C O D E W O R D | neymar jr

XLI

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The inviting scent of freshly prepared food wafted through the air as we stepped into the restaurant. Tables and chairs were meticulously arranged, while attentive staff hurriedly attended to the guests. The clattering of plates and silverware filled my ears as I smoothed out the creases of my dress.

"Ney suggested going out for breakfast," he excitedly woke me up at 8 am, eager to explore the local cuisine beyond the town centre's sole restaurant and my mother's cooking.

"Do we need a table?" Ney asked, his arm draped around me as I held my brother Atticus' hand. I nodded, surveying the bustling room. Surprisingly, most tables were occupied, a departure from the usual emptiness of the place.

"Hello!" Greeted a cheerful hostess as she approached us. "How many in your party?"

"Three," I gestured to our small group. She hastily jotted something down and pointed us towards a cosy booth in the corner. As we settled in, I admired the rustic and wooden decor, with each wall adorned by unique paintings that seemed to tell their own stories.

"What are you planning to order?" Ney interrupted my trance, and I quickly glanced at the menu upon spotting the waiter's approach.

"I'll have the bacon sandwich, and Atticus wants a waffle and orange juice," I replied as the waiter swiftly jotted down our choices on his notepad, his pen scratching the paper like an eager writer. "And a bottle of wine for the table."

The waiter gave a curious nod before departing. "Wine at 9 in the morning?" Ney remarked, and I shrugged nonchalantly. "What's the occasion?"

I paused for a moment, thinking of a suitable excuse. "Atticus recently became the captain of his football team!" I smiled at him, suppressing a grin while lightly pinching his cheek. "So they'll be winning many more games now."

"Really?" Ney inquired. "You know, I could help him get into an academy. I'm sure Venice has one." I bit my lip as he reached for his phone to research. "I can arrange an interview if you want. I might know someone who owes me a favour."

"Really?" Atticus's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Could I become famous like you?" His grin widened as he leaned in, brimming with anticipation.

"Yes! We can set up lessons, and I'll cover the costs," Ney offered, and both Atticus and Ney huddled over his phone, eagerly researching local academies. "And when you're old enough, who knows, you might even play in the World Cup!"

My little brother leapt up in jubilation, his hands reaching for the sky in celebration. I tried to coax him back into his seat, but his joy was uncontrollable, attracting the attention of nearby diners.

"As long as you're better than your sister, you'll get in!" Ney playfully winked at me as I scoffed in mock offence, still attempting to rein in Atticus's exuberance on the cushioned seats. I winced at the sight of his muddy shoes staining the leather.

"If you keep jumping, I'll have to tie you down," I whispered a hint of playfulness in my voice. He promptly plopped back down, and Ney gave me a bemused look. I stuck to my tactic as it successfully prevented Atticus from causing a further commotion in the restaurant.

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After a delightful meal with minimal mishaps, we made our way back home to find my mother tending to the garden. Atticus eagerly dashed toward her, and she scooped him up in a warm embrace. "Mama, I'm going to join an academy!"

"What?" Her smile wavered slightly as she gently set him down.

Atticus nodded enthusiastically. "I want to be famous like Neymar. He's going to help me audition for a spot in a Venice academy!" My mother shot me a stern look, her disappointment evident.

"You're not doing it," she stated firmly, her arms crossed.

"Mama, I can cover the expenses. Money won't be an issue," Neymar interjected, trying to reason with her. She remained resolute, her arms firmly crossed.

"That's not the problem," she reiterated.

"What is it? I'm sure we can find a solution," I said, grasping Atticus and holding him protectively, feeling his tears dampen my fingers.

"No!" Her voice grew sharper. "I can't have you here. This is my house, and that's final."

"Please—"

"No!" she snapped. "I can't have you here. Tomorrow, you need to leave with Neymar."

"What?" I stared at her in disbelief as she turned away, refusing to acknowledge the tension between us. Love and hate mingled in the air, an unspoken language we had mastered. "You must be joking."

"I'll take Atticus to the academy, but..." She released a shaky breath, steadying the water can in her hands. "You can't be here."

"Please..." I pleaded, 

"What's your problem?" I confronted my mother once they were out of earshot. "Attending an academy would only take a few hours a week. Don't be like this."

"Like what?" Her voice trembled with a mix of anger and pain. "Like a woman who doesn't want to lose another child? You left the moment you could, and I won't let another child suffer the same fate!" Her words echoed with anguish. "Look at you now!"

"What's wrong with me now?"

"Oh come on!" She rolled her eyes at me. "What's right with you? You're stuck here with your ex who has a girlfriend, you reject marriages on live TV, and you left me! You left me for no reason, and didn't even bother to tell me you moved across the world to Brazil!"

"Leaving was the best choice for both of us," I sighed, defeated. My mother's expression was a mix of frustration and anguish. "But I came back."

"Really? And where did you go when you lost your fame and fortune? You went to London, not here. You roamed around Europe for ten years and came back here only once."

"As if you would have helped!" I argued, trying to avoid her attempt to be a victim. "For sixteen years, you despised me. Every single minute, you found fault with everything I did. I was trapped in this house. I had to leave."

"I did what was best for you," she shouted. "I put you in an elite private school. I gave you everything you needed to succeed. I tried." Her voice softened, and her hand reached out to wipe away my tears as we both sank down against the worn concrete. "I tried, and I failed..."

Her gaze met mine, and our hearts shared a mutual weariness. The ground beneath us seemed to melt, and I folded my legs into my arms. We sat in silence, a mix of shame, worry, sadness, and perhaps guilt filling the air. Whatever emotions resided in our hearts, they were simply the consequences of our intertwined lives.

Birds fluttered around us, and water trickled from the can's spout. I absentmindedly played with the worn gold bracelet on my wrist, it was now worn out revealing a silver beneath it.

Finally, my mother spoke. "I want you and Neymar out of my house tomorrow."

"What?" I gasped, watching as she rose to her feet, refusing to acknowledge the weight of our strained relationship. "You can't be serious."

"I'll take Atticus to the academy, but..." She released a trembling breath, clutching the water can tightly in her hands. "You can't be here."

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A/N: currently craving my ex in a writing terrible poetry at 2 am kinda way 😭😭😭