𝐨𝐧𝐞

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neymar told himself that he would stop.

he told himself that last time would be the last time.

but yet, here he is again, laying in the bed of a woman that is not his girlfriend. a woman that he has absolutely no business being with.

his eyebrows pull together frustratedly as he lies awake, staring up at the ceiling, his mind troubled as the pleasure of the love-making they just did is now replaced with utter guilt.

the love of his life is waiting for him back home, it dawns on him.

she is sitting alone in their ridiculously large mansion, probably wondering where the hell he is, which is why he finally works up the strength to rise from this bed and drive home to the woman he has been with for almost three years now.

swinging his legs over the side of the bed, neymar swiftly rises from under the silk sheets. he's throwing his dior hoodie over his head when his mistress' honey-dipped voice pulls him out from his thoughts.

"ney?"

he purposely doesn't respond as he reaches for his pants.

"what're you doing?" the young woman asks, frowning. she props her head on her hand, resting her weight upon her elbow as she stares at the side of neymar's face.

"i have to go," he mutters plainly, sitting down to pull on his pants.

"babe, it's like..." she brushes a curtain of blonde hair from her eyes, adjusting the covers over her naked body as she glances at the clock on her bedside table. "it's two am," her lips pucker out into a small pout as she yawns. "get back in bed, you don't have to leave right now."

"no, i have to go now, aspen." neymar replies irritably, huffing at the fact that he can't get his feet in the sleeves of his pants quick enough. "i shouldn't have come here."

the last time he was over here was supposed to be the last time with her. it wasn't his intention to spend another night with this girl, just like how it wasn't his intention to even start what he did with her that night at the club.

it was at the beginning of summer, in may, when neymar first met aspen at his favourite nightclub in paris.

he was only there to celebrate his champions league win with his friends when suddenly this girl adorning a little black dress boldly approached him. he didn't refuse her company, and they had danced the night away in the club's vip section, with them waking up tangled in her sheets the following morning.

it went on for months, this thing between them. this affair. they would meet at hotels that neymar would pay for and he would drive a different car each time to try and deceive any lurking paparazzi. but as time went on, he became reckless, finding himself meeting with her in broad daylight — not thinking about the consequences of what would happen if she found out.

this she being amirah, the woman he got on one knee and proposed to last year.

that was a pointless gesture, clearly, because here he is, breaking every single promise he ever made to her.

"okay, but what's the rush?" aspen looks so confused, eyebrows furrowed. "amirah isn't..." she trails off, realisation hitting as a scowl carves on her face. "i thought you broke up with her?"

"you assumed i did," neymar sighs, finally bringing his pants up to his waist. "one fight doesn't mean we've broken up."

"so, what then?" she scoffs, "you're going back to that bitch now?"

"watch it," the footballer warns, "don't call her out her name."

aspen rolls her eyes, sitting up to lean against the headboard as she watches neymar grab his phone and car keys.

"well, when are you ending things with her then?"

a cold, sarcastic laugh rings through the quiet bedroom. "when am i ending things with her?" neymar raises a brow, looking at the blonde incredulously. "for what? for you?"

"i mean–" aspen falters, a crease forming between her brows as she frowns. "you want to be with me, don't you?"

"no, aspen," neymar asserts, voice clipping in annoyance. they've had this conversation far too many times. "this shit is just sex, nothing more."

when the psg forward took the chance of getting involved with aspen, it was supposed to be all fun and games, nothing more and nothing less. he didn't have time to talk about feelings or whatever sentimental shit with her, that wasn't what this was about.

aspen was nothing more than a body for him to use whenever he felt like it, and she knew it too as that had been their agreement from the very beginning.

"we'll never be anything more than what we are now."

"but–" pain clouds within the girl's irises, "i love you, neymar." she voices softly, "and i just... i don't want us to sneak around anymore."

"aspen, i can't do this with you right now." the footballer mutters, running his hand down his face. "i need to go."

"why can't you just give us a chance?" the desperation in her tone doesn't go unnoticed. "i mean, you spend most of your nights here with me, so you clearly don't love amirah."

"bye, aspen."

"neymar, can you listen for like two minutes?" aspen sighs, but he's already turning around and leaving the bedroom.

ignoring the calls of his name, neymar hurries to the front door of the cozy apartment, twisting it open before slamming it behind him.

his thoughts are raging as he makes his way to the parking lot, his hands shoved in his pockets.

he's beating himself up, because how dare he do this to amirah, the only woman who stood by him when the going got too tough? when the world rallied against him and downplayed his talent, when he was judged and crucified by millions of people, who was there for him?

amirah was.

and now this is how he chooses to repay her? by cheating on her with some random female he met at a club?

"shit," neymar hisses when he finally gets inside his car, seeing how it was nearing three o'clock.

shaking his head, he sighs to himself, starting the ignition. he's definitely not looking forward to the argument that will surely ensue when he finally gets home.

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