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WHEN WE FINALLY GOT BACK TO PARIS, everything seemed to be going great. From the day Neymar laid those rose petals out, he followed his promise to be a better man. And for a second, I thought to myself, I'd gotten lucky.
But as time went on, he slowly started to come home later and later. I always wondered where he'd go, but I was scared to allow this to be real. I didn't want things to go badly, so maybe if I ignored it, it'd go away.
I searched through his things, but nothing. No evidence of anything, which only made me feel guilty. I should trust him, shouldn't I?
My phone began to ding, so I raced toward it. It was Neymar, it had to be. But oh was I sadly mistaken.
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