Dezanove Estrelas

Camilla felt the familiar feeling of bile rise through her stomach and up into her throat. She ran for the bathroom to empty out her stomach’s contents. When she was finished, she groaned, and lifted herself to the counter to rinse and wash out her mouth. It was eleven am. She had been awake for a good three hours, but morning sickness liked to pop up on her at random times, now that the pregnancy was moving further along.

She was reaching the end of her first month, and honestly, she didn’t know what to feel at this point. Her excitement was still there. But over that was her fear, her frustration, and her hormones. Oh…the hormones.

Her stomach was beginning to show, but only in the slightest. However, to any normal pregnant woman like Camilla, a little protrusion seemed like a whale was forming in your stomach. But the worst part about it, Camilla at this point had no one to tell her otherwise of that very false statement. Sure there was Sergio, and Kaká as well as Benzema and others on the team and her friends…but it wasn’t the same as if someone she really cared for said it. Someone like, the father of her child. Someone named Cristiano Ronaldo.

As much as she hated to admit it, she did miss Cris. It had been about two weeks since their encounter after her first doctor’s appointment. He had been nonstop calling, and contacting her. And she was ready to cave, but Sergio refused to allow the two any interaction. In fact, he forbade it. Just another reason to let her hormones get the best of her and attack Sergio…but he forbade that too.

Camilla was just conflicted. Plain and simple. On one hand, she wanted to believe that Cris was doing all of this out of the goodness of his heart. But she knew him better than that. He was no longer that person…he had changed. And now, he was more concerned about his image and success than anything else.

-X-

She sat. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting. He was nearing an hour late, and Camilla didn’t know if she should be worried, or pissed as hell.

It had been a week since his presentation to Madrid and tonight is, or was supposed to be, the first night she and Cristiano have spent more than an hour for at home. Lately he’s been busy with press, with training, with adjustment, with endorsements. It was pure chaos.

She tapped her fingers on the table, and blew a breath from her lips. She was tired of waiting. She stood up hastily and smoothed out the material of her skin tight cocktail dress. She thought angrily to herself all the words she would speak to him before throwing a pillow and blanket his way - because he was sleeping on the couch tonight.

Just as she turned to leave, the doors of the restaurant opened and a billion flashes went off. It was purely blinding. She rolled her eyes as the paparazzi tried swarming inside the restaurant after whoever they were chasing. The media was pathetic sometimes. But then she heard the name they were calling, and she wanted to punch herself.

“Cristiano! Cristiano!” they yelled. He walked in front and past many of the shutter-bugs; strutting like he was the hottest thing alive. Despite the anger fuming from her ears, she had to admit that her boyfriend did clean up nicely. But that was all put aside the moment he appeared in front of her.

“Eu sou Camilla tão pesaroso. Eu alcanço em algumas coisas.” (“I’m so sorry Camilla. I got caught up in some things.”) He didn’t even bother to give her a sincere apology. He didn’t bother to greet her like how a girlfriend expects her boyfriend to greet her. There was no kiss, no hug, no pulling out the chair. Hell, Cris barely looked at her. He just walked around the table and sat down.

Camilla stood there, almost dumbfounded. She sat down and stared at him. He didn’t take notice though. She cleared her throat, causing him to look up at her - finally.

“O algo errado é? Você parece perturbar.” (“Is something wrong? You seem upset.”) he raised an eyebrow at her.

Oh, she has had it.

“O algo errado é?” she repeated rhetorically. “Eu tenho estado sentando-me-a para um hora Cristiano. Você foi supostos estar aqui uma hora há. Eu estava pronto para partir! Então você vem waltzing em aqui, com um enchente de paparazzi, agindo como nada está errado! Então você é maldita direito que eu sou perturbado. Cristiano, eu estou furioso!” (“I have been sitting her for an hour Cristiano. You were supposed to be here an hour ago. I was ready to leave! Then you come waltzing in here, with a flood of paparazzi, acting like nothing is wrong! So you’re damn right I’m upset. Cristiano, I’m furious!”) she exhaled through her nostrils.

She half expected him to apologize with some excuse she didn’t care to hear for. Then the other half of her expected him to defend himself, and blame her in some way. But he just sat there staring at her blankly.

That just angered her even more.

Sighing she threw her dinner napkin on the table, “Somente esqueça-se-o Cris.” (“just forget it Cris.”) She made the motion to stand up, but he grabbed hold of her wrist.

“Camilla, sente-se,” (“Camilla, sit down,”) he told her in a stern, almost threatening voice. His eyes glanced behind her, and she followed. The photographers were still outside, just watching the two of them eat. No doubt, they just saw them arguing.

Camilla coughed, “Oh eu vejo, isto talvez arruine sua nova imagem. Você sabe o que Cristiano!-” (“oh I see, this might ruin your new image. You know what Cristiano!-”

“Camilla!” he cut her off, startling her. She sat down with a huff and stared at him. Camilla watched him closely as one of his hands disappeared under the table and his body shifted. It looked like he was grabbing something from his pocket. His stare on her turned into an annoyed glare as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“O que?” she snapped.

He stopped fidgeting and sat back, semi slouched; his posture just looked annoyed at this point. He sighed and ran his free hand over his face before looking back at Camilla. This time, his eyes soft. “Você quer saber porque eu estava tão atrasado?” (“You want to know why I was so late?”) he asked, rhetorically of course. She nodded, her arms still folded across her chest in a defensive, hard manner. He sighed again and placed a small, black, velvet box on the table. Camilla almost gasped.

That couldn’t be what she thought it would be.

“Abra-o. É para você.” (“Open it. It’s for you.”) Cris told her. He still sat back in his seat.

Camilla slowly reached for the box and opened it - her jaw dropping and her eyes wide. “Oh meu deus.” (“Oh my god.”)

Her eyes set sight on a ---- ring. It was beautiful. So beautiful in fact, she wanted to cry. She knew what this ring was - what it is meant to be. And now, she wanted to cry for the way she had treated and spoken to Cristiano just moments ago.

“Case-me Camilla.” (“Marry me Camilla.”) he said softly to her. The restaurant was filled with chatter and laughter, but his words were all she heard.

Her vision snapped up from the ring and she smiled through teary eyes, “Eu sinto muito para gritar em você.” (“I’m sorry for yelling at you.”)

He smiled and stood up from the table. He took a step closer to her, before getting down on one knee. Anyone could hear and see the various other tables and onlookers gasp, and stare. Camilla had never had so much attention drawn to her, and it almost made her uncomfortable; but when Cris took her hands in his…nothing else really mattered.

“Não, bem a resposta que eu procurava,” (“Not, quite the answer I was looking for,”) he kissed her hand.

“Bem, você realmente não perguntou. Você espécie de…contou-me fazê-lo.” (“Well, you didn’t really ask. You kind of…told me to do it.”)

A smile and light chuckle left those perfect lips and he looked at her again, “Então como isto é? …o Irá casar me, Camilla-Rey Verano.” (“then how is this?…Will you marry me, Camilla-Rey Verano.”)

She smiled, “Sim.”
-X-

She remembered that day like it was yesterday. She remembered being so angry with him when he didn’t show up on time. She remembered what it was like to see him walk in the restaurant like no one mattered in the world - except for him. She hated him like that. She wanted to vomit, she wanted to turn away and scoff. His narcissism truly disgusted her. Sure, she loved his confidence. But there was a difference between being confident and narcissistic. And Cristiano blew that line.

But in that moment. When he got down on one knee and proposed, she saw that man she met back in Manchester.

-X-

They finished dinner and went home to celebrate their engagement…in private, intimate quarters. And needless to say, Camilla was nervous.

She always promised herself she would wait till her wedding day. To save herself for the moment she was vowed and spiritually binded to that one special person. But she knew, she just knew that Cristiano was the one. And plus, engagement day is close enough to wedding day…at least that’s what her body was telling her.

Upon stepping inside, they wasted no time in discarding their clothing and making their way into their newly renovated bedroom. Cristiano gently lay Camilla on her back as he kissed every inch of her body - leaving no space untouched. So gentle. So kind to what she wanted. He knew this would be her first time. And she knew this was not his. But she was willing to give this to her; willing to give up her innocence, her purity to this man.

“Eu amo-o.” Cristiano kissed her nosed. She returned the kiss and gave him an ‘I love you’ of her own. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, then her lips before whispering against them, “Eu sinto muito para minhas acções hoje.” (“I’m sorry for my actions today.”)

She shook her head and kissed back, “Eu perdôo-o.” (“I forgive you.”) So ready for him, she could not wait any longer as she pushed her hips against his, making him groan.

“Eu sei que você esteve zangado comigo ultimamente. E eu sou Camilla tão pesaroso. A publicidade recebe a mim.” (“I know you have been angry with me lately. And I’m so sorry Camilla. The publicity is getting to me.”) She pulled her face down and stared at him. “Mas você me mantem humilho. Eu sei que quando eu recebo para casa o 'll está aqui gritar em mim e minha cabeça grande.” (“But you keep me humble. I know that when I get home you‘ll be here to yell at me and my big head.”)

Camilla smiled and leaned up to kiss him, “Você acaba de necessitar alguém mostrá-lo humildade. Para mantê-lo baseou. A-” (“you just need someone to show you humility. To keep you grounded. To-”)

“Mostre-me zangar, com punhos ferozes.” (“Show me anger, with fierce fists.”) he finished. “Só você pode pôr no chão me, e me faz compreender que esta cabeça grande não é que eu sou.” (“Only you can put me down, and make me realize that this big head is not who I am.”) He kissed her gently, “Só você Camilla. E eu sou deus agradecido deu-me você.” (“Only you Camilla. And I’m grateful god gave me you.”)

She kissed back just as gentle, and just as passionate. “Faça amor a mim Cristiano.” (Make love to me Cristiano.”) He didn’t need any other words. He listened, and he obeyed. Bringing his fiancé to pure bliss, over and over again, in a night she knew she wouldn’t forget.
-X-

Anger boiled inside of her at the memories. She gave herself to this man that no longer wanted her. She gave her purity to a disgusting, arrogant pig. She remembered his words:

“Show me anger with fierce fists…”

And right now, that was all she wanted to do. She grabbed the nearest thing to her, which happened to be a bottle of lotion right next to the sink, and threw it across the bathroom. Feeling slightly better, but now, ten times as angry, she grabbed another item and threw it. Then onto another, and another, until she looked at her reflection and punched the mirror.

The glass broke. Some pieces fell to the ground. Some tiny bits stuck in her skin as she now bled from her knuckles. Tears escaped her eyes; frustrated tears. Still not satisfied. She punched the mirror again, only this time…harder. The glass broke more and more pieces shattered all over the bathroom countertop.

She stepped back, blood dripping from her hand and down her arm. She screamed. She did not shout. She did not holler. She screamed bloody murder. Her voice was so piercing and loud, she did not hear the person yelling for her to stop. She didn’t even feel his touch when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her out of the bathroom. The only reason she noticed it was a man was because he was able to carry her. And the only reason she looked up, was because he forced her to. And when she saw him, she smacked him clear across the face.

“Saia!” (“Get out!”) she screamed. “Você enoja-me! Faça-o ouvir me Cristiano! Você fucking enoja cada fibra de meu ser! Eu odeio-o! Eu ódio de fucking você!” (“You disgust me! Do you hear me Cristiano! You fucking disgust every fiber of my being! I hate you! I fucking hate you!”) she continued to smack him, as he tried getting her hands in a grip to keep her from doing so. But she was too erratic.

“Camilla! Camilla! Camilla, paragem! Paragem! Isto não é bom para o bebê! Isto não é bom para você!” (“Camilla! Camilla! Camilla, stop! Stop! This is not good for the baby! This is not good for you!”)

“No!” she screamed, “Isto é o que você pediu Cristiano! Você quis raiva, bem aqui está! Você é tudo que é errado comigo! Eu não posso ficar olhar-me por causa de você! Eu não posso ficar pensar que cada movimento que eu fiz desde que eu vim a Madri com você teve um ano erro grande! Não é somente justo! Não é Cris justo! Você tomou tudo de mim! Eu não dei-lhe nada mas dedicação pura e você me deixa!” (“This is what you asked for Cristiano! You wanted anger, well here it is! You are everything that’s wrong with me! I can’t stand to look at myself because of you! I can’t stand to think that every move I have made since I came to Madrid with you has been one big mistake! It’s just not fair! It’s not fair Cris! You have taken everything from me! I have given you nothing but pure devotion and you leave me!”)

She was in hysterics at this point, and her hands had stopped flailing. Cristiano pulled her into his chest where she cried, soaking his shirt. When she realized just how close she was, she tried fighting back, but he held her too tight.

“Camilla-”

“No!” she bawled, “no, no, no!”

“Camilla!” he shook her, “Camilla escuta-me. Escute! Você tem que acalmar! Tá bom, esta tensão só machuca o bebê e você. Agora você deve acalmar.” (“Camilla listen to me. Listen! You have to calm down! Okay, this stress is only hurting the baby and you. Now you must calm down.”)

He helped her calm her breathing to a normal rate. When she was down to just a few sniffles and hiccups, her body relaxed.

“Camilla, eu estou tão pesaroso.” (“Camilla, I am so sorry.”)

“Você continua a dizer esse Cristiano. Como eu sei que você quer dizê-lo?” (“You keep saying that Cristiano. How do I know you mean it?”)

He pulled her away to look her dead in the eyes. Nothing but sincerity shown in them. “Porque eu o necessito Camilla. Eu necessito-o. Isso não conta absolutamente? Eu sei minha vida agora sem você. Eu tenho estado indo vida louca nesse quarto de hotel. Eu não sei como funcionar. Não é somente correcto acordar-se sem você ao lado de mim.” (“Because I need you Camilla. I need you. Doesn’t that count at all? I know my life now without you. I have been going crazy living in that hotel room. I don’t know how to function. It’s just not right waking up without you beside me.”)

She knew he was being honest. But something in her stomach just wasn’t buying it.

“Por favor, por favor acredite-me Camilla. Eu sinto muito.” (“Please, please believe me Camilla. I am sorry.”)

She stood there and stared blankly at the man before her. For the first time when she looked at Cristiano, she felt nothing at all.

No love.

No hate.

Nothing.