Chapter Text
"Iker, you can’t take care of that child!" she shouted, pointing at the little girl lying on the sofa. Dressed in pink, Alice was sleeping peacefully with her curly hair scattered over her face, unaware of how her life had just taken a different turn.
"And why not?"
It was a beautiful day in Salamanca. The sun streamed through the closed windows of the white room, and the birds sang outside.
Not that they could be heard by them.
On the gurney in the middle of the room, Ester had just woken up. She tried to take a deep breath, but the devices in her nasal passages prevented her from doing so. She wanted to get up and look for her daughter, but she didn’t have the strength. Instead, she remained lying down, murmuring in frustration.
Next to the gurney, in an armchair, a twenty‐year‐old man lay with a two‐year‐old girl in his arms. They were both asleep—Alice because of the time, and Iker because of the sleepless night he’d had. Ester smiled as she observed the scene. Her daughter and her best friend were the best company she could have by her deathbed.
Ester was not a pessimistic person, nor did she wish to die. Of all the things she’d done at such a young age, dying at twenty‐two would be the only thing she’d regret. If there were regrets after death, of course.
"Look, the sleepyhead has woken up!" — Iker joked in a drowsy tone. "How are you feeling today?"
"My whole body aches and I can’t move. This light coming through the window is almost blinding me, and I can’t breathe properly. Yeah, I guess I’m feeling just the same as always."
"Don’t be so grumpy, Ester."
"I wish that what I feel were merely my own exaggeration."
Silence fell over the room for a few minutes.
"Isn’t the treatment healing it at all?"
"Well, I suppose it must be. I’m not hallucinating as I should, and I can manage to eat something."
"The only thing you ate yesterday was a piece of apple."
"At least I managed to eat something!" — she insisted. And once again, silence. It wasn’t worth arguing with someone as stubborn as Ester.
"You should get treated in Madrid. They have better therapies and your family will be closer. "— Iker suggested.
She laughed ironically.
"What family? The only people I have are you and Alice, Iker. My parents know I’m sick and they couldn’t care less."
"You could move to my house..."
"And spend the entire day receiving judgmental looks from your mother? Thanks a lot, but I’d rather die here. At least no one bothers me." he sighed deeply. She wasn’t wrong about her mother.
"I just wanted to find a solution. I’m sorry."
"No, stop with that. I should be the one apologizing. You’re on vacation, and instead of being in Ibiza having fun with your friends, you’re stuck in this godforsaken place listening to someone on the brink of death."
"Ester, please..." — Iker searched for something to say—anything that wouldn’t bring his illness into the conversation. — "Self-pity has never been your strong suit. I came here because I wanted to, because I wanted to see you and my niece, alright?"
"Alright." she replied with a smile, though she knew it was a lie. "But if something happens while you’re in Madrid..."
"Ester..."
"No, now it’s your turn to listen to me." Iker took a deep breath and nodded. "If I’m not here for your next vacation, I want you to remember a few things. You’re on the best team in the world, but you still have so much to conquer. Don’t let fame or money go to your head. I know it’s not in your nature, but you never know. When you’re about to cross over to another world, make sure people remember you for the wonderful person you are, and not merely for being the best goalkeeper Real Madrid has ever had."
"How exaggerated... I think you’re hallucinating."
"I told you to shut up." he snapped. Iker let out a weak laugh. "And besides... don’t worry so much; you tend to be too intense. There will come a time when people will talk about you—the press will, and maybe even the fans. Be strong and keep giving your best. Most of the time, the criticism isn’t worth listening to."
"But wasn’t it you who just said you didn’t want to be judged by my mother?"
"Iker!And off the field, you’re young now. But there will come a time when you’ll be tired of hiding, tired of the girlfriends the journalists point out for you. You’ll find a man who loves you more than anything, and he won’t want to live in the shadows. The world isn’t exactly sympathetic to people like you—like us—but have courage and show who you are. If I had done that, many things wouldn’t have happened."
He smiled and nodded, quickly understanding what she meant. If Ester had come out, she wouldn’t have met Afonso. Without Afonso, she wouldn’t have suffered so many torments. Without Afonso, she would still be healthy.
"You wouldn’t have had Alice if life hadn’t unfolded the way it did." she smiled.
"No, I wouldn’t have. But she also wouldn’t have gone through so much. She wouldn’t have had grandparents who don’t love her, nor parents who are already gone."
"You’re still alive."
"I’m surviving." he retorted, wiping away a tear that had slipped down his cheek. "I want to ask you one thing, Iker. The first thing since we met. Take care of Alice just as well as you took care of me."
"Ester..."
"I know it’s a very selfish request—to ask you to dedicate a piece of your life to someone who doesn’t even share your blood. But please, take care of her. She adores you, and I know you adore her too. Be the mentor that Afonso and I can never be."
Thousands of thoughts raced through the Madrilenian’s mind, but when he looked at Alice in his arms—so vulnerable, clutching her t-shirt as if she didn’t want to leave—he couldn’t say anything else.
"Alright. I’ll take care of her." Ester smiled as she hadn’t in months.
"Thank you, Iker. That’s the best thing you’ve ever promised me."
"Then now I’ll promise you something even better." Iker said, pushing the armchair closer to the edge of the gurney so they could be nearer to each other. "You still have a long life ahead. You’ll take care of your daughter and manage to graduate in Arts. You’ll make peace with your parents and find someone who loves you dearly. And oh, you’ll also reach the age when you’ll have enough moral authority to give me all these pieces of advice."
Ester laughed and nudged Iker’s shoulder with the little strength she had.
That was the last time they spoke.
A few minutes later, Alice woke up hungry. Iker got up and scooped her into his arms to head to the cafeteria with her. On the way back, as the goalkeeper helped her drink her apple juice, a battalion of people dressed in white entered the room ahead of him. Iker swallowed hard.
"Uncle Ikle, I can’t see Mommy..." Alice said as she tried to lean forward to see the gurney.
"Turn on the defibrillator, now!" one of the doctors shouted.
"Come on, let’s take a walk and then go back to see Mommy, alright?" without waiting for Alice’s reply, Iker carried the little girl out of the room. They went to the hospital garden, with him dreading the questions that might come from the girl. Fortunately, Alice spotted a bird in flight and got distracted. In Iker’s mind, however, that image would stay forever.
The confirmation of her death came shortly after—in the middle of the hospital corridor, in the most delicate way possible. Alice played with a doll, hearing everything yet not understanding a word of what was happening. Iker, respecting the child’s innocence, held back his tears as much as he could. It was for the best.
Organizing a funeral was the saddest thing the goalkeeper had ever done. Seeing the few people he had to invite—the minimal number that didn’t represent even a third of what Ester deserved as someone who had been loved—made him suffer internally.
Preparing a little girl for her own mother’s funeral, without her even knowing what was happening, shattered every remaining piece of him that was still intact.
Ester’s father went. Her mother did not. And he refused to even know the reason. Refusing to attend his daughter’s funeral was a petty, prideful act not worth mentioning.
When it was over, as the body of his best friend was lowered into the ground, Iker somehow felt grateful. First, because that torture was over. Then, because Ester would finally have peace.
Iker and Alice went to Madrid as quickly as they could. The judge authorized that the little girl could stay with “uncle” during the adoption process. God bless the expensive lawyer Guti got for Iker—and to the girl’s grandparents, who made it abundantly clear how much they rejected their granddaughter.
That’s when we arrive at the Casillas’ house.
"Why not?" Maria Del Carmo, Iker’s mother, laughed sarcastically. "You still ask why, Iker? You’re twenty, living with your parents, with a football career ahead of you! How do you plan on taking care of a child under these conditions?"
"Exactly because I can take care of her! In the beginning, I might need some help, but which first-time parent doesn’t? I spoke with Hierro and..."
"You spoke with your teammates before talking to me? This is turning into a farce!"
"He said I could leave training early when needed,"Iker continued as if his mother hadn’t spoken "and that he’d give me his nanny’s number. We can make it work."
"We? Did you consult 'us' before making a decision that will change the rest of your life?" his mother shouted again. "Raising a child is hard, Iker! You have to provide education, food, a proper environment, and good values. It’s a choice that must be made responsibly—not on a whim."
"Well, sorry if I was too emotional when fulfilling my best friend’s dying wish." he retorted with irony. "You know what’s funny? There was no 'us' when we moved into this house, or when Dad stopped working, or when you bought that new purse. And look, it was all with my money! Seems like we’re even, doesn’t it?"
"Iker Casillas Fernández, don’t you dare throw these things in your mother’s face!" Maria’s eyes filled with tears. Of course she would cry—how else did he expect? "If it weren’t for your father and me working hard, you wouldn’t even be in Real Madrid’s youth academy. You owe us everything! I built your career, and I won’t let you destroy it because of a little brat of a..."
"Don’t you dare finish that sentence." he gritted his teeth, trying to control his anger. This had been the problem with Ester from the start: her family was Romani. The two had met when they were six years old in the Basque Country, building sandcastles in the city park. When Maria Del Carmo saw them, she pulled her son away from the little girl as if she were a ticking time bomb strapped to his waist about to explode. Their friendship continued nonetheless, albeit always heavily reprimanded by Iker’s mother. "I’m going to take care of Alice with or without your approval. If your answer is 'no', I’ll do this far from here."
"Is this… is this an ultimatum?" she asked in disbelief. There were no tears left on her face, only the anger of being contradicted. "Then I have one too. If you leave through that door, you’ll never come back. Not even when your career is over and that little monster turns into something worse than her mother ever was—because that’s exactly what will happen. And, as always happens, you’ll run back to me."
The anger Iker felt was strong enough to make him think of things he’d never do, say things he would later regret, act in ways that could never be undone. So he did the most sensible thing he could: he got up from the sofa, picked up the still-sleeping Alice, and walked toward the door.
"Iker! Come back here!"
"I’ll ask Gómez to get my things tomorrow. Tell Unaí that I’ll see him at school whenever I can."
After these words, the dark-haired man walked to the door without looking back, carrying a mix of despair and a freedom that felt like the best of both worlds. But before leaving, he felt the need to say one last thing.
"Oh, and by the way... I’m gay."
"What? Iker, come back here now!"
But he never came back.