The Lagos skyline glimred beyond the hotel’s massive windows as the early morning sun streaked through sheer curtains.
Inside the presidential suite, Sam sat sprawled on the edge of a velvet armchair, hands buried in his hair, frustration dripping off him like sweat after a derby match.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, his voice low but heated. "I can’t step outside without being mobbed!" He complained.
"Can you imagine?"
"I an, I just want to step outside and play a little street ball... ho, with the boys, you know? Feel the dust again, hear the real sounds. But nah, everywhere I go, it’s a circus".
From the king-sized bed, Kayla, his newly wedded wife, folder her arms, pouting like a sulking striker benched on match day.
"You know what’s really ridiculous, Samuel?" She said, shooting him a playful but sharp glare.
Sam flinched on hearing his full na called instead of Sam or babe, wondering what he did wrong or what he said wrong.
She placed her hands on her hips akimbo. "We haven’t had a proper honeymoon, husband!" She stressed.
"Wedding, then straight to the World Cup, then straight to being a superstar... where exactly was my honeymoon supposed to fit in?"
Sam coughed, almost choking on his own saliva.
He looked up, guilt softening his frustration. He stood and walked over, sitting beside her. "Babe... I know," he said, lifting her chin gently. "I owe you big ti. I promise, before the season kicks off again, I’ll give you the honeymoon you deserve".
"Maldives, Paris... na it, even if it’s Abraka you want or so trenches". Kayla glared at him; he smiled. "I promise babe. But right now, I just... I miss it".
Kayla’s expression softened. "Miss what?"
"Football," Sam whispered. "Not the caras, not the sold-out stadiums. The real thing. The streets. The way I started, I miss it".
Kayla sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "So what, you just wanna sneak into a field sowhere and start kicking a ball around like you’re not currently the most famous man on the planet?"
"Exactly," Sam grinned. "But unless I suddenly learn invisibility... it’s impossible". He said, deflating.
Kayla rolled her eyes but kissed his cheek. "We’ll figure sothing out. Just... don’t forget you have a wife now, Mr. Football God".
"Ah, you too?"
Kayla chuckled and left.
...
Later that morning, Kayla left early for a bit of shopping.
Sam assud it was just clothes or jewelry. But when she returned, grinning like she’d just pulled off a heist, Sam was intrigued as she carried a sleek black bag and set it dramatically on the bed.
"What’s this?" Sam asked, curious.
Kayla pulled out two futuristic-looking masks, sleek and almost cinematic, with embedded tech that subtly altered facial structure and skin tone.
"Picked them up from this boutique downtown," she said, smirking. "So sci-fi nonsense that actually works".
"If you really wanna disappear for a day... these will make you just another guy in the crowd".
"Really?"
Sam blinked, then burst into laughter. "Kayla, you are a genius!"
She put one mask on him, stepping back, then she grinned. "You don’t even look like my husband anymore. Heck, I wouldn’t let you in the house like this".
But then, her smile faded, the look in her eyes slowly changing as she realized. "Wait..., what cursed technology is this?"
"Does this an with the right mask, a random girl can pretend to be and seduce my husband while I’m not around?"
"Holy...!" She grabbed her head dramatically.
Sam just stood awkwardly, speechless.
In the end, he chuckled, eyes lighting up with boyish excitent. "Babe, pack a bag. We’re going ho".
Kayla tilted her head. "Ho as in...?"
Sam smiled wide, that sa mischievous grin from when he was a boy playing barefoot in Abraka. "Delta State of course".
"We’re catching the next flight to Abraka".
...
The plane humd softly as it descended into Warri Airport.
Wearing their masks, Sam and Kayla blended into the crowd, strolling through arrivals without a single person recognizing the most famous footballer in Africa.
Like Kayla said, the masks worked.
Sam felt over the moon.
By late afternoon, they reached Abraka after taking public transport.
Due to his current fa, public transport was a risk but so long no one knew their identity, they were not really in danger, right?
Abraka. The town was buzzing as always, oblivious to the legend now back ho and walking its streets.
Sam felt a lump in his throat as they passed familiar corners; the vendor where he once begged for water after dusty matches, the old field where he scored a morable goal that lived long in his mory, and that viewing center.
The viewing center where he watched his very first football ga as a kid, just 6 years old, alongside his dad: the 2011 UEFA Champions League final.
To think now, he would be a UEFA Champions League trophy winner too.
’Maybe I should invest in this viewing center, renovate it, make it popular’. He thought as he passed it alongside his wife.
"This feels unreal," he murmured.
"You look like you’re twelve again," Kayla teased, slipping her hand into his.
And then, they wandered onto the Delta State University, Campus 3, laughter and music echoing from student hostels.
That’s when Sam heard it, the unmistakable sound of a ball pinging against concrete, shouts of young voices calling for passes.
On a small, open five-a-side pitch, a group of boys; barefoot, so in mismatched jerseys were locked in a fierce match.
Dust kicked up as tackles flew, the ga raw and fast, just like Sam rembered.
Sam stopped at the edge of the pitch, grinning like a kid.
"Kayla... this is it".
Monts later, he slipped off his jacket, approached the group, and casually called out.
"Any free spot? Mind if I join?"
The boys, sweaty and wide-eyed, exchanged glances.
One shrugged. "You play?"
Sam chuckled. "A little".
They handed him a faded jersey and a pair of scuffed boots. Kayla watched from the sidelines, trying not to laugh at how normal Sam looked.
It looked strange... but weirdly free and liberating.
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