Paradise In Portugal {Cristiano Ronaldo}

2. Madrid, Spain

{Cristiano POV}

"Papai! Where are my shoes!"

A little voice called out to me while I was downstairs. I had been in the kitchen making some soup for Júnior, who was a little sick. I quickly shut off the pot that was boiling and covered it with a lid.

"They're under your bed, Júnior!" I shouted back. I decided to go up, to see what was going on. I walked down the hallway and entered his room. My son was laying flat on the carpet floor, half his body under the bed. I chuckled to myself at the sight.

"Cristiano, o que está fazendo?" I asked, bending down next to him.

Júnior wiggled and squirmed under the bed, until he finally pulled himself out from under and sat up. He looked utterly depressed, like something was bothering him. His shoe.

"I can't find it, pai!" he cried out.

I chuckled and brought him into my arms. "Don't worry about it. We'll look for it later," I told him.

"But I need it, because we're leaving."

"Yes, but first you need to eat. You're still not feeling good."

He sighed and rested his head on my chest.

Cristiano Jr. was my first and only son. I had him when I was 25 years old. His mother and I were really close friends. Sofia and I hung out a lot when I visited Portugal, and even tried dating for a couple weeks. But it didn't work out, so we remained friends.

It wasn't until one night, my coach decided to throw a party for the team after a win against Barcelona. She had just broken up with her most recent ex-boyfriend, so I invited her as my date to get her out of the house. The rest is pretty self-explanatory. Too many drinks, our deep hidden feelings, the sexual frustrations. One thing lead to another, and before we knew it, we both ended up on the same bed that night.

We stopped talking after that night for about two months, until she finally told me she was pregnant. She was devastated and a bit scared. Shit, so was I. I wasn't even ready to be a father, especially with my career and fame. We talked about the many options of how it could ever work out. We tried thinking about being together for the baby, but we weren't great as a couple. We threw in the topic of adoption, but she didn't want the baby to be raised by strangers. But what set me off, was the fact that she opted abortion. I didn't even give her a second to talk about it. I simply said 'no'. I wasn't ready and neither was she, but in no way in hell would I ever had let that happen.

In the end, I told her to carry out the pregnancy, and that I would take full custody of our son. She didn't have to be involved, she didn't have to send money, she didn't even have to see him if she didn't want to. And she agreed. Sofia was a strong person, but I knew her capabilities, and raising a child wasn't one of them. Eventually, our son was born and we both agreed to name him after me.

In her words: "If it's anything I want, I want our son to become the man you are."

And then a week later, I took Júnior with me back to Madrid.

~

My thoughts had been interrupted at a weird smell that was going around the house. I tried getting up to investigate, but Júnior had fallen asleep in my arms. Shit, I thought.

Soon enough, the fire alarm started blaring throughout the house, waking up Júnior.

"Papai! What's going on?" he cried out.

Without saying a word, I got up, scooping him into my arms. I felt his hand wrap tightly around my neck, as I rushed downstairs. The living room ceiling had a thick grey cloud that hovered above the room. Cristiano Jr. started coughing loudly from the smoke. I followed the trail, into the kitchen, where a pot had burned and a flame had started on the stove.

Quick thinking, I placed Júnior in the downstairs bathroom, which was clear of any smells or smoke.

"Stay here," I told him, running out the bathroom and closing the door behind me.

I grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall, aiming at the stove and fired away. The flames cleared up as the smoke started to fade away. I opened the windows and the back door to get rid of any debris left over.

"What happened in here!"

I froze when I heard my mother's voice coming from the living room. I turned around, as she brought her hand to her nose and let out a cough.

"I accidently left the stove on," I explained, placing the extinguisher on the table.

"And where's Júnior?" she asked, worriedly.

I walked over to the bathroom door and opened it. "He's in here."

My mother let out a sigh of relief, as she brought him into her arms.

"Cristiano, you have to learn to be more careful. You can't just walk away from a pot like that," she nagged.

"Eu sei, mãe," I sighed.

I was 30 years old, and I was still being nagged by my mother. But I knew it was out of care.

I must have not paid attention to the time span of everything, because I looked at the clock and it read 14:25 (02:25 pm).

"Merda!" I cursed out loud.

"Cristiano!" my mom yelled.

"Sorry, but I'm fucking late!"

I scurried off upstairs and quickly packed my uniform and cleats. I was already 30 minutes late to training and still had stuff to do. Júnior didn't have lunch, nor did we ever find his shoe. I ran into his room and grabbed some toys, and whatever pair of shoes I could find laying around. I rushed downstairs, and grabbed Júnior from my mother's arms. I took off the one pair of Nike sneakers that he had on, and switched it for the ones I grabbed.

"And where do you think you're taking him?" my mom butted in.

"I'm taking him to my training practice," I explained.

My mom shook her head and placed her hands on her hips. She wasn't happy. "He's sick Cris. And you're still going to take him out?"

I was about to answer, when my phone rang. I grabbed it with one hand and placed it on my ear.

"Oi?"

"Cris you're so fucking late. Coach isn't happy. Get your ass here."

Marcelo didn't sound happy either. I knew that when coach wasn't happy, he made everyone else feel upset too.

"Alright, alright. Vou!"

"And don't forget we have that press conference later, no excuses."

When he hung up, I cursed under my breath.

"Are you okay?" my mom asked.

I didn't even bother to respond. I quickly rushed over to the kitchen and made a fast peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I packed it up in a small bag with two little juice bottles. I grabbed his bag off the counter and placed the little brown bag into it, following extra clothes and little snacks for Júnior.

"Cris, you need to relax... calm down. You're too stressed," my mom added on.

"I'm fine mae. Let's go Júnior," I said, reaching my hand over to my son.

"No you're not," she continued. "You need a break."

"I don't have time for a break!"

I might as well have yelled at her from the projection of my voice. I sighed and gave my mom a warm grin.

"I booked a flight to Portugal tonight. You're takin a break," she said.

I sighed, grabbing Júnior, and walked out the door.