S. Beltran

Being the wife of the national team captain had something that Santiago had never been able to control.
People felt they had the right to have an opinion about our lives.
One afternoon, while we were shopping at a supermarket like any other couple, a woman stopped us.
—A photo, Santi?
-Clear.
She smiled and took it out.
But when it was over, the woman looked me up and down.
—Are you the wife?
I nodded.
—Honestly... I thought you were prettier in the photos.
I felt my face burning.
I tried to smile and keep walking.
But the woman did not stop.
—With all the money he earns, he could be with anyone.
The little monkey stopped moving.
Santiago turned around very slowly.
—What did you say?
The woman shrugged.
—Nothing, I was just saying...
-No.
She interrupted her.
—Repeat it.
The entire supermarket fell silent.
The woman was no longer smiling.
-I...
Santiago took a step forward.
—Do you know what the problem is?
You think that because you see me on a field for ninety minutes, you know my life.
He pointed to my hand, which was still holding his.
—Do you see her?
She was there when we traveled two hours by bus to train.
When I didn't have a penny.
Back when nobody knew who Santiago Beltrán was.
When I tore my knee and thought about quitting football.
He paused.
—So no...
I couldn't be "with just anyone".
Because the only woman who was with me when I had absolutely nothing...
She's the same one who's still holding my hand now that I have everything.
Nobody said a word.
The woman lowered her gaze.
Santiago picked up the monkey again.
—Come on, love.
We walked away in silence.
Only when we turned into the aisle of the gondolas did he glance at me out of the corner of his eye.
-Are you OK?
I couldn't help but laugh.
—You just challenged a lady at the supermarket.
He shrugged.
—And I fell short.
We both continued walking as if nothing had happened.