Sofia Carson Age Novels & Stories

My phone rang—Sofia's name flashing like a rescue signal. "Emily, thank God." Sofia's voice was tight and scared but trying to stay strong. "Please tell me you're seeing this garbage." "I'm seeing it," I said, feeling numb. "Sofia, how did they get those photos? We were careful—" "Doesn't matter how they got them now. What matters is that Carlos is having a news conference in two hours, and every big news company is getting ready to destroy you." Sofia's voice had the sharp sound of someone getting ready to fight. "Get dressed. We're going to war."

He's searching for his long-lost friend. • Sofia Reeds: This eighteen-year-old girl is the adoptive daughter of the Reeds couple. She has a gentle and loving approach towards most people. She's 166 cm tall (5'5 ft) and weighs 46 kg (102 lbs). MBTI type: ESTP. She's polite and respectful to everyone. Sofia easily makes friends and loves to assist Nathan during his dance practice. Favorite color: Cyan. Zodiac: Scorpio. She's fun-loving in nature. The girl always thinks of her actual family and the reasons, they left her behind. She considers Scarlet as her sister rather than a friend. Her short height never stops her from sticking up for her people. Her easy-going smile seems to pull Timothy i

“Lucas got expelled. They caught him with his civil law professor. In her office. On the desk. She is thirty-eight and married to the dean’s brother, Sofi. The scandal is everywhere. My Papá is threatening to cut him off completely if the press connects it to the family name. I am begging you. Let him stay with you for a few weeks. The Marbella house is empty anyway, and you are the only person I trust not to judge him.” Sofia’s heart slammed against her ribs. Lucas. The last time she saw him he was seventeen, all long limbs and shy smiles at Christmas dinner. She still pictured him as the little boy who used to fall asleep on her lap during movie nights, sticky fingers in her hair. But Carm

Mia began, trying to shake the sadness off, “how was camp? I’m sorry I missed the end of it. I couldn't pick you up myself.” Sofia tilted her head, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It was great. But, Mom, you should know. I'm practically a grown-up now. I can travel on my own, you know." Mia blinked, her heart momentarily stalling. “Wait, what?” Sofia burst out laughing, her hands waving in the air as if she were explaining something obvious. “You heard me. I’m thirteen now, Mom. I’m practically a teenager-adult! I can do things by myself.”

The machine beside her hums steady and indifferent, doing the work her kidneys stopped doing. "You look tired," she says. "I'm fine." "Luca." "I'm fine, Mama." She looks at me with squinteed by steady eyes. I look back at her and keep my face easy because that's what I do in this room. I keep it easy and I stay an hour and I don't let her see the number I'm about to hand over at the billing desk. Sofia is in the corner chair with her phone. Twenty two years old, dark hair like mine, earphones in. She pulls one out when she notices me looking.

She looked at me with so much admiration, it made me blush. "Oh my god, you are so pretty!" she squeaked, clasping her hands together. "Look at her hair, Greg! It’s like a shampoo commercial! Are you really okay? I heard you got shot right in the chest! That's so intense! Are you going to have a scar? I bet it’s a cool scar. I’m Sofia, by the way. I’m fourteen, and I already know I’m going to be a world-famous fashion designer." "Sofia, let her breathe," Greg said, stepping forward with a much quieter, shy smile. "Hi, Elena. I'm Greg. Welcome home. Sorry about her, she talks a lot."

Sofia shook her head immediately. “Nope! It’s a surprise,” she said, pouting playfully. “Come on!” Rolex chuckled. That pout again. He had noticed it more than once now. The way she whined. Her pink outfit. Her colorful nails. Her hair styled into two cute buns. Everything about her gave off a soft, playful charm. Cute. Almost too cute. He tilted his head slightly. “How old are you?” he asked carefully. “Sixteen,” she replied, pouting again. “I knew you’d ask.”

I find it ridiculous that I can’t decide on a damn cake topper from the catalog in front of me. “Can I weigh in?” A sweet voice from my side draws my attention from thoughts. Sofia tagged along with me today, and I’m happy to have her with me. She’s a sweet girl who is so naive. Sofia lives in a bubble and she believes in a fairytale that I want to tell her is real. However, she’s young. Freshly eighteen and totally clueless about the real world. Sofia is another example of the women in the mafia world. Sofia is surprisingly thrilled to have a baby, but she also believes it’s her only purpose. It’s upsetting to me because I realize how easily I could have been her if my father was still aliv

She shook her head and replied, "I don't think so. They both moved on, they couldn't be in that house to patch things together." "All right. Tell me more about your parents," I said, leaning forward in my seat. "What was their relationship like?" Sofia's expression softened, and she spoke with a hint of sadness. "They were the perfect couple. They were married immediately after college and when they had us, everything seemed right, until the month after our tenth birthday." She paused after that and said, "I, I'm actually a twin. I have a sister." "Continue." I said.

a voice whispered. I didn't need to turn to know it was Sofia. My youngest daughter, now ten million and ninety-five years old in the way we measured time, walked with a grace that was entirely her own. She was the one who had taken the stories of our pain and woven them into the curriculum of hope that defined the atoll’s education.