside me all day seemed to ease slightly, and for the first time since stepping into this unfamiliar world, I felt like maybe I could handle it. Maybe I could find a way to make this work. As we ate, I couldn’t help but be struck by how good the food was. Every bite was bursting with flavor, each dish seemingly crafted with care and precision that made my taste buds dance. I had grown up eating my mother’s home-cooked meals, and while they were comforting and delicious in their own right, this was on an entirely different level. It was the kind of food you’d expect to find in a five-star restaurant, not on a dining table in someone’s home—well, penthouse. It made me wonder what kind of life Sarah had been living all this time, and how different it must have been from mine.

I couldn’t help but compare it to my own upbringing. My mom was the kind of woman who could turn simple ingredients into magic, who cooked not because she had to, but because she wanted to, because she believed that food was a way to bring people together. And it did, for us at least. Every meal was a small celebration in our house, a chance to catch up on each other’s day, to laugh and share stories. But as amazing as my mother’s cooking was, I had to admit that this—this was something else entirely. The richness of the flavors, the careful balance of spices and textures, the way each dish seemed to complement the next—it was the kind of meal you didn’t forget.

Sorry, Mom. You’re still the best mother though, I thought silently as I took another bite, savoring the way the food seemed to melt in my mouth. I couldn’t help but feel a small pang of guilt for even thinking that anything could compare to my mom’s cooking, but it wasn’t about comparison.

It was about experiencing something new, something that I never thought I’d have the chance to try. And wasn’t that what this entire situation was about? New experiences? New opportunities? Maybe it was time I stopped worrying so much and just let myself enjoy this new chapter in my life. After all, how many people got to say they had the chance to live in a penthouse, with gourmet food and a personal maid, no less?