Rise of a Football God-Chapter 466: The gentle days after glory
Two days after the open-top parade, when the crowds had quieted and the chants faded into memory, Sam escaped.
Sam escaped; not from the love, but from the noise.
This was the busiest season of his career by a sizeable margin. The UEFA Champions League final made it his 56th game this season.
He didn't just play the games though, he exerted himself, shattering records left and right. After the UEFA Champions League final, Sam's statistics stood at 77 goals and 40 assists in just 56 games!
It was a truly staggering figure, 117 goal contributions in 56 games!
He truly went all out and did the impossible this season.
This is why with Kayla's hand in his, after the open-top parade, Sam boarded a private speedboat from the port of Saint Antoni de Portmany, slipping away to a secluded cove only known to locals and legends.
The sky was painted in soft hues of coral and lavender. The sun, heavy and golden, sank slowly into the Mediterranean, throwing firelight across the waves.
They docked at a Cliffside villa, carved into the rock like a hidden treasure; whitewashed stone, wraparound terraces, infinity pool bleeding into the sea.
Their phones were off. No cameras, no fans, no football.
Just peace.
…
Day 1.
That morning, Sam woke up to the gentle rustle of linen curtains, Kayla curled beside him, her head on his bare shoulder, their legs tangled beneath crisp white sheets.
Once again, he applauded himself for the brilliant decision to go on a vacation and escape from all the noise.
"You're snoring less now that you've won the Champions League," she whispered with a smirk.
They laughed, then he kissed her forehead.
No crowds. No schedules. Just the slow rhythm of two hearts finally resting.
Later, they explored the coastline by kayak, paddling through sapphire caves and sun-drenched inlets. Kayla wore a straw hat and a black bikini that made Sam forget every defense he'd ever broken.
She laughed freely, splashing him with her oar, and he feigned surrender with dramatic groans.
'Gosh… I wish it can stay like this forever'.
They dined barefoot on the terrace, a private chef serving fresh langoustines, chilled albarino, and figs drizzled with honey. Sunset bled across the sky as soft Spanish guitar echoed in the background.
After dinner, they sank into the infinity pool, stars winking above them, the sea below whispering secrets to the rocks.
They spoke of nothing and everything; of their future wedding, of childhood dreams, of where to hang his Champions League medal.
She said. "Wherever it doesn't outshine you".
Sam laughed.
…
Day 2.
Kayla surprised him with a massage appointment at a Cliffside cabana surrounded by lavender bushes and sea breeze. For the first time in months, his muscles weren't screaming. His mind wasn't racing. He let go.
In the afternoon, they wandered the streets of Ibiza Old Town, Dalt Vila hand in hand, sipping café bombon in a quiet courtyard.
Locals barely glanced at them; to this little town, they were just two lovers wrapped in sun.
They had a great time.
Hours later, the sky above Ibiza had turned a shade of deep violet, the stars crisp and close enough to pluck. From the rooftop of their private villa, the world felt distant; just sea, wind, and love.
Sam had been quiet through dinner. Not brooding, just… thoughtful.
Kayla noticed the way he kept looking at her, like he was memorizing something. Like her smile was something he'd need to carry in his pocket.
As the last of the dessert wine was poured, he took her hand and guided her to the terrace. Lanterns flickered around them, their glow soft and golden, and waves murmured far below.
A light breeze lifted her curls as she stepped barefoot onto the cool stone.
"I've got something for you," he said, pulling a slip of parchment from his shirt pocket.
Kayla looked at his hand with curiosity, trying to guess what it was.
It wasn't a ring. She already wore that, had worn it for months now. It was a folded, cream-colored paper, delicately pressed, the kind you'd find in an old bookstore. Her brows rose as he placed it in her hands, his eyes unreadable but full of warmth.
Kayla chuckled. "You're being all mysterious, what is it?"
Sam smiled warmly at her. "Look at it".
She obeyed and looked.
Just seven words, written in his clean, elegant handwriting.
[Our Wedding Day – June 3rd, 3PM.]
Kayla stared. Her lips parted.
Then…
"Wait… what?" Her voice was a whisper caught between laughter and shock.
Seeing her reaction, Sam was satisfied, feeling a warm feeling rise in his chest. He smiled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Mom wore me down, always nagging about when the big day would be," he said with a grin. "And… I realized I didn't want to wait anymore".
"We've already done the hard parts. You were there through every injury, every slump, every press circus. Hell, all the way from Fulham". He laughed.
Kayla also laughed, tears already welling in her eyes.
Sam looked at her, smiling. "You were there before the trophies. So now…," he stepped closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Let's just do it!" He said with enthusiasm.
"Let's make it real. Three days from now. In Barcelona. Everything's already in motion".
She blinked, once, twice, then the paper fluttered from her hand as she lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest.
"You idiot," she whispered, laughing into his shirt, voice shaking. "You beautiful, sneaky idiot. I would've married you in a parking lot".
He held her, grinning as the stars spun slowly above them.
"Good. Because I'm not giving you time to run".
"As if I ever would". She laughed.
And as the sea sighed and the lanterns swayed, Sam held his future in his arms, and she held hers in his.
…
That night, as they lay wrapped in linen again, waves murmuring in the distance, Kayla traced the hair on his arm and said. "It's not just the trophies that make you legendary".
"What is it then?" He asked, brushing her cheek.
"The way you come back to yourself. To us".
And in that quiet, private paradise, Barca's star striker became something more than a champion…
He became whole.
