Imagine - Neymar

Imagine - Baby

You woke up with a jolt. A sickening feeling was growing in your stomach and you responded to it by slowly sitting up on your bed, cautious not to wake him up. The sun was clearly seeping through the blinds that were still shut. You lurched at the feeling of something forcing its way up your throat and threw the covers away from you, your feet stamping on the tiled floor bursting through the bathroom door and slumped over to the toilet seat, emptying the contents of your stomach.

The taste of bile made you groan and suddenly two hands were gently combing your hair away from your face. “Baby? Are you sick?” You could feel his warmth draw near to you and you leaned back towards his lean chest. His hair was sticking up, eyes tired but alert.

“I don’t know, I feel-” The sensation of something gurgling in your stomach made you lean forward towards the toilet seat once again. He rubbed your back and sighed, not hiding his worry. “You stay in bed today, I’ll stay as well.”

You shook your head with a muffled groan, “No, you can’t. You have an important interview today.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue, indicating that he’d forgotten all about that. “Alright… I’ll just… I’ll call mamae.” You shook your head even more violently at this, “Neymar she has her own stuff to worry about you can’t-”

“Hello mamae?” You slumped your shoulders and half-glared at him while he put a finger up to his mouth, upturned into a grin.

“Mamae… Pode me ajudar?” (Mom, Can you help me?)

“Sim… Kayanna, ela esta doente.” (Yes… Kayanna, she’s feeling sick.)

“Urrmm… Ela estava tão enjoada que vomitou.” (Urrmm… She felt so sick that she vomited.)

By this time you had resigned your fate to him, you were too tired to bother but you did feel really bad that Nadine had to go out of her way to take care of you. You had told him that you didn’t need to be looked after, but he didn’t have any of it, besides, his mother was free today.

“Please rest well while I’m away, okay?” You nodded while fixing his tie and brushing off some dirt on his suit, he was looking mighty fine for the interview today. His hands snake around your waist and pulls you closer to him, his voice carried over by a whisper, “Rest up and tonight we can…” You let out a shy laugh at the intimacies he whispers in your ear, broken by the doorbell ringing.

You greet Nadine at the door, still wearing only Neymar’s old FCB jersey and short shorts. He hugs and kisses his mother exchanges a few words with her and turns to you, kissing you on the forehead and grabs his bag to go to work. As the door closes you sigh and turn to Nadine with an apologetic smile.

“Oh no, no, no dear, don’t give me that look, I’m happy to be here.” She shooes you off and takes the groceries into the kitchen, taking out something in a small rectangular box and holds it up for you to see. “Do this now, my dear.”

It took you ten seconds to register that she was holding a pregnancy test and your jaw drops. “Wh-What? Nadine? You think I’m…?” Nadine gave you a knowing look, wagging the box towards you. “Well its about time Davi gets a sister.” You didn’t know whether to laugh or be overcome by nerves, either way, Nadine’s acceptance of it was reassuring.

"Oh my God." You buried your head in your hands, dropping both of the positive pregnancy tests on the bathroom floor. Tears prickle your eyes as a mix of emotions hit you. The fear of being a mother, the pain of birth, Neymar’s reaction. Neymar. How would you even tell him. You didn’t know if he wanted this at all.

"Kayanna…" the door had been ajar the whole time, Nadine peeks in after hearing your outburst and sees the tears that indicated a positive. All of a sudden the realisation that you’re carrying a life inside of you wakes you up like a cold bucket of water. Your face breaks into disbelief and a slight shocked smile. "I’m gunna be a mother… Nadine… Oh gosh… How-How am I even going to bring this up?"

"You tell him as soon as he gets back dear." It was then that the whole day wait ensued. Nadine talked about how to take care of yourself, what to do to ease morning sickness and back pains and what to be prepared for. You were never before so relieved to have someone like her to turn to. Soon enough the sky turned dark and the front door rattled.

Neymar stepped in and felt a weird atmosphere hanging in the air. His mother and you were on the couch together, just staring at him which him gave him the cue to stare back with confusion, dropping his sports bag on the floor. For a second he had thought he came into the wrong house.

"…Am… Am I in trouble or something?" He looked from you to his mother, who broke into soft laughter. Nadine stood and went to the kitchen giving the two of you some space to talk.

“Querida?” by this time Neymar felt a little worried, what was the mysterious vibe going around in the house? You smiled at him a little with a shrug… “No… You’re not in trouble… Not yet.”

He strode over next to you in a second, “You might have some trouble after nine months though.” You blurted out before even letting him sit beside you on the couch. He stood glued to his spot, his legs unmoving.

"You…" for some reason his mind decided not to connect the dots immediately and you gave him your last push at a clue "Cause you know, it’s not easy taking care of a kid…"

You jumped at the sound of triumph he made and when you looked up he had this huge grin on his face, dancing his victory dance as if he just scored a goal. You laughed heartily at him and got cut off by him pulling you into a big and warm embrace.

“Queridaaaaaa, I love you.” He took your face in his hands and looked right at your eyes, “No, no its not troublesome at all. I’ll take care of you.” His forehead presses against yours, your nose touching. “I promise to make us happy. A happy family. I love you.” His happiness was uncontainable as he let out another laugh, “I promise to take care of us and the little guy.”

"Little guy?" You raised an eyebrow at him as he touched your tummy gently. "Yeah, I think it’s a boy." You threw your head back with a laugh. "Nadine thinks otherwise."

His mother peeks from the kitchen, pointing a batter covered spatula at Neymar.

"I bet the World Cup it’s a girl."