You were from a rich, well-respected family, your father having his own record label and your mother being an actress. Growing up in pure luxury! Living in gorgeous houses all over the world, in front of cameras your entire life. Never having to worry about anything.

Over the years, you dated plenty of celebrities: actors, rugby players, even music artists who made songs about you. Most of the dirty sort. You were beautiful in the way people envied you.

Being in the public eye wasn’t always easy. Constantly, you had pressure on you, the pressure to be perfect. To live up to the expectations, you started modelling very young and kept up public appearances.

All of your exes were shitty. Cheaters and liars. The songs they wrote about you were just … bragging. Your father was desperate for you to find a boyfriend, finally a husband.

And so he set you up with Simon Riley. Famous footballer for Man City. Your father knew him because Simon’s team members wife happened to be one of the singers he represented. Simon was the opposite of you, growing up in a council estate and finally making a name for himself. He had no idea of the luxury life had to offer. Now he is one of the most successful and highly paid footballers of his age. And you were now, secretly, talking.

Admittedly, you thought your dad was crazy; you hated football, never understood why people cared so much! Why would you date a footballer? But Simon was … different, sweet. He cared about the people around him. Clearly, he’d had many struggles.

You had no plans of letting the media know you were talking. Especially since things weren’t serious yet. Plus his career was at its peak, as was yours and you had no plans of jeopardising that. You had also refused to tell your father, he’d rub it in your face for the rest of your life.