The five-a-side match had ended hours ago, but its echoes lingered.
The dusty pitch near the estate was dark now, but laughter still carried down the streets. The dusty pitch carried a new mory now, a mory that was probably going to be unforgettable to every child that witnessed it.
It would beco synonymous with Christmas to them.
Forget about the future for a mont. Even now, they were yet to get over the mory that they just created.
At ho, children replayed the goals in exaggerated fashion, while neighbors argued good-naturedly about offsides that never existed.
As for Ian? Well, he was still insisting he had been cheated.
"Now I see why they had to introduced VAR to football, I an, co on, VAR would have given two more goals!" he declared, arms flailing.
"You an minus two," Sophia shot back, puffing her chest with pride. "Don’t forget, I scored too."
"You scuffed it!" Ian shouted. "The ball just pitied you."
The circle of neighbors and cousins burst into laughter, the kind of laughter that stitched mories into skin.
By the ti everyone trooped back to the Moses mansion, it was past midnight. The compound slled faintly of dust and sweat, but the glow of Christmas lights still shimred across the walls.
Mrs. Moses, trust her, she fussed the mont they entered.
"Samuel, you’re mad! You think Barcelona is paying you to co and roll in dust with small children?"
"Mommy..., haba, calm down na". Sam groaned, wiping sweat from his brow.
But she wasn’t having it.
"Keep quiet!" she snapped, but her eyes twinkled as she served him food. "Eat before you faint."
Used to her antics though, Sam didn’t take it to heart as his face brightened up at the sight of food, quickly taking it from her.
It was not just one plate though, she brought plates of leftover jollof and suya from the kitchen as soon as they returned. Ian also took a plate, who by now looked like he hadn’t eaten all day.
Despite the mountain of food that they made in the morning, what remained was now negligible after giving out majority of it to neighbors.
And as the n ate, Kayla slipped away for a shower, her hair damp when she returned, her face fresh again.
She casually wore one of Sam’s T-shirts which was loose on her fra, and leaned against the doorfra, smiling at the scene before her.
Sam was now with his father, arguing about football tactics. On another side, Sophia danced to Christmas carols with her phone flashlight like it was a disco. As for Ian, he was once again stealing puff-puff when he thought no one was looking.
Kayla chuckled at the sight.
For the first ti in months, the house felt whole.
Later, as the family drifted into smaller conversations, Mr. Moses drew Sam aside in the garden. The bonfire had burned out, but the embers glowed faintly.
"You’ve made us proud," his father said simply, hands folded behind his back.
Sam swallowed, throat thick. "I couldn’t have done it without this," he gestured to the house, the garden, and the warmth. "Without family".
Recalling a mory, he smiled. "I still rember that Christmas when Coach Yemi Daniels ca to the field. Dad, I don’t think I’ve particularly thanked you for that yet, but thank you for getting the boots and jersey that day".
His father’s face softened as he smiled.
He nodded once, then patted Sam’s shoulder. "You’re my son, of course I’ll get you boots when you want to play football". He laughed.
A few seconds later, he added. "Legacy is not just trophies son, rember that."
Sam nodded, carving the words into his heart.
By 2 AM, the house had grown quieter. Sophia had fallen asleep curled on the couch, phone still buzzing. Ian snored lightly in the guest room, a proud grin still on his face even in sleep.
Sam enjoyed the visage for a few monts before he stepped outside for air. The Abuja night was still, crickets chirping in the garden, the night sky tranquil with stars bright overhead.
He breathed deeply, dust and suya still on his tongue. Despite it being this late already, he could still hear laughter echoing in his ears.
He smiled.
This mont, it felt perfect.
Then, from behind him, he heard the sound of soft footsteps. Kayla joined him, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders. Her hair frad her face, glowing in the dim porch light.
"You disappeared," she teased gently.
"Needed air," Sam said. "And a reminder."
"A reminder of what?"
"That this is why I play. Why I work, it’s for monts like this."
Kayla leaned against him, their shoulders brushing. "You could’ve fooled , you know? It almost looked like you were trying to win the World Cup out there on that dusty pitch."
Sam laughed. "Old habits die hard".
They stood in silence for a while, the night wrapping them in quiet. Then Kayla slipped her hand into his.
"Do you realize," she whispered, "that you’ve spent the last three months proving yourself to the world? Ballon d’Or, CAF Player of the Year, FIFA Best, and still, here you are... just Sam... just mine."
Sam turned, brushing a stray lock from her face. His chest tightened at the warmth in her eyes. "That’s the only title that matters."
Kayla smiled softly. She leaned in, their lips eting under the stars, slow and unhurried, the kind of kiss that didn’t need the world watching.
When they pulled apart, she whispered, "Promise you won’t forget this feeling. No matter how many trophies co."
Sam kissed her forehead. "Never. This is my anchor."
Together, they stood in the stillness, hand in hand, the echoes of Christmas joy lingering in the air. For one night, there was no pressure, no fatigue, no rivalry. Just love, family, and peace.
Tomorrow, the world would roar again.
But tonight, it was silent. Perfectly silent.
But then, Kayla whispered. "I’m pregnant".
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