Chapter Nine: A Desperate Search

The money was running out.

Mia realized it one quiet evening as she sat at her small dining table, a pile of unopened bills stacked in front of her. The savings she'd brought to Everdale — the same money she thought would last long enough for her to get settled — was dwindling faster than she'd anticipated.

Doctor's appointments, prenatal vitamins, healthier groceries — the hidden costs of preparing for a baby were starting to add up.

Her fingers absently traced the corner of a crumpled envelope as a knot tightened in her chest. This wasn't just about her anymore. It wasn't about keeping herself afloat — it was about her child.

She needed a job. And fast.

The next morning, Mia woke up with a new sense of determination. She pulled on the least wrinkled blouse she owned, tied her hair into a loose bun, and forced herself to ignore the faint queasiness still twisting her stomach.

Everdale's town square was small but bustling with life — the bakery overflowing with customers, the florist arranging bright bouquets in the shop window, and Clara's café humming with the morning rush.

Mia spent hours drifting from one place to the next, scanning job boards pinned with handwritten notices and politely inquiring at local shops.

The responses were all the same.

"Sorry, we're not hiring at the moment."

"We just filled the position last week."

"You can leave your résumé, but no promises."

By midday, her feet ached, and her heart felt heavier than ever.

She found herself back at Clara's café, slumping into a corner seat. The scent of coffee didn't make her stomach lurch this time — maybe she was too exhausted to notice.

Clara spotted her immediately, weaving through tables with a practiced grace. "Rough morning?"

Mia gave a tired nod. "I didn't think finding a job in Everdale would be this hard."

Clara leaned against the counter, her smile softening. "Small town means small opportunities." Then, her gaze flicked to the unopened bottle of water and untouched crackers still in Mia's bag. "But that's not the only thing wearing you down, is it?"

Mia froze.

Her heart thudded loudly in her chest.

Clara's voice was gentle — not accusing, not prying — but the words still sliced through the thin veil Mia had desperately tried to keep in place.

"I—" Mia swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table. "I don't know what you mean."

Clara didn't back down. "I'm not blind, Mia." Her voice was quiet enough that no one else could hear. "You're sick almost every morning. You've stopped drinking coffee — which, let's be honest, you used to order religiously. And the way you rest your hand on your stomach when you think no one's watching…"

Mia's breath hitched.

It was like a dam broke inside her.

Tears welled up in her eyes before she could stop them, and she quickly wiped them away, but it was too late.

Clara reached across the table, resting a comforting hand on Mia's arm. "You don't have to tell me everything," she whispered. "But you're not alone in this."

For the first time in weeks, Mia let herself breathe.

Her secret was out — at least to Clara — and surprisingly, it didn't feel like the end of the world.

It felt like a small, unexpected relief.

But even as the weight eased ever so slightly, another fear loomed larger than ever: if Everdale wasn't hiring, how was she supposed to support herself and the baby growing inside her?

And how long could she pretend to have everything under control before her whole life unraveled again?