New Rules

My name is Sophia Hernandez, the only daughter of the Hernandez family. If you have lived long enough in America, you probably know what that means already: wealth, power, and reputation that stretches farther than I’ll ever be allowed to go.


My parents are practically a brand. In social circles, their names fall heavily, their influence deeper than rivers. Yet somehow, despite all that glamour and shine, I’ve always felt like the dull shadow standing right behind them, decorative, presentable, but never free.


The strange part? My life was mapped out before I even learned to write my own name.

At eight years old, I was betrothed to Liam Morgan, a boy born somewhere in the United Kingdom, a face I only know through a single photograph my mother gave me back then. An image of a smiling child, frozen in time. That photo has followed me like a ghost for eighteen years, his little-boy grin watching me grow into the woman I am now, still waiting, still wondering.


I’m twenty-six years old. I’ve never been with a man. Not once. Not even a kiss… until last night.


And the irony? I’m not single, yet I’ve been single since birth.

My parents own the rights to my heart, and my life has been curated like a museum exhibit, homeschooling instead of high school, no real friends except those my parents vetted, and a silent countdown to a wedding with a man I have never met.


Well, technically, I met him on paper, in pixels, as an eight-year-old boy trapped in a photograph.


Sometimes, when I look at that picture, I wonder: Who did he become? Is he cold? Is he warm? Does he even remember me? Or am I just another arranged detail in his privileged life?


And then there are the dreams. The last few months, a strange man keeps invading my sleep, an unknown face, unfamiliar hands, moments that feel too intimate, too real to be just dreams.

Sometimes I wake up sweating, my heart racing as though I have been touched for the first time.


I tell myself it must be Liam. Maybe my subconscious already knows him. Or maybe it isn’t him at all. But that question doesn’t stop the heat from spreading through my chest when I think of those dreams.


Oh, and one more thing: last night, in a haze of alcohol and rebellion, I kissed a stranger. My first kiss. Stolen from me? No. I gave it willingly, recklessly, maybe desperately. And I liked it.

she yawned and rubbed her temples, the dull throb of a hangover pulsing through her skull. Her head ached, her eyes stung, and even the thought of standing made her groan.


On the nightstand, a steaming cup of coffee waited beside a folded note.


“I know you must be having a hangover by now, take the coffee and rest. I had to leave early because of my JOB! Kisses. Love, Ava.”


Sophia managed a soft smile. Ava. Always thinking ahead, always looking out for her.


She dragged herself toward the mirror and nearly screamed at the sight of her reflection. Her short black hair stuck out in every direction, her eyeliner smudged into raccoon eyes, and an unflattering trail of drool stained her cheek.


“Wow,” she muttered. “I look homeless.”


Setting the coffee gently on the table, she pulled shorts from her closet and slipped into them. The morning sun spilled through the window, lighting up her apartment with a glow that only reminded her how alive the city outside was. From her window, New York stretched, endlessly cars honking, people rushing to jobs, the rhythm of a world that never waited.


And there she was, in silence.


“Everyone’s busy going to work, and all I do is sit at home and watch TV,” she said sarcastically, arms crossed. “My life is amazing.”


She picked up her phone, scrolling through notifications, when her breath caught.
Missed calls. From her father.


Her pulse raced as she scrolled deeper. And then she saw it, an outgoing call. Not just one. To her mother. Hours long.


“Oh no… no, no, no. Please God, no.” She covered her face. “I called Mom? For that long?”


Her voice cracked in horror. “Why didn’t Ava stop me?!”


The sharp ding-dong of the doorbell made her jump.


Her heart leapt. “That must be Ava!”


But when she opened the door, her blood turned to ice.


Mr. and Mrs. Hernandez.


She slammed the door shut in panic, pressing her back against it. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”


Racing to her closet, she pulled on a shirt and forced herself to breathe. Her chest tightened as she plastered on a smile, opening the door once again.


“Hey, Mom! Hey, Dad!”


The cold severity in her mother’s eyes made her stomach drop.


“Sophia Hernandez,” Mrs. Hernandez said, her voice sharp enough to cut.


She froze.


Her parents stepped inside, their expressions a mix of disappointment and silent fury.


“Why are you here so early?” Sophia asked nervously, laughter spilling out like a defense mechanism.


“Where were you yesterday?” her father demanded.


“Home?” she lied, the smile clinging desperately to her lips.


“Don’t even try,” he snapped. “You called your mother, drunk, from a party. With Ava. Did you go with a man?”


“No, Dad! No, I didn’t…”


“I am disappointed in you,” her mother cut in, her voice trembling with anger. “Why now, Sophia? Your marriage to Liam is so close. What would I tell the Morgans if they had seen you? What if word spread?”


“Mom, no one saw me!” Sophia protested.


“You’ve waited eighteen years, keeping yourself pure,” her father scolded. “And now you risk it all? For what? Parties and boys?”


Something inside her snapped.


“Enough!” she shouted, her voice startling even herself.


The room went silent. Her parents stared, stunned. Sophia had never raised her voice at them before.


“I went out with Ava, okay? Just Ava. Yes, I got drunk. But I’m twenty-six years old, not a child! Stop treating me like I’m still seventeen. Stop trying to control every breath I take!”


“Sophia”, her mother started.


“No!” Sophia’s voice shook, but her anger carried it forward. “You’ve trapped me in a bottle my whole life, and you spin me around however you want. I don’t get to choose anything, not what I do, not who I meet, not even who I marry. Do you know what that feels like?”


Her parents exchanged a glance, but she pressed on.


“Well, guess what? I kissed someone last night. A stranger. My first kiss. And I liked it. Because for once in my twenty-six years, I did something by choice. Mine. Not yours.”


The silence was unbearable.


Her father shook his head, disappointment etched into every line of his face. “You’ve failed me, Sophia.”

He stormed out, the door slamming behind him.


Her mother lingered. For a fleeting second, there was softness in her eyes, but her words were iron.


“You’re getting married to Liam. That’s final.”


The door closed, and Sophia collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in her hands.

“Why did I just say that?” she whispered. “Oh, my big, stupid mouth…”


Later that afternoon, dressed in white joggers and a black tee, Sophia stepped out to the supermarket. She told herself she needed groceries, but in truth, she needed to breathe outside her parents’ shadow.


She picked items halfheartedly, her mind replaying the confrontation in endless loops.


“Hey, Sophia!” the cashier, Bridget, greeted warmly. “You’re glowing today.”


Sophia forced a smile. “Thanks, Bridget. You look beautiful too.”


Bridget scanned the items and reached for the card Sophia handed her. The machine beeped.


“Declined.”


Sophia blinked. “What?”


“I’ll try again,” Bridget said quickly. She did. Once. Twice. Three times. Same result.


Panic clawed at Sophia’s chest. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh God… what have they done?”


“Do you have another card?” Bridget asked gently.


Before she could answer, a man behind her groaned impatiently. “Move aside if you can’t pay.”


Sophia turned, her temper snapping like dry wood. “Keep your hands off me, old man. I’ll move when I’m done.”


Snatching her phone, she stepped aside, dialing furiously.

“AVA. HELP. NOW.”


Minutes later, Ava rushed into the supermarket, spotting her sulking on a chair.


“They deactivated my card”, Sophia muttered, frustration boiling beneath her skin. “Please, just pay for me”.


Ava handed her card, smirking as they carried the bags outside.


“It is not funny”, Sophia snapped when Ava burst into laughter.


But her phone buzzed again. Her father’s voice on the other end was cold. “You are twenty six right? Well time to earn your own money, get a job, like a normal adult”.


Click.


Her hands trembled as she dialed her mother, “Mom, please”.


Her mother’s voice was firm, unyielding. “Your father’s right. Earn your way. When it is time for Liam, we will let you know”.


The line went dead.


Sophia stood frozen on the sidewalk, groceries dangling from her arms, the city blurring around her.


For the first time in her life, she realized she was truly on her own.


“What am I supposed to do now?”, she whispered to Ava.


And though, the question was meant for her friend, the truth was clear, no one had an answer. 
Freedom had arrived, but it didn’t feel like freedom at all.