𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 | english adaptation

𝐈

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𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗋

I WAS AWAKENED by the noise of my mother moving things around as if she was looking for something.

Despite that I closed my eyes again, until the door to my room burst open, letting me know that I would not sleep again until nightfall.

—Sophia! Wake up, it's already seven o'clock!— my mother shouted, entering the room.

She began her routine; opening curtains and windows outrageously.

—Please ten more minutes— I mumbled, slurring my words.

—I told you to get up!— she gave a long sigh —It's late and we have to put everything in its place, we are not going to live in the middle of the boxes. 

I moved into the star position and raised my left thumb.

—Brush your teeth and take down the garbage, I told you yesterday and you haven't listened to me— then she left the room leaving me alone and without closing the door. Frustrating.

Monday morning, mom is hysterical because it's her first day at work in her new office and you'd better obey her so as not to upset her, or else there wouldn't be dinner.

I brushed my teeth and headed to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out the bottle of milk. 

—I told you to throw out the trash!— she exclaimed looking for her purse among the boxes.

—Going...— I responded by pulling out a bold.

I heard the sound of my phone notifications, followed by the personalized ringtone for a certain girl, so without thinking I ran for it, big mistake.

—Sophia Reachel Bellemoor, you take out the garbage right now or I'll throw that fucking phone out the window!— she threatened as soon as I returned to the kitchen.

Reachel, my middle name. She only uses it in cases where she's very angry and doesn't joke around. 

The last time she used it and I didn't take it seriously, my laptop ended up in the trash can, with a completely white screen. 

—Okay, okay.

I took the garbage bag, knotted it, and with some difficulty carried it towards the already open door courtesy of Gema Bellemoor.

𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋

Sophia entered the elevator and dialed the number zero, then leaned against one of the elevator walls and pulled her phone out of her pajama pants pocket. 

She started checking her social networks, answering messages... until she noticed the elevator doors opening. 

She looked up slightly and saw that she stood on the nineteenth floor just one floor below her own. 

A boy got on and Bellemoor quickly looked down at her phone again, as the last thing she wanted to do was socialize while carrying a bag of garbage and in her pajamas. 

—It's rude not to greet people, you know?— commented the boy.

—Yes, hi sorry...— she answered without paying much attention to him.

—Are you new? I've never seen you around.

—Yes... we moved in three weeks ago. 

She slowly looked up, transfixed by who was standing in front of her. 

—What's wrong, is there something in my hair?— he brought both hands to it, feeling it.

—Are you Aidan Gallagher?— she paused and continued —And if not, you look just like him. 

Shopy opted more for the second option. 

What would someone with such social status do in a random building? 

—I don't know. That's what it says on my ID, but I'm not sure about it— he started laughing. 

The girl went from calm to tense. Her idol was in front of her, while she was carrying a bag full of garbage and still dressed in her pajamas, not just any pajamas, but one with bears and hearts, which had been given to her last Christmas by her grandmother. 

—And your name is?

—I'm Sophia Bellemoor, pleased to meet you— she answered excited to know that it was indeed the celebrity.

—Well, nice to meet you, Sophia, I would introduce myself, but I see you already know me.

The doors opened and the boy came out bowing. 

[...]

𝗌𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖺 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗋

I don't know if it's some kind of joke, but knowing or thinking that a celebrity lives in the same building as you is fascinating. 

I leaned on the railing below the mirror so that I could stand up and calm my breathing, agitated by the emotion of the moment. 

—Thanks, mom... This year I'll buy you something for Mother's Day— I said to myself in a whisper.

I took three deep breaths and bent down to pick up the bag from the floor. 

I stepped out of the elevator and made my way to the exit of the building where a man in uniform was standing; the doorman, holding the door. 

We both gave each other a friendly smile and nodded in greeting.

I continued on my way until I reached the door and just as I was walking out, the bag caught on one of the fasteners holding one of the glass doors statically, breaking and dropping all the debris to the floor.

Quickly the discomfort and embarrassment took over my body. 

I shakily bent down ready to pick it all up. 

—No, no, no. Fuck, no— I looked up at the old man —sorry, sorry— I tried to stuff everything into the broken bag, all to no avail.

—Never mind miss, I'll call the cleaning service... you can go back to your apartment, don't worry— he answered smiling. 

I stood up so I could shake out my pajama pants and hands. 

—Thanks, thank you very much. 

I smiled nervously and ran straight to the elevator.