Sophia's POV
It was noon in City B, and the sun hung overhead, casting its reflection on the glass doors and windows of the lecture hall. The room buzzed with a low hum as students exchanged whispers and shuffled papers. Today was just another day at City B University for me. I occupied my usual seat, attempting to concentrate on the lecture, but my thoughts persistently strayed to my father's deteriorating condition.
Ever since my father collapsed in class and fell into a vegetative state, my life has been upended. The mounting medical expenses weigh heavily on my family's finances, seemingly insurmountable. My mother, previously vibrant and smiling, now wears a constant look of concern, overwhelmed by worry. She has attempted to take on additional jobs, but finding employment has proven challenging.
Desperation clouds my mind as I seek ways to save my father. The weight of responsibility bears down on my shoulders, leaving me determined to find a solution and help my family.
During a break in the lecture, my seatmate, Lily, scrolls through a website on her laptop, catching my curiosity. Leaning in, I try to catch a glimpse of what has captivated Lily's attention. My eyes widen as I read the words displayed on the screen—an advertisement for surrogacy.
Noticing my interest, Lily questions, "Are you interested in this? It seems to pay well."
Intrigued, I move closer, eager to learn more. "How do you know about it?"
Lily chuckles, a glint in her eyes. "I've come across the ad a few times. Perhaps they're being selective and haven't found the right candidate." She gives me a knowing look. "Are you considering something like this? You've never shown interest in faculty parties..."
Caught off guard, I cough, embarrassed and mortified that I have even considered it as an option. I force a small smile and deny, "Oh, I'm just curious about it."
As the lecture resumes, I redirect my focus, disregarding the suspicious glance Lily gives me. Yet, an ember of hope ignites within me. Surrogacy, the act of carrying a child for someone else in exchange for a substantial fee, appears to offer a potential solution to my problems. It could provide immediate financial relief, considering the sums mentioned in the advertisement.
That evening, I return home and settle into my room. With a racing heart, I open my laptop and begin researching the surrogacy program I came across earlier. The website contains detailed information, which I absorb meticulously. It becomes evident that the surrogate selection process is thorough and professional.
My eyes widen as I read through the application questions I would have to answer. They delve into personal details, with an emphasis on physical attributes. Questions like "Do you have abundant hair?" and "When was your last sexual encounter?" are among the inquiries that will determine my eligibility. The intimate nature of these questions makes me blush, but I understand the necessity for such scrutiny to ensure a successful surrogacy arrangement.
As I review the requirements, my fingers tremble nervously. The prospect of becoming a surrogate leads me into uncharted territory, both intriguing and unnerving. It feels like a clandestine secret I can't share with my family or friends. I have always been a highly educated student with a strong sense of self-esteem, and the idea of engaging in such an unconventional endeavor stirs a mix of emotions within me.
Lost in my thoughts, I don't notice my two roommates, Jake and Tyler, entering my room. Startled, I swiftly close my laptop, hoping they haven't glimpsed what I have been researching. However, they can't resist teasing me.
"Sophia, what are you watching? Some rated-18 stuff?" Jake smirks mischievously, waggling his eyebrows.
Tyler chimes in, "Yeah, Sophia, we need to know if you're getting any action in here!"
Blushing furiously, I scold them, "Can't you guys give me some privacy? I'm just researching something important."
Jake, the younger of the two brothers, playfully nudges Tyler and declares, "Alright, alright. Leave her be. But hey, Sophia, while you're out, could you grab some condoms for me?"
Tyler's eyes widen in disbelief at his brother's audacity. "Jake, seriously? Stop bothering her."
With a laugh, Jake replies, "Hey, I'm just preparing for all possibilities. You never know when I might need them."
As the brothers banter back and forth, I can't help but smile at their antics as I watch them leave the room. They have been my roommates for a year, and I feel most at ease with them.
When my family faced overwhelming debts, Tyler graciously offered me a place to stay for a nominal fee. Since then, I have resided in the same dorm as them, and although Jake, the younger one, occasionally likes to give me orders, our relationship remains harmonious.
After they leave, I reopen my laptop. I stare at the screen for a moment before resolving to make a decision. The idea seems promising; I could earn enough money to cover the hospital bills and more in one go.
With steely determination, I begin filling out the application form, my hands still trembling. Once completed, I submit it and receive a confirmation that my submission has been received. Now, all I have to do is wait for a response.
Hardly have I settled in when my ringtone suddenly blares at a high volume, startling me to the point of nearly losing my balance. I reach for my phone and, upon seeing the caller's name on the screen, flustered realization hits me—I am late for work.
It's my boss at the store, Mr. Johnson.
Apologizing hurriedly, I answer the call, "I'm so sorry..."
"Get to the store right now!" Mr. Johnson barks almost instantly and abruptly hangs up.
My heart races as I hastily grab my bag and rush out of my dorm room. I know all too well the anger Mr. Johnson can unleash, but today, I can't afford to be any later. The consequences of losing my job would be dire, especially with my father's medical expenses looming over me.
As I arrive at the store, I can sense the tension in the air. Mr. Johnson stands near the entrance, his face flushed with anger. Our eyes meet as I approach, and without wasting a moment, he launches into a tirade.
"Finally, you worthless piece of trash!" Mr. Johnson spits, his voice dripping with venom. "I've had it with your constant tardiness! Do you think I pay you to waltz in whenever you please?"
Embarrassment flushes my cheeks as I apologize, "I'm really sorry, Mr. Johnson. It won't happen again. I lost track of time, and I—"
"Save your damn excuses!" he interrupts, his voice booming through the store. "You're lucky I even keep you around. But mark my words, one more slip-up and you're out!"
Turning away from me, Mr. Johnson storms back to his office. I release a sigh of relief, grateful that the public humiliation has ended, at least for now.
Determined to prove myself, I quickly compose myself and approach a customer who is browsing the aisles. The woman seems shifty, her eyes darting nervously as she pretends to examine the merchandise. Something about her behavior triggers alarm bells in my mind.
"Can I help you find something?" I ask, my tone polite but firm.
The woman glances at me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "No, I'm just looking around. Mind your own business."
Maintaining my composure, I trust my instincts, sensing that something is amiss. "Of course, but I'm here to assist customers. If you need any help, feel free to ask."
Suddenly, the woman's expression turns aggressive, and she lunges at me, her hand connecting with my cheek in a stinging slap. Pain surges through my face, but I stand my ground, refusing to be intimidated.
Drawn by the commotion, Mr. Johnson rushes over to the scene. Without even listening to my side of the story, he immediately sides with the customer.
"What the hell is going on here? How dare you assault our customers!" Mr. Johnson shouts, his face turning crimson.
I wince, holding my stinging cheek, but my voice remains steady as I try to explain, "Mr. Johnson, she was—"
"I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses!" he bellows, cutting me off. "You're fired! Get your things and get out!"
Disbelief washes over me as I stand there, unable to comprehend what I have just heard. I have been slapped by a thief, and now I am losing my job without any opportunity to defend myself.
"Mr. Johnson, please, just review the CCTV footage. You'll see that I was only trying to—" I plead, my voice trembling.
But Mr. Johnson is already storming away, his back turned to me. "I don't have time for your lies. You're done here!"
My heart sinks as I watch my boss disappear into his office, his decision final. Anger and a sense of injustice well up inside me. It seems as though the world is conspiring against me, heaping on more obstacles just when I need a break.
With tears welling in my eyes, I gather my belongings, my mind filled with a mix of disappointment and frustration. However, as I step out of the store, I receive a notification in my email. It's regarding my surrogacy application.
I have been accepted for the first round!