For the Love of Football [Fernando Torres]

10

Fernando stretched his stressed and aching body as he climbed out of the sleek black car. He had just gotten home from his last practice with Liverpool. It was emotional, knowing he would never be welcomed at Anfield again and have his name shouted by the adoring fans. He grew up there and enjoyed his life immensely. Now, it was all changing.

Was it a good thing?

He still didn't have the answer for that particular question. 

He stared at his huge house, noticing the cracks, imperfections and groaned as he saw his wife's car. Well, in his mind, it was more like Olalla's car. Even though, they seem like the perfect couple to the rest of the world, only the two of them knew the truth. They haven't been in love for a very long time. He felt the way his marriage looked.

Totally and utterly, tearing by the seams but covered by many bandages so it's not obvious.

He closed his car door, after grabbing his sports bag. He looked at his home and only saw the fights, the shouting, the crying and the farce that his life has become. Beautiful from the outside but slowly cracking and dying around him. The car pulled away and he fortified himself for the fighting he was sure to come. It happened every day and when he told Marietta that his wife hated him, he meant it.

He walked up to his front door, and before he could open it himself, it was wrenched open and standing there were the two loves of his life.

Nora and Leo, holding hands, smiling up at him.

Now, there was his biggest reason for staying in this marriage for so long. He did not want them to become another number in the divorced statistics, where children become troubled and alone. He fell to his knees and brought them close in a hug. Both kissed him on the cheek.

"Daddy, wath a theperation? Mummy didn't tell uth." Nora asked him. 

He stared at her, as he felt his temper rising. He hated that Olalla would even consider talking about this in front of his two angels. They had tried their best not to fight in front of them and it was the only thing they agreed on the last few months.

"Nothing mi amor. I'm going to talk to your mother." He stated his face hard, his voice however soft. 

She nodded, took Leo's hand and they skipped to their playroom in their massive house. They weren't always so serene but they felt the atmosphere in the house and he feared they thought it was their faults. They had hardly misbehaved the last few months and it made him feel immensely guilty.

He stalked into the kitchen looking for his wife. 

She wasn't there, even though there was food on the stove. He quickly checked it and then turned down the temperature as it would burn if it continued at the same temperature. He walked up the stairs, after checking to see how his children were doing. Leo was playing with the dog, Fuego and Nora was busy reading a book. She reminded him of Olalla a lot, especially with her big brown eyes and long, curly brown hair.

He entered her bedroom, the bedroom they haven't shared in a long time, glaring at her pacing figure. She was busy on the phone, having an intense conversation with someone. She was talking in English but when she turned around she looked flustered, caught out. It was an obviously private conversation and he fleetingly felt guilty for interrupting the conversation she was having. Privacy and space was always something they held in the highest esteem in their marriage. 

She shrunk back from his glare and said bye hastily to the person on the phone. He walked in and she turned back to the stone sculpture she has become to him. 

He sat down on her bed, and she looked at him. After a few minutes, she sat down on the floor, relaxing, and her eyes were free and light. This was the woman he fell in love with, not the sculpture from earlier. 

But then she sighed and then her face turned hard. Hard, cold, no not cold, icy eyes.

This was it.

"I want a separation. I'm going back to Spain in three weeks. We have to think about the kids and I've started the steps for us both. I'm going to take them with with me," He was about to interrupt her, his temper flaring but she stopped him with her hand, "And they can come visit every second fortnight. They can stay for two weeks." 

He stared at his wife, dumbfounded.

He wasn't sad, nor was he particularly happy. He was just... neutral. Numb was more like it.

"Sure. I'll put the house on the market. Anyway, with me joining the new club, I have to move to London anyway." 

She was looking shocked at his businesslike manner. She honestly thought he would fight her about it, but this was not something she expected.

"Your precious football. That's whats on your mind? I shouldn't be surprised but I am." She scoffed and he rolled her eyes.

"It's how I fund your lavish lifestyle, Olalla." He bit back, now the hurt of the situation setting in.

Her eyes flashed dangerously, but she didn't reply. It was an old argument and they both didn't feel like rehashing it. He sighed, rubbing his face and she pursed her lips, her eyes on his face.

He then bit his lip, unsure, now getting pretty upset.

"Are we going to file for divorce?" He looked at her, vulnerability on his face and she looked like she hadn't even thought that far.

"I don't know. I just," She paused, emotions running across her face, "I need a break."

He nodded, stood up and left the room. Olalla then turned around, went into her en-suite, and started sobbing uncontrollably.

In the other side of the house, Fernando sat on the bed he had been using for 6 months, staring blankly at his hands as his mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

She seemed so sure. She wasn't going to change her mind, even with their children's lives in trouble. He didn't fight though and he didn't know if he would regret it in the future. He didn't regret it now and that's all that mattered to him.

He then snapped into action, calling his agent and then, the one person he knew would be there for him.