C O D E W O R D | neymar jr

XXXIV

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6 months later...
Barcelona, Spain

"I'm getting married to the love of my life, and I've never felt happier!" My current fiancée boomed as he spoke on the stage, and I felt the crowd cheer as people congratulated me on the upcoming wedding. "This trophy is for you." He pointed and winked, and I satirically placed my hand along my heart and blew a kiss.

My future husband, Alexander Mendes, is a 32-year-old football player known for his scandalous and assertive personality, both on and off the pitch. He is currently on a five-year contract with Real Madrid and is one of their best investments yet, according to their fans. Has won the Golden Boot twice and is attempting to strive for the Ballon d'Or.

He finished his long-winded and narcissistic speech; his voice was neverending as he thanked everyone for the mediocre trophy he held. I took another sip of my champagne, trying to hide the fact that I wasn't smiling. I couldn't prop my cheeks up any longer, and his speech would continue to resume until the clock struck midnight.

I zoned out, wishing the champagne was sweeter or that the food was more savoury. Nothing was perfect. Nothing has felt right for months. I felt Xander's arm manoeuvre around my shoulder as he sat beside me. I leaned in as he kissed my cheek, and we enjoyed the rest of the event.

"And next we have the award for being an all-around amazing player. His legacy has been fruitful, and his future is promising!" My ears perked up as I watched the surrounding players pray for it to be them. An award that could be given to anyone yet, "Neymar Junior!" It was given to him.

I watched as he stumbled up the stairs, his crutches fumbling against his side. He wore a suit; it looked good on him, as it always did, yet he always opted for something more comfortable. His smile pierced the crowd as everyone applauded him.

"They gave him an award for being injured half the time. It was probably out of pity." Alexander whispered, yet I didn't react; rather, my eyes were focused on the man I hadn't seen in six months. While the lights shined on him, I couldn't help but wish that his eyes would land on me. "Anastasia?"

I snapped out of my trance and instantly responded. "Sorry, I was just... I tripped on my own words: "Well, I mean, that's Neymar!" I laughed slightly, yet his face turned into a look of disgust.

"We'll talk about this when we get home." I felt my stomach drop; those words meant another argument, the fifth one this week. He turned away from me, and I did the same. My eyes fell back on Neymar, but for a split second, I felt his on mine.

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"I can't believe you're not over him!" He screamed, slamming his hands against the cabinet, a slight crack appearing against the wooden pattern. "You're with me! Not him."

"I am over him; I just hadn't seen him for a while, and I guess I was curious!" I debated, attempting to diffuse the situation as I unclipped my heels. "I wouldn't be with you if I wanted him."

"You're not! You're not over him, and you need to accept it because I'm tired of looking stupid!" He argued, his voice booming around the house. "You told me he wouldn't be a problem when we got together; do I have to be worried?"

"No!"

"No?"

"No."

"So if he decided to get back together, you'd say no?" He asked, and I stayed silent. I pondered the question long enough for him to notice the thoughts destroying my mind. "You shouldn't even have to think about that, Anastasia!"

"I'd say no!" I answered, my voice strained. "I think, I don't know, okay, but I know that won't happen, so you have nothing to worry about!"

"You think?" He took a breath, slightly short, as he grabbed his wallet and keys. Handing them both to me. "Get out of my house. You can come back when you've made your decision." I hesitated, yet he shoved them into my hands, his 6'2 body towering over me. "Get a motel, buy an apartment, buy a house; I don't care; just get out."

So I did. I took his Mercedes and drove. The exterior of his Mercedes has been washed away in droplets of sadness, yet my tears fell faster than the rain. My tears ran faster than a cheetah across an empty field.

I parked in a car park in the middle of nowhere, attempting to recover before I drove again, planning to sleep in whatever hotel I found. The outside was dark; nothing apart from the street lights revealed what hid in the darkness of Spain.

I attempted to calm down by scrolling through my phone and finding a video of me speaking about how I and my fiancée met. Great.

The sound burst out of my phone as I digested the content. "He just texted me after he found out about my separation from my ex. He said everything I wanted to hear, and bam, I was on a plane to Barcelona!" I grinned, my arm wrapped around Luis. We shared a look, yet it wasn't a look that showed love but rather a love for power.

After rejuvenating myself, I ensured it was safe enough to drive again. My foot slammed the pedal, and I sped across the Spanish motorway, with the thunder singing around me as I swerved through the cars.

My foot slipped, or perhaps I turned at the wrong moment, or maybe it was on purpose, but I felt my body fling around the car before losing consciousness.

Nothing but the screams of bystanders and the swerving of other cars could be heard as I lay lifeless on the cold road.

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A/N: at this point don't ask me what's going on, I've got 23 exams to do soon so this chapter is an accurate depiction of stress tbh 😭