Going to Paris wasn't exactly my main priority for this vacation. I just wanted to stay in Canada and just be alone for some time. I was frustrated at the fact that my parents practically forced me to go.
"It's time you do some soul-searching Tristan...especially after Isabella-"
"Fine, I'll go," I'd muttered frustrated and upset.
They didn't have to bring Isabella up for everything I did or didn't do. It was my life and I had control of it but this time, I couldn't help but go along with what they had planned for me.
So here I was, sitting on a plane from Quebec to Paris. Being from this part of Canada, lots of people thought I know French but really, I have no clue how to talk. I can understand what others say but I don't know how to talk back to them. So my time in Paris was going to be quite puzzling as to my poor communication levels. And I had no idea what to do in Paris. For now, I'd made up my mind just to book a hotel room and stay inside the whole vacation.
"Au bout de dix minutes, nous sera d'atterrissage dans la ville de Paris. Nous espérons que vous avez apprécié votre vol avec Lufthansa."
In ten minutes I was going to be in the city of 'love', as people refer to Paris as. But really, who was there to love in my life now?