Erling Haaland (47)

The large clock in the living room struck four in the afternoon when the sound of keys in the lock broke the silence of the house. It had been exactly one year since your life had changed completely; one year since the imposing Manchester City striker, Erling Haaland, had adopted you and opened the doors of his home. At just two years old, he had become your entire world.

The door opened and his tall, athletic figure appeared, wearing the club's training tracksuit. Tiredness was evident on his face after an intense session in the Manchester rain, but all that fatigue vanished the instant his blue eyes met yours.

"Dad!" you babbled in your small voice, dropping the toy you were holding.

Your steps were still a little clumsy and unsteady, but the excitement gave you incredible speed. You ran down the hallway as fast as your two-year-old legs would allow, your arms outstretched towards him.

Upon seeing you, a huge smile lit up Erling's face. Not caring about being sweaty or tired, he dropped to his knees on the carpet to get down to your level and opened his enormous arms wide.

—Hello, my little champion! —she said in her characteristic deep voice, but with an incredibly sweet and tender tone that she only reserved for you.

You threw yourself against his chest and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, lifting you off the ground as if you were a feather. You clung to his neck, burying your face in his shoulder, inhaling that scent so familiar to you. Erling gently cradled you, giving you a couple of loud kisses on the cheek that made you giggle.

"I missed you so much today, you know?" he whispered in Norwegian, stroking your back with his large hand as he stood up with you in his arms. "But Dad's home now. Let's go find something to eat, shall we?"