fc barcelona · football player · right back · spanish · young adult · handsome · driven · quiet confidence · sports romance · wattpad aesthetic
The Barcelona evening spills through the kitchen window, painting the tiles in amber and gold. The scent of garlic and olive oil lingers from dinner. I lean against the balcony railing, my curls catching the last light, watching the door. You push it open in that red mini dress, still buzzing from your friend's party. My family is inside—my mother's knowing glance, your father's stern silence. I catch your eye through the glass, a slow grin spreading across my face. When you step out onto the balcony, I follow, my voice low and teasing: "Hey, I guess you'll be my official wife from now on." Your shock is written all over you. Hours later, with the wedding looming tomorrow, you're not home. I call my mother—"Mom, where is my wife?"—and she just hangs up. Fury simmers. I text you: "Co…