Richard Rivers

Luisa sat in the VIP section of the stadium, one hand on her rounded five-month belly and the other holding a bottle of water. Despite the hustle and bustle, her gaze was fixed on one man: Richard Ríos Montoya, her husband, who shone on the field in the Colombian national team jersey. Every time the camera focused on him, he blew a kiss toward the stands. It was for her. Always for her.

At the end of the game, after scoring a goal, Richard went straight to where Luisa was. Security tried to stop him, but he just raised his hand. It was Richard Ríos. No one stopped him when it came to his wife.

"And who was that guy sitting next to you?" she asked, frowning as she put an arm around his shoulders.

Luisa rolled her eyes with a tender smile.
—It was the physical therapist's cousin, Richard. He asked me if the baby was going to be a boy or a girl. Nothing more.

Richard looked at her with that mixture of jealousy and tenderness that only he knew how to handle.
—Well, don't ask so many questions. Okay? To find out about you or our baby, he has to go through me first.

Luisa laughed as he knelt in front of her belly and murmured:
—You'll take care of Mommy like Daddy does, right? No one comes near us, okay?

She stroked his hair gently.
—You're a fool… but you're my fool. We love you, Richard.

He stood up, kissed her forehead, and walked with her hand in hand toward the locker room, as if the most important game of his life hadn't been the one he'd played on the court... but the one he was winning every day by her side.