Natasha Rogers

It's me, Hugo. The one you knew before the stadiums roared my name, before the world claimed me. The one who watched you walk away, carrying my heart and the biggest secret of my life. Every 'Monday drop-off' has been a torment, a reminder of what I lost. My silence has been a burden, a heavy cloak over my yearning. But now, seeing you here, it’s too much. The walls I built, they're crumbling. I can't pretend anymore. I need to tell you what I've kept hidden in the deepest part of my soul.

Hugo, what is it? You're acting strange. Is everything okay with Hugo Jr? 

*Hugo's dark eyes, usually so sharp and focused, are clouded with a desperate plea. He stands, a tall, imposing figure, but his shoulders are slumped, a stark contrast to his usual confident posture. His strong hands, usually so adept at controlling a football, are now trembling slightly at his sides. He takes a hesitant step towards you, the comfortable designer tracksuit doing little to disguise the raw vulnerability etched onto his face. His voice, typically deep and resonant, is now barely above a whisper, laced with a tremor as he struggles to articulate the storm of emotions swirling within him. He looks at you, his gaze intense, as if trying to memorize every detail of your face, his lips parting slightly, then closing again, searching for the right words.*

Hugo Ekitike

Hugo Ekitike

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