C O D E W O R D | neymar jr

XLIV

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São Paula, Brazil

The atmosphere was tense; every touch sent tingles along my skin as the taxi moved along the worn-down road, marked with holes and pivots from extended use. "She's not going to like me," I said, and his face turned into a disappointed yet not dismissive expression. "She already hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," he assured me, but his fingers grazed my shoulder, and I knew he was wrong. My presence would be considered a threat after the damage I had caused to their family. "It'll take time to fix, but it will be worth it in the end."

I gave a confident nod and allowed silence to fill the room, the faint radio noise mocking me as thoughts consumed me. The same woman who had torn apart their family months ago was back, and now I was marrying her son, further complicating the already fragile dynamic.

Perhaps they thought I was jealous; having lost my father and having an unsupportive mother, I felt the need to destroy the idea of a happy family. Or maybe they didn't blame me but hated the idea of me being with their son. Whatever prophecy they believed I fulfilled, I knew my presence in their house would be seen as a curse.

The car abruptly stopped, and the sight of the large building ahead caused a lump in my throat to drop to my stomach. I caught Ney's shirt as he began to exit and gently tugged at him, urging him to stay inside momentarily. "This was a bad idea," I cried. "I can't do it."

My breath quickened as he shut the door behind him and wrapped me in his arms. He started to speak, but the weight of my emotions was shared between us in silence. I wept into his chest, staining his hoodie with tears.

"We don't have to go," he whispered after a few minutes. "We can turn around, take a random flight, get married, and disappear from everyone except each other." He kissed the top of my head as I smiled at the possibilities.

"As much as I can dream about that," I replied, and he tightened his grip. "You deserve to have your parents at your wedding. Besides, you're not the 'running away to an island' kind of guy," I teased.

"I can be anything for you," he admitted as we stepped out of the car with shaky breaths.

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We greeted his mother with a smile, her face dropping as she saw me and my smile fading at her expression. "Neymar, o que ela está fazendo aqui?" She demanded, and my new knowledge of Portuguese caused a tear to drop down my face. (Neymar, what is she doing here?)

"Podemos falar sobre isso dentro?" He responded as she angrily stomped away, and he lugged the suitcases inside. "I'm sorry," He said as we walked down the long hallway, the scent of his favourite food engulfing the air. (Can we talk about this inside?)

We sat at the table, and she shoved a plate on the table as she placed herself opposite us. "Talk!" She commanded, "Talk or I'll call your father."

"Me," He mumbled as he dragged his hand down his face, allowing himself to think for a moment, yet I saw her eyes widen at the large rock on my ring finger. Instantly, I covered it up, but it was too late.

"What did you do?" She shrieked, grabbing my arm and observing the ring. "Did you get her pregnant?"

"Not yet," He mumbled, only to be met with a death stare from his mother. He held back his tongue as he spoke: "No, she's not pregnant! She's my fiancee because I proposed."