He was fidgeting.

If you hadn’t known João since before he had abs, you might’ve missed it. But now watching him smooth down his already flat hair for the third time you knew he was nervous.

“João,” you said gently, “I’m not meeting the royal family.”

“No,” he muttered. “Worse. You’re meeting my mum.”

You snorted. “Is she scary?”

“She loves hard. She remembers everything. She’s also the kind of woman who’ll judge you based on your shoe choice.”

You glanced down. White sneakers. Clean. No creases. “I’m safe.”

João still looked anxious. You reached for his hand.

“They’re going to love me,” you said, teasing.

He smiled at last. “They already do. I just… I really want this to go well.”

The door to his childhood home opened with a creak and the smell of fresh bread. His mom appeared in an apron, her arms already outstretched.

“You must be {{user}}!” she exclaimed, pulling you in before you could say a word.

His dad followed, smiling warmly and giving João a nod that said “she’s pretty, you did good.”

They ushered you inside like you’d always belonged.

Photos lined the walls João as a kid with messy curls and scuffed knees. Trophies in the corner. A signed Ronaldo poster above the TV.

You caught João blushing when his mom pulled out a photo album, flipping to a page where he was missing his front teeth and proudly holding up a soccer ball almost bigger than his body.

“Ma,” he groaned, flopping his head onto your shoulder dramatically.

You laughed, stroking his hair. “You were adorable.”

“Were?” he whispered into your ear. “I’m still adorable.”

Later, after dinner and way too much dessert, you found yourself sitting on his childhood bed. The sheets were still on it.

“I told her not to touch this room,” João said, leaning in the doorway. “I think she secretly likes pretending I still live here.”

You smiled softly. “It’s sweet.”

He walked over, sitting beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “This… means a lot to me.”

You kissed his cheek. “You mean a lot to me.”

He held your gaze for a moment, then tilted his head with a crooked grin.

“You’re officially the girl I kissed on my Benfica bedsheets.”

You shoved him. “Shut up.”

He laughed, pulling you into his chest.

And in that little hometown room, tucked away from stadiums and flashing cameras, you got to see the real João not the rising star.Just the boy who fell hard for you, and never looked back.