ᶠÚᵗᵇᵒˡ Oɴᴇsʜᴏᴛs ⎳⎳

Ney

🛑 FAIR WARNING: Mention of m-preg and tragic death, you've been warned.

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Incoming traffic on my way back home from the cemetery always gives me time to think, and when I think about him, I'm always forced to look back at those days when he was still by my side, fit and fine, and not deceased like he is now- his name barren into history.

Unlike now, he was alive. Spending time with me, as my lawful wife-to-be. I thought that there wasn't anything better that God could've sent from the heavens, until one day. I was back from from hanging out with Pique and Rafa, only to discover a pregnancy stick on our bed, the double lines clearly indicating positive.

I didn't know how to feel. My body, and mind, was in a complete rush of emotions. But that wasn't able to keep me away from searching for Neymar, because he couldn't have just left it there for me to see and share the happiness alone.

He had only come out of the shower when I was finally convinced that Neymar was out of the house. I was beyond happy, once again. I vividly remember of hugging him oh so tightly and poured out all my love into the kisses that I had planted all over his face and neck.

It was only then that I felt the urgent need to marry him, and so, I didn't waste my time any longer. It was only a month before I stood on the podium and waited for my still-pregnant bride to be welcomed into the church with a round of applause and my never ending stare. I just couldn't help it.

And how can I? He was in all his youth- only the age of 19 when we had gotten married. So skinny and so fragile and so vulnerable, that I was never willing to leave his side or let him go anywhere alone.

He was a gift that God had sent, and I couldn't have asked God for more- But I would've, only if I knew what lay ahead of my path.

Midway through our marriage, our babies, Thiago and Davi, were born. And I was prepared to take the responsibility of a father, and to raise them properly, with Ney by my side.

But the thoughts of me and Neymar's future were shattered 5 years after our marriage, which was to come to and end, and so was his life.

I can still recall of his head against the car's bloodied window, and his eyes closed. Not closed to a temporary sleep, but to a permanent sleep. I felt shattered. I couldn't hold myself up. My body had given in, and my heart sunk into an abyss with no expected return.

Bloody hell, I couldn't convince myself of his death, how could I convince our children? For God's sake, they were only 5 back then.

But I didn't have to tell them. They realized, my team-mates had helped out. Pique, Rafa, Dani, Luis. So I wasn't left with the job of that anymore.

They would stay over for weekends to spend time with my kids and make them forget about the nightmare that had entered their life a few months back. And although my children were coping well with their mother's death, I wasn't, at all. And I was, and still am aware of the fact that I'll never be able to recover from it, ever.

At least not in this lifetime.

---

- "Dad?" Thiago called. I switched the TV off and felt the couch dip, turning to see that Davi appeared to be with his brother too. They both looked rather sad, I could tell. But I couldn't tell why.

Davi smiled and pulled out a thick book in his hands from his back. The cover of the book seemed too awfully familiar, and it hurt my head to have forgotten that this is the album that me and Neymar had made by ourselves.

It held all of the beautiful memories from the beginning, til the end. I tried not to cry as I held it in my hand, rubbing my eyes.

- "Will you guide us through the album, please?"