For Him; Cristiano Ronaldo

Chapter Five

It was finally Monday and I was actually so eager to see him again. But, not today. Junior was unwell and I had to take the day off. The car engine sung to the lone country roads, I relished the roaring winds that twirled in my long blond hair and whistled in my ears. It has been long since I've drove around the streets, without actually being rushed.

We stopped by a café, as I noticed my young child sleeping at the back of the car. He must've been tired from spending hours at the clinic. Maybe, picking up some doughnuts for him would make him feel better.

"Is that all?" the lady at the counter asked.

"Yes, how much will that be?" I asked, fishing out for my purse.

"$10, ma'am," the lady responded.

"Give me one sec-"

"Here you go," a familiar voice was heard from beside me.

As I turned, Cristiano stood before me, handing his money to the cashier.

"No, you didn't have to," I said, insisting that I should pay him back.

"No, keep it. Take it as a treat," he smiled, walking me out of the café.

"Somebody said that you called the day off from the office," he said, turning to face me. He was wearing a grey coat over his blue pullover. His hair couldn't really be seen as he had a hat on but, his smile was still the first thing I noticed immediately, as soon as I looked at him.

"Well, you're right. I did call a day off," I responded.

"What? For doughnuts?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Mama?"

And suddenly, my heart skipped a beat. I've forgotten all about Junior.

I noticed a confused look drawn on Cristiano's face.

"Ronaldo!" Junior yelled, throwing his arms around his favourite football player.

"Isabella?"

"Please... not in front of him," I said, knowing that the Cristiano I know would've start yelling at me at this point. And of course, I deserved every minute of yelling he was about to give me. I was completely at fault for not being honest with him about Junior.

His own son.

I drove us back to my house, where I knew he was waiting for a good explanation. Junior had already fallen asleep on his lap, which was 10 times worse for me. The car ride back to my place was quiet, and awkward. I could see him clenching his jaw in anger but he remained silent.

I carried Junior to his bed and a few minutes later, I walked into the living room where Cristiano was looking at the family photos of Junior and I.

"I guess you weren't going to tell me at all?" he asked, still not turning to look at me.

"Cris-I just, I just didn't think it was the right time or-or at least not now. I-I-didn't think it was necessary at all-"

He turned almost immediately and looked at me with anger in his eyes. My emotions are a part of me, and at this moment, they blend with his in the most delicious of ways. Yet there are times I have storms inside, never because of him, but from the damage, the triggers of my past.

When the frustration builds and I think he might explode - he took a deep breath. He wanted to shout, throw a tantrum and punch the wall beside him. He wanted to vent, let it out, but he didn't want to say words he didn't mean or be hurtful. It's just so easy to be cruel in that moment and then the damage is done. So many times he had wanted to unsay things, take it back.