May 30th, 2015 – Road to Florida
Somewhere off the I-95, U.S. East Coast
After the whirlwind of the Los Angeles premiere, the flashing cameras, and the thunderous applause that still echoed faintly in their minds, Adriano and Kate found themselves on a quieter, more personal journey. The kind that doesn't involve red carpets or TV crews—but feels just as significant.
They were heading to Florida.
The occasion? Their engagement party—organized by Kate's parents, Jeff and Shelly Upton, who had insisted on hosting something intimate to celebrate the couple's new chapter. And this time, it wasn't just the Uptons. Adriano's parents, Rosa and Julio Riveiro, were also flying in from Spain. Two families would meet as future in-laws. The thought was equal parts thrilling and surreal.
That morning, Adriano and Kate had picked up his parents at the airport. Julio, tall and lean with the weathered features of a man who had spent decades on football pitches as a youth coach, greeted his son with a bear hug that lifted him off the ground.
"Still scoring goals and stealing hearts, eh?" he said with a wink.
Rosa, elegant and warm, pulled Kate into a long embrace. "Mi niña," she said softly, brushing a hand through Kate's hair. "You're even more beautiful than I remember."
Kate smiled, already melting into their warmth. "It's so good to see you both again."
Rosa cupped Adriano's cheek. "You better behave this week. Her parents will be watching."
"Believe me, Mamá," Adriano said, grinning. "They've already done their surveillance."
Once the luggage was packed into the back of the SUV, they began the drive south—Florida-bound with open skies and light hearts. The four of them took the scenic route along the coast, occasionally stopping at small towns for food, stretching their legs, or snapping impromptu photos. There was no schedule, no event planner, no security team—just family.
Inside the car, the vibe was breezy and light. Julio sat up front with Adriano, talking football tactics and recounting stories of Adriano's teenage days playing barefoot on dusty fields in Porto.
"You know, he used to cry if he didn't score two goals a game," Julio told Kate, turning slightly from the front seat.
"Two goals?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Minimum," Julio confirmed. "He once sulked for two days because he scored only once in a final."
"Scored only once in a final," Kate repeated, nudging Adriano playfully. "A tragedy."
"I've grown since then," Adriano replied, mock-offended. "Now I sulk for just one day."
In the back seat, Rosa and Kate talked about wedding ideas, flipping through magazines and Pinterest boards on Kate's iPad. Every few miles, they paused to debate something—floral arrangements, dress styles, whether the ceremony should be in Spain or the States.
"I think I want something small," Kate said, looking out the window as trees zipped by. "Personal. Intimate. Nothing too flashy."
"You two are too famous for small," Rosa replied, smiling. "But we'll make it feel that way."
Kate looked over at her. "That's all I want."
Around mid-afternoon, they stopped at a beachside café somewhere along the Georgia-Florida border. They ordered iced teas and sandwiches, sitting outside under a thatched awning. A few people recognized Adriano and Kate, but most gave them space, occasionally stealing glances or whispering behind menus.
One teenager did approach as they finished their meal—a boy, no older than fifteen, wearing a City jersey three sizes too big. He stood near their table, clearly nervous.
"Sorry, um... I just wanted to say—your goal in the final? It was insane. Like... history."
Adriano smiled and stood, offering his hand. "Thanks, mate. You play?"
The boy nodded shyly. "Yeah. Left back."
"Then keep pushing forward," Adriano said. "You'll get there."
Kate snapped a quick photo of them together, and the boy walked off glowing like he'd just met Superman.
Back on the road, the final stretch into Florida felt even warmer, even lighter. The car was filled with stories and laughter—the kind that didn't need translation, even when Rosa slipped into Spanish or Kate used dry humor her future in-laws were still getting used to.
They finally arrived just outside of Melbourne, Florida, where the Uptons lived on a spacious property nestled in a quiet neighborhood near the Indian River. The driveway was already decorated—white streamers, a banner that read Congratulations Adriano & Kate, and a row of red and gold balloons tied to the mailbox.
Jeff came out first, wearing khaki shorts and a tropical shirt, looking like someone who'd never once felt the stress of being a father to a global celebrity.
"There they are!" he called, arms open wide. "World-class footballer, superhero girlfriend, and international in-laws! We got the whole squad!"
Shelly followed close behind, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. "Welcome, welcome!" she said, rushing forward to hug Rosa, then Julio. "We're so thrilled you're all here."
Introductions were warm and unforced. Julio and Jeff clicked immediately—two dads comparing notes on grilling and sports while trading jokes about their respective children. Rosa and Shelly found themselves deep in conversation on the patio, sipping wine and talking wedding logistics, as if they'd known each other for years.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped behind the palm trees, Jeff fired up the grill while Kate and Adriano helped set the table outside. A small crowd of local friends and extended family was expected the next day for the actual party, but tonight, it was just the six of them.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" Kate asked softly as she handed Adriano a pair of tongs.
He nodded, glancing around at the fairy lights Shelly had strung along the backyard fence. "It feels like home. Even if it's not mine."
She paused, watching him. "You know... you're part of this family now."
He turned to her, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "And you're part of mine."
Later, as they all sat down to eat—plates piled high with grilled chicken, corn on the cob, and fresh salad—there was laughter, wine, and the kind of comfort that only comes from knowing you're exactly where you're supposed to be.
Tomorrow would be a celebration. But tonight? Tonight was about family.
****
May 30th, 2015 – Upton Family Home, Melbourne, Florida
7:45 PM – Backyard Patio, beneath fairy lights
After hours on the road and some time to shower and unwind, the evening had settled into a warm Florida calm. The golden dusk gave way to a soft night breeze, the stars just beginning to peek out above the backyard as the final touches were added to the outdoor dinner setup.
Kate had helped her mom bring out the food while Adriano uncorked a bottle of red wine that Julio had brought from Spain—a smooth Rioja that Rosa declared was "perfect for conversation."
A wooden picnic table stood under a pergola wrapped in white fairy lights, casting a soft glow over the backyard. The scent of grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, and Jeff's famous garlic butter shrimp wafted through the air.
They all gathered around, filling their plates and taking seats as laughter bubbled up before the first fork hit a plate.
"Alright," Jeff said, raising his glass with a grin. "To new beginnings. To family. And to the two people who somehow managed to find love while juggling Hollywood and football stadiums. May your life be less chaotic than your careers."
"Cheers!" everyone echoed, glasses clinking.
Kate leaned her head slightly against Adriano's shoulder, smiling. "I think that's the first quiet toast we've had in months."
He smirked. "Without someone trying to shove a mic in our face, yeah."
Shelly turned toward Rosa, her eyes sparkling. "So tell me—when did you first know Adriano was going to be something special?"
Rosa smiled fondly and reached across the table to touch her son's hand. "When he was six years old, he dribbled past three grown men at a local carnival match. They were just having fun, you know? Street football. But when he scored, he turned and told them, 'You should try harder next time.' I nearly died from embarrassment."
Everyone laughed. Adriano groaned, shaking his head. "Mom, please—no need to start digging into childhood trauma this early."
"You were very confident," Julio added, clearly delighted by the memory. "Once, at eight, he wrote in his school journal that he would win the World Cup and marry a movie star. I still have it."
Kate turned sharply, eyes wide. "Wait. What?"
Julio nodded proudly. "Swear on my life. We'll bring it tomorrow. The drawings are terrible, but the prediction? Very accurate."
Kate burst out laughing. "So this has been the plan all along?"
"I just didn't think the movie star would be real," Adriano muttered. "I thought it would be a very convincing cardboard cutout."
"I had my doubts," Rosa added teasingly, sipping her wine. "Until he met you. Then I thought, 'Ah, maybe the boy was onto something.'"
Kate blushed as Shelly leaned in. "And we loved him, even before they officially got together. He came to visit Kate here after the World Cup. Do you remember that, honey?"
"Don't remind me," Kate groaned. "I was a mess. Barely out of bed, in yoga pants, and he looked like he walked straight out of a Vogue editorial."
"I remember you slamming your door," Jeff said, grinning at Adriano. "Then texting me twenty minutes later saying, 'Okay, maybe he's too good looking.'"
Adriano laughed, feigning offense. "Too good looking is a curse, I've been told."
Shelly shook her head. "We just loved how genuine you were. No ego. Just... kindness."
"Honestly," Rosa said, looking at the Uptons, "this whole thing—it makes me happy. Seeing them together like this. Laughing, comfortable, equal. That's what marriage should be."
Kate looked at Adriano then, her expression softening.
There was a pause—just a moment of stillness where all four parents looked at their children and realized this wasn't just an engagement out of timing or convenience.
This was love, real and deep-rooted.
Then, predictably, Jeff broke the silence.
"Alright, embarrassing story time! It's only fair. Shelly—tell them about Kate and the trampoline."
Kate's eyes widened. "Dad, no. No. Please don't—"
"Oh, it's happening," Shelly said with a mischievous glint. "She was ten. We had a trampoline out back, and she was obsessed with doing flips. One day she yells, 'I'm gonna do a triple twist!' and immediately launches herself—"
"—and lands directly in the bushes," Jeff finished, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his wine.
Kate covered her face with both hands. "I was trying to be Simone Biles before she existed."
Adriano leaned in. "So that's where the Scarlet Witch stunt training came from."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
"I tolerate you."
Rosa leaned across to Shelly, grinning. "They fight like they've already been married ten years."
Shelly winked. "That's how you know it'll last."
Julio, chuckling, raised his glass. "To bushes. And trampolines. And children who believe they can fly."
"To children who shouldn't fly," Kate added, raising hers.
The evening meandered along with more wine, more laughter. Conversations flowed easily. Rosa and Shelly ended up talking about cultural wedding traditions—whether they'd combine Spanish flamenco guitar with a classical string quartet. Jeff offered to bring a barbecue pit to the wedding, "just in case the caterers mess up."
Julio floated the idea of having the ceremony in Mallorca. "By the sea. A small stone church. Maybe a little castle behind it."
Kate leaned toward Adriano. "I mean… a castle does sound pretty perfect."
"Only if there's a moat," he replied. "And maybe a pet dragon."
"Where are we getting a dragon?"
"I know people."
The stars were fully out now, dotting the warm sky above them. Lanterns swayed gently overhead. The bugs hummed in the distance. It was the kind of evening that required no spectacle to be memorable.
Just family. Just stories. Just love.
As the night wore down, plates were cleared, chairs shifted, and Shelly brought out a homemade lemon pie. The group shared one last round of dessert, and slowly, conversation mellowed. The laughter didn't fade, but it softened—like music winding to a close.
Kate stood from the table and stretched, barefoot in the grass now, looking up at the stars.
"This is what I needed," she said quietly. "After everything. Just this."
Adriano joined her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I think I did too."
Behind them, their parents talked and laughed like they'd known each other a lifetime. Two families who, for now, didn't need wedding planners or schedules or press coverage.
They had each other.
And that was more than enough.
****
After the plates were cleared and the last slice of lemon pie had disappeared, the night began to wind down. The patio lights flickered gently in the breeze, and the warmth of the family dinner still lingered in the air like a comforting hug. Adriano and Kate retreated inside, hand in hand, feeling full—both from the food and from the laughter.
The living room was dimly lit, a few candles flickering on the side table, and the soft sound of crickets outside the window filled the silence. Kate grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and tossed it around their shoulders as they sat together on the oversized armchair by the window, curled up side by side. Her legs draped over his lap, his arm around her back.
"Okay," Kate said, unlocking her phone. "Let's go through the guest confirmations before we pass out."
Adriano groaned in mock protest but nodded. "Fine. But you owe me foot rubs after this."
"I already owe you my entire existence for dealing with my relatives tomorrow."
He smirked. "I'll take that trade."
They began scrolling through the guest list, checking in on final RSVPs and confirming who would be flying in. The engagement party wasn't going to be a massive celebrity-packed gala, but even for a private event, it had its share of star power. Still, it was rooted in something far more important: genuine connection.
"Sophia and Lucy are confirmed," Kate said with a smile, reading a text from Sophia that was full of emojis and excited exclamations. "'I have my dress, I've got the wine, and I'm ready to scream when you walk in holding his hand.' Typical Sophia."
Adriano chuckled. "She's been waiting for this moment longer than we have."
"They've both earned front-row seats. Remember Lucy cried during your birthday party because she 'knew' we'd get married someday?"
"And then ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate our totally imaginary future?"
"Exactly."
Adriano took out his own phone, opening up his contacts. "I'm gonna text Henry, see if he's even in the country."
He fired off a message:
"Mate, any chance you're in the US this week? Engagement party in Florida. Would love for you to be there if you're free."
He set the phone down. Less than a minute later, it buzzed.
Henry Cavill: "No way. I'm in Georgia right now, filming for Netflix. I'll rearrange some things. Text me the details—I'll be there."
Adriano blinked at the screen, surprised. "He's in Georgia. Said he'll make it."
Kate looked over his shoulder. "You serious?"
"Apparently Superman still honors bro codes."
"Remind me to thank him with pie tomorrow."
He grinned. "You might be the only person who can lure Henry Cavill with dessert."
"Don't underestimate the power of a good lemon pie."
They moved on to the rest of the list.
"Chris, Scarlett, and Hemsworth?" Adriano asked, raising an eyebrow.
Kate was already typing. "I texted them earlier. Scarlett said she wouldn't miss it, and Hemsworth replied with a gif of Thor holding a bouquet."
Adriano laughed. "And Chris?"
"He just sent a heart emoji and said he's bringing 'his best dancing shoes.' So that's a yes."
"Perfect."
There was a short pause as they reflected on it—how wild it was that their circle now included people like the Avengers. But the truth was, these weren't just co-stars or party guests. These were friends. Real ones. People who'd watched their relationship grow and supported it from the sidelines.
"What about your teammates?" Kate asked gently.
Adriano shook his head. "Most of the squad's out on vacation or international duty. I got a message from Silva, though—he said to 'send pictures, but not of the food,' or he'll cry. There's also Kevin and Hazard along with the rest who sent congratulations."
Kate smiled. "They'll be there in spirit."
He nodded, rubbing her knee gently. "It's not the number. It's who shows up."
They moved on to the family circle.
"My uncle Jeff is coming," Kate said, showing Adriano a text with a thumbs-up emoji and a photo of a Hawaiian shirt. "I think he's planning to wear that."
Adriano groaned dramatically. "The one with the flamingos?"
"Yup."
"God help us all."
Kate laughed and leaned in. "He likes you, you know."
"I know. He called me 'champ' and slapped my back like I was his college roommate."
"And that's love."
Shelly and Jeff had also invited a few family friends—neighbors, long-time friends from church, a couple of former colleagues. The guest list hovered around fifty. Enough to feel festive, not so many that it lost intimacy. Everyone either knew them personally or had watched their journey unfold with genuine affection.
They checked the final list together, adding notes, making small tweaks—Kate marking who was vegetarian, Adriano making sure there were enough chairs set aside near the fire pit.
By the time they closed their phones and exhaled, it was almost midnight.
Kate yawned, stretching her arms overhead before settling into Adriano's chest. "This is happening, isn't it?"
He kissed the top of her head. "It's been happening."
"But it's all... real now. Our families, our friends. Lemon pie."
He chuckled. "The pillars of any successful marriage."
Kate tilted her head to look up at him. "Thank you for being here. Not just physically—like, really being here."
Adriano's expression softened, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. "You're my home. Wherever you are, that's where I want to be."
She smiled, cupped his face, and kissed him softly.
"Okay," she whispered, pulling away. "Time for bed. Big day tomorrow. You're gonna have to dance, by the way."
"I'm already dreading it."
"You'll be fine. Just follow my lead."
"And if I step on your foot?"
"I'll sue you for emotional damages."
He grinned. "I'll call Henry to be my lawyer."
Hand in hand, they headed upstairs, the house now quiet, save for the soft creaking of wood under their steps. They changed into pajamas—Kate in an old university t-shirt, Adriano in a pair of shorts and nothing else. Once under the covers, they lay facing each other in the soft dark, the hum of a ceiling fan filling the silence.
Kate scooted closer, her fingers finding his.
"Weird to say," she murmured, "but I'm not nervous."
He kissed her forehead. "That's not weird. That's love."
They fell asleep in each other's arms, the house holding its breath for tomorrow. The party would be full of laughter, dancing, heartfelt speeches, and probably a few happy tears.
But for now, it was quiet.
And perfect.
****
May 31st, 2015 – Upton Residence, Melbourne, Florida
Engagement Party
The Florida sun rose over the Upton home like a quiet promise. By noon, the backyard had been transformed into something out of a magazine spread—simple, charming, and unmistakably personal. Strung between trees were delicate strings of white bulbs that would glow come nightfall, and round tables were set up under canvas tents, dressed in linen tablecloths with fresh wildflowers in mason jars at the center.
There was no ceremony planned—no rings. That part had already happened, unexpectedly and beautifully, weeks earlier when Adriano scored the winning goal in the Champions League final and dropped to one knee right after getting the trophy. Today was just about celebrating that love. And the people who had watched it grow.
Inside, the mood was electric but casual. The kitchen bustled with the smells of freshly grilled seafood, roasted vegetables, and lemon tarts. Shelly was giving instructions to the caterers while sneaking bites from the cheese board. Jeff had stationed himself at the grill outside, declaring war on any shrimp that didn't char perfectly.
Kate stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the delicate lace hem of her light peach summer dress. Her hair was curled loosely, pinned back just enough to show off the tiny rose-gold studs Adriano had given her that morning. She looked radiant but grounded—like someone perfectly comfortable in the spotlight, yet still humbled by the moment.
Adriano leaned against the doorframe behind her, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, navy trousers, and a gold-buckled belt that matched the subtle shine of his watch.
"You ready?" he asked, watching her with a soft smile.
Kate turned, looked him up and down, and smiled. "You clean up well."
He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. "If this is what every engagement party looks like, I'm going to start proposing more often."
She snorted. "Try that and I'll poison your lemonade."
He kissed her cheek. "Fair enough."
Out in the yard, the first few guests had already arrived. Sophia and Lucy were among the earliest, walking in with matching sunglasses and barely concealed glee. Sophia immediately broke into a squeal when she saw Kate emerge.
"There she is!" Sophia rushed forward and practically tackled her in a hug. "The fiancée. The woman of the hour. The girl who locked down the most eligible man on three continents."
Kate laughed. "You're being dramatic."
Lucy appeared right behind her, eyes sparkling. "Oh, she's not. You should've seen us during the Champions League final. We were screaming louder than the actual fans."
Adriano chuckled, shaking his head. "I could hear you through the TV, I think."
"Would've been louder if we knew you were about to propose," Lucy said, grinning.
Just then, the unmistakable voice of Henry Cavill echoed from the gate. "Am I late or just fashionably on time?"
Adriano turned, eyebrows raised. "You made it."
Henry strode in, all charm and grace in a charcoal suit with no tie, his sleeves casually cuffed. "You think I'd miss a party involving the only footballer who made me scream at my screen like a fanboy?"
He gave Adriano a quick hug before offering Kate a kiss on the cheek. "You look stunning. You both do."
Kate smiled warmly. "Thanks for coming. Did you really reschedule a shoot to be here?"
"I told them it was a national emergency," Henry deadpanned. "The kind involving romance and shrimp skewers."
Sophia walked towards them and spoke witha wink, " Hey there stranger. Did you remember me ?"
Henry chuckled and embraced her, " How could I when you keep texting everyday."
Adriano raised his eyebrow, " Huh. Everyday you say. Looks like someone's been busy."
Kate was also surprised, " Really Soph? Trying to get cozy with Superman so he can sweep you off your feet?"
Sophia blushed and pinched Kate , " Focus on your party ! There's nothing to dig here."
Henry also coughed and looked around, " the decorations look nice."
Adriano chuckled, " Alright, alright. Keep your secrets. Just don't forget who brought you guys together when deciding baby names."
More guests began to trickle in. Chris Hemsworth arrived next, carrying a bottle of wine and shouting, "Oi! I brought the nectar of the gods!"
Scarlett Johansson showed up moments later in a breezy black dress, sunglasses perched on her head, smiling like someone walking into her best friend's backyard—because she was.
Chris Evans followed behind her, already pulling Adriano into a quick hug before offering Kate a heartfelt, "Congrats, lovebirds."
"You guys didn't have to come, I know you are still busy with the promos." Kate said, moved by their presence.
"Didn't have to," Scarlett replied. "Wanted to. Big difference."
Out by the tables, Adriano's parents were deep in conversation with Kate's uncle Jeff, laughing over stories that bounced between Madrid and Florida. Julio was retelling an old tale about Adriano getting stuck in a net at age twelve, while Rosa nodded along, occasionally adding corrections .
Shelly emerged with a tray of sangria, handing glasses to guests as they mingled. She pulled Kate aside with a beaming smile.
"Sweetheart, this is perfect."
Kate hugged her mom. "Thank you for making it perfect."
"I just set the table. The rest is all you two."
Music played from a Bluetooth speaker hidden under one of the tables—soft indie melodies that matched the afternoon's golden mood. Adriano and Henry stood by the grill, arguing over which football team Henry would support now that he was technically part of the 'in-law circle.'
"Manchester City, obviously," Adriano insisted.
Henry made a face. "You don't think that's... too mainstream?"
"It's loyalty," Adriano shot back. "You're basically family. There are rules."
Kate, overhearing the exchange, shook her head and leaned toward Lucy. "This is what happens when actors and athletes mix—philosophy over team jerseys."
Sophia laughed. "And somehow, it's still adorable."
As the sun dipped lower, Jeff clanged a spoon against a glass.
"Alright folks!" he called out. "Before the real dancing starts and Chris Hemsworth ends up shirtless again—"
"I make no promises," Hemsworth called from across the yard.
Jeff chuckled. "Let's raise a glass to these two. To Adriano and Kate—who remind us that love doesn't care if you live across an ocean or speak different first languages or belong to different worlds. What matters is how you show up for each other. Every day."
A round of clinks followed. Even Adriano looked briefly emotional, his hand closing gently around Kate's.
As night took over, the fairy lights came alive. The music turned livelier. Tables were pushed back to create a makeshift dance floor. And yes—Scarlett and Chris Evans managed to rope Adriano into a dance-off that included some impressively awful moves and loud cheering.
Kate stood off to the side, sipping a drink, watching it all unfold with a smile that reached her eyes.
"He fits in here," Shelly said beside her.
Kate looked at her mom. "I know."
Then came the first notes of a familiar song—something slow, timeless. A classic Sinatra ballad.
Kate turned toward Adriano, her eyes lighting up like she was hearing it for the first time.
"Well," she said, holding out her hand with a subtle, teasing grin, "I suppose I'm required to have a dance with my fiancé."
Adriano smiled and took her hand without hesitation. "Duty calls."
They moved to the center of the lawn where an impromptu dance floor had been cleared between the trees. Guests circled the space, drinks in hand, watching as the couple began to sway gently in sync, the music curling around them like smoke.
Kate rested her head lightly against Adriano's chest, her arms wrapped around his back, his around her waist. For a long moment, they didn't speak. The sounds of the party faded behind them. It was just the rhythm, the softness of the air, and the feeling of being exactly where they were meant to be.
Then, she whispered against his chest, barely loud enough to be heard, "This is just perfect."
Adriano smiled, tilting his head slightly so his chin brushed against her temple. He didn't speak—he just held her tighter, letting the warmth of the moment wash over him. His fingers curled lightly at the small of her back. They moved slowly, no rush, no pressure. Just them, dancing under the lights, surrounded by people who loved them.
Near the tables, their parents danced too—Jeff and Shelly in their usual rhythm, Shelly resting her head against Jeff's shoulder, while Julio twirled Rosa in a surprisingly elegant step that made a few onlookers smile.
"Didn't know your dad had moves," Kate murmured.
Adriano grinned. "Neither did I. I'm calling foul."
Further across the yard, the Marvel trio of Chris Hemsworth and Chris Evans had gotten into a lively conversation with Henry Cavill and Lucy, all of them laughing loudly over something no one else could hear.
Until Sophia stepped in.
"Alright, pretty boys," she said with her signature spark, "enough talking about swords and muscles. One of you is coming with me."
She pointed at Henry, who raised his brows. "Me?"
"Yes, you," she replied. "You've been hiding behind this British politeness all night. Time to see if Superman can dance."
Henry glanced briefly at Adriano and gave him a helpless shrug before offering Sophia his hand. "Well, I suppose I don't stand a chance."
"You don't," Sophia replied with a wink.
As they moved onto the dance floor, laughing, Lucy leaned toward Chris Evans and said, "She's been plotting that all week."
"Not surprised," he said. "This feels suspiciously like matchmaking in real time."
Back near the garden's edge, Adriano gently pulled back from Kate after their third slow song.
"Need some air," he said softly.
She nodded, brushing his cheek with her fingers. "Don't wander too far. I need you for my second round of dancing with a human tree."
He laughed. "You love the tree."
As Adriano walked away, he found himself near the side of the yard where the lights were dimmer, filtered by tall palms and overgrown shrubs. The music faded behind him as the soft hum of cicadas took over.
Then, just past a tree with low branches, he noticed movement—two figures standing close, framed by shadows and soft light.
It was Sophia and Henry.
They were kissing.
And not the awkward, testing kind. It was deep, unhurried. Honest. The kind of kiss that silences everything around you.
Adriano blinked, about to step away quietly when his foot landed squarely on a dried branch. The crack echoed like gunfire in the quiet.
Henry and Sophia jumped apart instantly.
Sophia looked like she'd just been caught sneaking out of class. Henry looked slightly dazed—like someone had just pulled the fire alarm mid-dream.
Adriano raised both hands, grinning like the devil. "Oh, don't let me stop you. Please. Carry on, youth. Just remember—protection. So important these days."
Sophia burst out laughing, clinging to Henry's arm for balance.
Henry shook his head. "I swear, one day I'm going to break that smug look off your face in Warhammer."
"Good luck with that," Adriano said, walking backward with a mock salute. "I'm undefeated in emotional blackmail."
As he returned to the main party, the laughter and chatter had begun to wind down. Some of the older guests were saying their goodbyes, offering hugs and well-wishes.
Scarlett hugged Kate and murmured something in her ear that made her eyes glisten slightly. Chris Hemsworth handed over a ridiculous "Super Fiancé" pin that he claimed he found at the Orlando airport gift shop. Chris Evans left with a final promise to host a beach BBQ once they all had a break from filming, football, and fanfare.
Gradually, the crowd thinned.
Kate's uncle Jeff gave Adriano a pat on the back and whispered, "You're part of this madness now. Welcome aboard."
Rosa kissed Kate on both cheeks before slipping her a tiny photo of Adriano as a chubby baby holding a football. "Use it wisely," she whispered conspiratorially.
Julio just smiled, the proud father, the quiet rock. He hugged his son tight and simply said, "She's the one."
By the time it was just a handful of them left—Sophia, Lucy, Henry, the parents—everyone pitched in to clean up. The lanterns were switched off one by one, tables folded, chairs stacked, leftovers packed into Tupperware by Shelly with ruthless efficiency.
Finally, everything was still.
Adriano and Kate stepped inside, tired but glowing. After a quick, quiet shower together—one filled with warm water, steam, and soft laughter—they crawled into bed, limbs tangled like they'd been made to fit.
Kate rested her head against his chest, fingers drawing lazy circles on his ribs.
He lay there, one arm wrapped around her, staring at the ceiling.
Thinking.
Not about football. Not about press. Not about the Marvel event or the party or the surprise kiss he accidentally walked in on.
He just thought about life.
And how, somehow, it had all led him here.
****
The ceiling above him was dark, the only light coming from the moon bleeding through the curtains. Adriano's arm rested securely around Kate, her cheek nestled against his bare chest, breath warm and slow.
He watched the gentle rise and fall of her back, fingers lightly grazing along the curve of her hips. She looked at peace. And he… he felt more grounded in this moment than he had in a long time.
It was strange, how life unfolded. Two years ago, he wasn't Adriano Riveiro. He wasn't anyone, really—just a guy living an ordinary, quiet life. One day bled into the next. There was comfort in that monotony, but no meaning. No purpose. Then everything changed.
He still remembered the night he woke up in this new body, the moonlight streaming through unfamiliar blinds, the reflection in the mirror no longer his. The panic had been real—palms sweating, mind racing, questioning his own sanity.
He expected to wake up again, to snap out of it. He thought maybe it was some twisted dream or a coma fantasy. But days turned into weeks. And the world didn't correct itself. Instead, it handed him a second chance.
And what a chance it had been.
From the start, he hadn't wanted to waste it. He'd told himself he would live freely, without hesitation. But freedom hadn't meant recklessness—it meant purpose.
That's why he had committed himself to this new life. He treated Rosa and Julio like they were his real parents, because in a way, they were. They loved him without condition, and he made sure they were never left wanting.
Then came the grind.
The system—his so-called advantage—was both a blessing and a curse. It gave him the templates, sure: Kroos for vision and control, Nedved for relentless energy, Pele for pure magic.
But combining them hadn't been as easy as plugging in stats. He had to work. Every day. Train like a madman, study matches, push himself to exhaustion. It was like trying to blend poetry, fire, and steel into one complete song.
Somehow, over two years, he'd done it.
He chuckled quietly, remembering Malaga.
They were never supposed to win. Everyone called them a side project, a stepping stone.
But with him, they became giants. La Liga, Copa del Rey—two titles that rewrote the club's history. He remembered those nights. The noise, the tears, the feeling of lifting a trophy while the world looked on in disbelief.
Then came the World Cup. The ultimate proving ground. He hadn't just shown up—he'd dominated. Alongside Ronaldo, he brought Portugal its first World Cup trophy.
He could still hear the roar of the stadium, the surreal weight of that medal around his neck, the moment he collapsed on the pitch knowing he had crossed into legend.
Manchester City followed. 150 million euros. A fee that carried the weight of expectation.
But the club hadn't bought just a player—they'd bought into him. Into his vision. They let him help build the squad. And what followed? A Premier League title. A Champions League win. Golden Boots, assists, accolades. Records shattered. No ego—just results.
And alongside all of that, her.
Kate.
He turned slightly, brushing her hair behind her ear. She shifted faintly but didn't wake.
She was never supposed to be here either.
Not in this way. In his old world, she was a model—admired for her beauty, but never quite finding her place. Just another pretty face in a cruel industry. But now? Now she was becoming a star. A real one. The Scarlett Witch, the scene-stealer in the biggest franchise on Earth. Bold. Powerful. Admired for more than her looks.
And she was his. Not just in title, not just for headlines. She chose him every day. Through all the madness, all the noise, she stayed.
They had bantered, laughed, built a life piece by piece. And when he dropped to one knee after that final whistle, she said yes like there was no other answer in the world.
But beneath the contentment, a quiet question stirred.
What had he changed?
It wasn't just his life—it was everyone's.
Malaga wasn't a fluke anymore; they were a legitimate Champions League threat. Portugal had tasted global triumph which they were never meant to.
Manchester City had leapfrogged their timeline. Talents like Kane, Hazard, and Salah—players who had once waited years in vain for glory—were now winners, their stories rewritten.
Then there were the more personal shifts. Kate, now beloved by millions for something far greater than beauty. Henry Cavill, possibly heading into something serious with Sophia—a woman he probably never even knew in his past life's timeline.
A ripple here, a tremor there. What would it all mean down the line?
Would his interference have consequences?
He didn't know.
Maybe there would be backlash. Maybe history was meant to follow a script, and he'd torn out entire chapters. But even if that was true… would he change anything?
He looked down at the woman lying on him, her breath soft, fingers lightly curled around the fabric of his shirt. He thought of his parents—both sets. The way they'd laughed tonight, shared wine, shared stories.
The way Henry and Sophia had kissed under a tree like they were living in a movie. The way fans had cheered for him. The way the world had welcomed him not as a visitor—but as someone who belonged.
No.
He wouldn't change a thing.
The future could come however it wanted. He'd face it. He'd fight it. He'd live it.
Because he wasn't lost anymore.
He was Adriano Riveiro—the man who conquered two worlds. The king of Football. The partner of someone extraordinary. A loving son, A good friend, A legend in the making.
And as sleep began to settle over him, his final thought was quiet but resolute:
This was his legacy.
And it had only just begun.