‧₊˚:🦢🪽⋅𝜗𝜚𓂃
In the opulent world of Rome's elite, Angel Ambrioso is a vision of perfection-beautiful, kind, and untouchable. With a powerful family, an adoring boyfriend, and the envy of her peers, she seems to have it all. But beneath her flawl...
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Angel Ambrosio woke up slowly, the familiar scent of lavender and vanilla wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. She blinked, momentarily disoriented, before remembering where she was. Her mother's room. Sunlight streamed softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the plush bedding. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand and sat up abruptly. It was already 10 a.m.
Her heart skipped a beat. Had she overslept? She was about to scramble out of bed when the door opened, and her mother entered, carrying a beautifully arranged breakfast tray.
"Good morning, sweetheart," her mother said, her voice gentle and soothing.
"Mom, I think I overslept," Angel said, running a hand through her tangled hair, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her.
Her mother smiled, placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting down beside her. "I turned off your alarm. You needed the rest. I've called the school and told them you're sick today. We're going to have a day just for us."
Angel's initial panic melted away, replaced by a wave of gratitude. "Really? Thank you, Mom. I... I didn't even realize how much I needed this."
Her mother nodded, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind Angel's ear. "I could tell you needed a break. So today, we're going to focus on you. Relax, recharge, and forget about everything else."
Angel smiled, her heart swelling with love for her mother. "That sounds perfect."
Her mother gestured to the tray. "Now, eat your breakfast. You've got your favorite—scrambled eggs and a pink grapefruit."
Angel's eyes brightened at the sight. She loved pink grapefruit, especially when it was this vibrant and juicy. She eagerly dug into the meal, savoring each bite. The eggs were perfectly fluffy, the grapefruit sweet and tangy, just the way she liked it.
As she ate, she and her mother chatted about small things—movies they wanted to watch, the latest gossip in the neighborhood, and plans for the upcoming weekend. It was the kind of light, easy conversation that Angel had missed, a welcome escape from the stress that had been weighing her down.
