Love under the shadow of power/ Kylian Mbappé

Charapter6: Rabecca

just as I'm about to call my dad to clarify things with Mom, the man who drove us to the hotel interrupts, "We've arrived, guys." I get out of the car, ready to face whatever comes next.

The moment I see Laurin, I notice her nervousness her hands are shaking slightly. I reach out and take her hand, trying to offer some comfort. "We'll manage," I reassure her.

But as we stand in front of the hotel, everything changes. The man turns to us and announces, "Only Laurin is allowed inside. We two have to stay outside." I'm stunned. "What does that mean?" I ask, feeling a surge of panic.

He looks at me with an edge of irritation. "Why are you getting involved? Let them sort this out privately.

Me as his cousin are not even going so what you think of yourself?"

Laurin, trying to keep things from escalating further, says, "It's fine, I can handle this on my own." I hold her hand tightly, look into her eyes with concern, and say, 'Listen, if anything goes wrong or you feel uncertain, remember you have my number. Please, don't hesitate to call me. I'll do everything I can to help you.'"she nods and I watch how she heads into a room. My mind is racing with thoughts of what might be waiting for her inside.

Suddenly, the man taps me on the shoulder. I startle, and he chuckles at my reaction. "Are you serious?" I ask, my frustration evident. He grins and replies, "Calm down, it's not that deep. Did you really want to meet my cousin so badly?"

"What are you talking about?" I snap back. "Who wants to meet your cousin? If I wanted to meet him, there are many other ways to do it. Besides, who cares about a player who was just lucky enough to be in the squad? To be honest, I'm not a huge football fan, but I watch games often because of my family. We mostly follow big events like the Champions League, Euro, World Cup, and games between major teams. I'm not a fan of Real Madrid, but I support Mbappé because he's my favorite player. My favorite team is RB Leipzig. Their style of play helped me through difficult times when I was battling depression."

"Let me guess your favorite player," he says with a grin. "Xavi Simons?"

"Actually, I like them all pretty much the same," I answer, "but I do prefer Benjamin Šeško a little more. His style of play is simply impressive."

"Good for you," he says, shrugging. "Let's just get in the car. I can't stand here all day."

"Yeah, you're right," I agree. "But aren't you worried that the paparazzi might spot us together?"

He bursts out laughing. "Why are you laughing? I'm serious."

He opens the car door for me, and I thank him. "No problem," he says with a grin. "Do I really look like a football star?"

"No," I answer, "but maybe you could use your cousin's image to your advantage."

The man looks at me with a strange look and I wonder what that means. "Why are you looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong?" I ask him uncertainly.

"I mean, his dad opened a restaurant, and many football fans visit it every year. I know this because I used to be very interested in football and followed a lot of related news. So don't think I'm obsessed with football stars. I think every football fan starts with a major team or player somehow, right?"

His expression turns thoughtful as he considers my words. "It's just," he begins, "that I'm consciously withdrawing from the public eye. Yes, my family and I are of course proud of my cousin, but that doesn't mean we're taking advantage of his image. We support each other, as a family does. We share our plans for the future and help each other where we can."

"I'm Mamadou, 25 years old. Nice to meet you."

He adds: "I'm currently in my last semester of law school. And you?"

"I'm Inaya, 18 years old, and I come from Mali," I answer. "I want to become a laboratory technician and then work in a hospital."

"That sounds exciting," he says.

Just as we continue talking, our conversation is interrupted by a sudden noise: my phone rings. I look at the screen and see that it's my father. A brief moment of confusion overcomes me and I hastily apologize to Mamadou.

"Excuse me, I have to take this for a moment," I say and take my phone out of my pocket. "I'll be right back."

Mamadou nods understandingly as I take my phone and move away from him a little to have the conversation with my father.

Before I even have the chance to greet my father, I suddenly hear a woman's voice on the other end of the line. "Hello, who is it?" she asks, her voice sounding thoughtful. I take a deep breath to hide my nervousness and say: "Hello Rebecca, this is Inaya. Is my father here?"

Rebecca answers thoughtfully: "Unfortunately, he just went shopping. What would you like to tell him?"

Skeptical and a little annoyed, I reply: "It's none of your business. It's a family matter."

Rebecca asks: "Aren't I your family? You can tell me everything that's going on and I'll tell him."

Angry and vulnerable, I reply: "You shameless woman! You seduced my father and now you're trying to impress me? I just want to know what you want from him. He could give birth to you, my older brother is even five years older than you. Aren't you ashamed of getting involved with a man like him? No wonder your two husbands left you. You should know that my father is like a playboy, but what do you care? All you want is his money!"

Rebecca answers in a crying voice that shows pain and frustration: "Please tell me, what should I have done? Did I have any other choice than your dad? Yes, you are right, my ex-partners left me earlier and I guess it's my fault because I fell in love. Your father said I married two young men for love and they hurt me. He suggested that I marry him and I asked him if his wife and children would agree. He said it would be absolutely no problem."

Rebecca continues, her voice growing increasingly desperate: "My first husband left me after just one month because it has become a trend for them to get divorced. Nobody stops men because they have the right to leave us. If we want to divorce, our family will be blamed for everything and we will have to go back. Nobody asks us the truth."

"My second husband," Rebecca continues, "left me after six months of contact. we had a perfect wedding night. On the morning of our wedding, I found out from neighbors that he had devorced me. 

"Everyone was gossiping about me, and even the children on the street were mocking me. My honor was violated, and everyone blamed me instead of him. It wasn't enough that they treated me poorly; my reputation was ruined, and my family was ashamed. My village gossiped about me, and I never understood the reason for his decision. His relatives said he had had enough of me and I hadn't served him well enough. Not a single person blamed him. My dignity was stripped away, and I became known in the village as 'the girl who was divorced in a single day and night.' The humiliation seemed to define my existence.

With a mixture of anger and disappointment, I asks, "Have you not thought about what would happen to you and your child if my father would die some day? You would lose everything. Maybe your son's inheritance could help you, but that wouldn't last long."

"I will take care of my son," she adds, her voice firm. "You don't have to worry."

I reply, "I'm not worried, but I wonder how many young, naive girls fall for such men. They are taken advantage of by them without realizing it."

Rebecca starts to cry and says, "You would never understand." Before I can say anything else, she hangs up....

Confused and shocked by what I just heard, I stand still for a few moments. The confrontation has left me emotionally exhausted...