TITLE: CR7’s Lament
INT. LUXURY APARTMENT – NIGHT
Cristiano Ronaldo sits alone in his lavish living room. The lights are dim, and the city skyline glimmers through the floor-to-ceiling windows. A TV in the background plays a sports talk show, where pundits dissect his latest performance with biting criticism.
Cristiano mutes the TV, his jaw tightening. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. On the coffee table in front of him lies a stack of tabloid newspapers, each headline more mocking than the last:
- “CR7’s Ego Bigger Than His Trophy Cabinet!”
- “The Neck That Never Stops Nodding!”
- “Ronaldo’s Apple: The Real MVP?”
He picks up one of the papers, staring at the caricature of his Adam’s apple drawn grotesquely oversized. His fingers tighten, crumpling the page.
CRISTIANO RONALDO
(softly, to himself)
“Goal after goal after goal… and still, it’s never enough.”
He tosses the paper aside and stands, pacing the room.
CRISTIANO RONALDO
(raising his voice)
“I give everything—every match, every training session. I’ve given them moments they’ll talk about for decades. And this… this is how they repay me? Insults? Mockery?”
He stops in front of the window, his reflection staring back at him. He touches his throat, his fingers brushing over his Adam’s apple.
CRISTIANO RONALDO
(whispering)
“Even this… they make fun of this.”
Cristiano clenches his fists, his voice growing steadier, filled with a mix of frustration and resolve.
CRISTIANO RONALDO
“When my contract is up, I’m done. I’m leaving this circus. No more cameras, no more headlines. I’ll go to the one city that never insults me.”
He turns away from the window, walking back to the coffee table. He picks up a sleek black notebook and flips it open, revealing pages filled with plans, maps, and diagrams.
CRISTIANO RONALDO
(cryptically)
“The city where the grid is smart, where everything is connected. Big Brother is watching all of you… but not me. Not anymore.”
He closes the notebook with a decisive snap, his expression hardening.
CRISTIANO RONALDO
(to himself)
“I’ve carried their expectations, their insults, their jealousy. But soon, I’ll carry only myself. Let them watch from their screens while I live free.”
Cristiano takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He walks to a nearby shelf, picking up a photo of his family.
CRISTIANO RONALDO
(softly)
“For them, I’ll keep going a little longer. But when it’s over, I’ll find peace. I’ll find the place where they can’t reach me.”
FADE OUT.