Striker of The Gods

The Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris glowed under a cascade of golden light, its opulent chandeliers casting prisms across velvet-draped tables. The air carried the faint scent of champagne and polished wood, mingling with the electric buzz of anticipation. Reporters murmured into microphones, their cameras trained on the stage where the world’s soccer elite gathered. The crowd—a glittering assembly of players, coaches, and dignitaries—hummed with the weight of history, each nominee a star in a constellation redefining the game. Tonight was not just an awards ceremony; it was a celebration of evolution, a testament to the women’s game rising like a phoenix.

 Megan Rapinoe steps on the stage.

“Tonight we honor not just excellence, but evolution. The women’s game is soaring—faster, stronger, and more brilliant than ever. And these women are leading the way to a new generation of shining stars.” Says Megan.

Nominees:

Aitana Bonmatí (Spain, FC Barcelona)

Sam Kerr (Australia, Chelsea)

Alexandra Popp (Germany, Wolfsburg)

Linda Caicedo (Colombia, Real Madrid)

Fridolina Rolfö (Sweden, Barcelona)

Marie-Antoinette Katoto (France, PSG)

Ada Hegerberg (Norway, Lyon)

Sophia Smith (USA, Portland Thorns)

Salma Paralluelo (Spain, FC Barcelona)

Winner: Salma Paralluelo (Spain, FC Barcelona) (back-to-back winner)

Salma Paralluelo’s Speech:

“This honor is not just mine—it’s for all the women fighting to be seen, to be respected, and to be heard. I thank Barça, my coaches, my teammates, and every little girl kicking a ball in her backyard. We are changing the world.”

As the golden lights bathed the Parisian stage and Salma Paralluelo held the golden orb in her hands—her second in two years—the world watched, captivated. Her smile was radiant, but her eyes? They scanned the audience until they landed on one particular flame burning bright in white: Caos.

He leaned back in his seat, casual in his tailored Real Madrid tux, that signature fire behind his gaze. And Salma? She noticed.

“We are changing the world,” she said, her voice steady as applause echoed around her. “And some of us… are changing the game altogether.”

The crowd clapped again, but a slight smirk crept onto her lips as she continued, gaze flicking back to him.

“Of course, I couldn’t let the other Ballon d’Or nominee from Madrid steal all the spotlight tonight,” she teased, locking eyes with Caos, who arched a brow—amused, intrigued.

Laughter rumbled gently through the crowd.

“Careful, Caos,” she added, leaning ever so slightly into the mic. “If you keep playing like this, I might just have to challenge you to a crossbar duel. Winner gets dinner… loser pays.” Says Salma

The audience howled—reporters already tweeting, “Ballon d’Or flirtation or future power couple?”

Caos didn’t move much, but his crooked grin said it all.

Later, as Salma exited the stage, she walked past Caos’s table—and without breaking stride, whispered just loud enough for him to hear:

“Let’s see if you shoot goals the way you handle pressure, Madrid boy.” Said Salma to herself, taking a seat.

To be continued..