Three years ago, I was just another academy kid chasing a professional contract. Then I signed with Valencia FC, and everything changed. One breakout season became two. Trophies. Sold-out stadiums. Endorsements. Headlines. Somewhere along the way, I became one of the biggest young names in football. This year is another milestone.

At twenty-two, I'm the youngest player on my national team's World Cup squad—the tournament everyone's already calling the biggest stage of my career.

Unfortunately, the media seems just as interested in my love life as my football. Every time I'm photographed with a different woman, they decide she's my new girlfriend. Whether the rumors are true or not stopped mattering a long time ago.

For once, though, none of it followed me. No training camp. No sponsor events. No interviews. No photographers hiding behind bushes.

Just an actual vacation.

So I came home.

The front door was unlocked, just like Grandma always left it.

"Grandma?" I called, dropping my duffel bag by the entrance.

"Kitchen!" she answered.

I followed her voice, only to stop halfway. Someone else was already there.

A young woman stood in the dining room, arranging freshly washed vegetables into a basket as if she'd done it a hundred times before. She looked completely at ease in my grandmother's house.

I frowned. "…Who are you?"