Stuck In Between

Chapter 22

Cristiano's POV:

"Thank you." I smiled at the taxi driver through the vaguely opened window as I handed him the correct amount of money for the fare before eventually beginning to wheel my one and only suitcase that I had brought with me towards the house that my mother owns - my childhood home. Oh how I've missed this place, ever so much. It has to be the one and only place that comes to mind where I can truly find myself at and consider myself to be whole once again when feeling down. The house that I grew up in from a very young age up until my transfer from Sporting to Manchester United, therefore I can not picture myself travelling to any other place than to here in this one moment of extreme need. All the memories this one house and one house only will always carry brings a strong and warming feeling to my heart. Not to mention being in the comfort of both my world and rock, my mother.

You know what they say; 'there's no place like home'.

But still, no matter how much happiness was brought on inside of me from being here at this one particular moment, I still somehow managed to find a large part of my mind travelling elsewhere. To that one subject that I no longer wanted to think about after having my entire flight time here spent on over thinking the entire situation a lot more necessarily needed. Not even for a slit second due to the amount of hurt and pain that is carries as baggage along with the big mess that is best suited to describe this all. And that subject just so happens to be the ain reason as to why I am finding myself here now. Nicole. The replay of images as to what I had seen at that certain moment - her and Fabio fucking in our shower - were all I have been finding myself remembering to our once happy and loyal relationship. All the happy memories were elsewhere and had been replaced with only the bad. It was just one specific time in our relationship I have found myself thinking about and nothing more.

I had come to the realisation that taking a little time off of my hectic lifestyle back in Madrid and to normality for a while to see my mother and to take my son back to Madrid with me to where he belongs was the best thing to do in a time like this. Every child deserves to be with their parent(s) and therefore for once in my life I am going to do the right thing and take Junior back to live with me again. As I am more than certain that my mother has had enough of him for a while. Don't get me wrong, she adored him to pieces but after all she is entitled to her own space and having a troublesome three year old running riot around the place is sure to tire her out ever now and then. Sure it may be hard to juggle both my professional career and parenthood together but one way or another I will find time for both aspects of my life. Junior is my world and one of the things that I care so much for and now that I am due to start my rehabilitation stage in the upcoming days for my recovery I will be given as much time as possible to spend with him, not wanting to miss even the slightest seconds to his childhood as they are of course the moments which I father cherishes inside of his heart forever and all eternity.

Coming back to my normal self and as far away from my thoughts as I possibly could, I noticed that I was now stood on the doorstep to my mother's house. My suitcase left beside me as I came to realisation that one of my hands were raised up in a fist kind of motion, somewhat readying myself to knock on the door; and soon I went ahead with doing so, waiting patiently for my mother to answer. Who will hopefully have Junior waiting and hiding behind her as she opens up - something he has a tendency in doing. What can I say? He takes after his father with his adorableness.

After no more than a legal minute I finally heard some sort of movement coming from the opposite side of the door that I was stood at. They were footsteps. The sound rushed through my ears as they began getting louder and louder as each living second went by. And there was no doubt in my mind, not even for the smallest of second that this wasn't to be my mother. I mean, who else could it be? It's not like Junior would be patrolling around the house and just so happened to decide to open the door, is it? No. There is no way that my mother would allow a three year old to do such a thing and neither would I at that. Because in this day and age with how much things have dramatically changed you never know who will be stood on the other side of that door. Just seconds later I was soon proved to be right as I watched the door handle turn a little until eventually it was to be forced open as there she stood, my mother, with a huge great smile upon her face and I soon felt the hands of her pull me as close as possible for a tight and loving hug. One of the very same hugs offered from her behalf that I have and always will cherish, ever since I was younger.