Rise of a Football God-Chapter 467: June 3rd in Barcelona

June 3rd, 2026.

Barcelona, Spain.

The city still hummed with echoes of glory. Banners fluttered from balconies, fans wore Barca jerseys like second skin, and the air smelled faintly of summer and celebration.

But high above the noise, on the lush terraced gardens of Torre Bellesguard, a neo-Gothic masterpiece by Gaudi, a different kind of magic was brewing.

Here, in this hidden gem nestled in the hills overlooking Barcelona, Sam and Kayla would begin something far more eternal than any trophy...

Their wedding ceremony.

It was the most pivotal event of Sam's life, and he didn't hold anything back, going all out to make it one of the biggest and most memorable events of his life.

The garden was transformed into a dreamscape.

Ivory silk drapes billowed gently in the breeze, strung between ancient cypress trees. Rows of white wooden chairs faced a floral arch woven with wild roses, olive branches, and sun-touched lavender, each bloom a quiet hymn to Spanish romance.

Sam and Kayla thought for a long time and where the venue of their wedding would be. At first, Sam proposed Nigeria while Kayla proposed Netherlands.

As the gentle man he was, Sam initially agreed with his girlfriend's wish for the wedding ceremony to take place in the Netherlands and already started preparations when Kayla changed her mind at the last moment.

"Let's do it in Barcelona". She said.

"Why?" He asked.

She smiled. "Because Barcelona has always been and is still your dream".

"Huh?"

"Remember the first football game you ever watched, the 2011 UEFA Champions League final between FC Barcelona and Manchester United?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

Kayla smiled. "That was when it all started, your passion and dream as an avid football fan. Your journey as an FC Barcelona fan".

"Your life, your ambitions, your dream, it has all been tied to the city of Barcelona, so why not commemorate our matrimony there too?"

Listening to that argument, Sam was speechless. He had nothing to say, and so he simply dragged his fiancée closer and kissed her passionately on the lips.

A wedding in Barcelona… it truly was a dream of his.

And now, here they were.

It was D-day.

Soft Catalan guitar floated through the air, played live by an elderly musician with fingers full of soul. A narrow stone path lined with pale rose petals stretched down the center like a quiet invitation to forever.

The guest list was small. No media. No flashes. Just intimate warmth; close family, childhood friends, and a few teammates who had seen Sam bleed and rise again.

Of course, the likes of Emile Smith Rowe and Sam's first captain back in his Enyimba days, Austin all received special invitations.

Sam stood at the alter in a deep navy tailored suit, no tie, collaropen, sun catching on the Barca cufflinks tucked into his sleeves.

He looked calm, impossibly so, his famous calma passive radiating even here. Comparing a wedding ceremony to an opposition 18-yard box was wild, but heck, it was Sam, so the comparison was apt. He was calm.

But when he turned to see her, the mask cracked just slightly.

A few chuckles reverberated from among the audience, eliciting a glare from Sam as he glared at his friends; Lamine Yamal, Pedri, Balde, even Smith Rowe, where they stood reacting to every subtle reaction that he made.

And yet, that was only the prelude.

Because, soon enough, Kayla stepped into view and simply stole the breath from every chest.

She wore a simple, stunning silk gown, off-the-shoulder, the fabric hugging her frame like it had been sewn from moonlight. Her hair was swept into a soft updo, scattered with tiny pearls.

In her hands, a bouquet of white gardenias and dusty blue thistle, tied with a ribbon embroidered with the initials S & K.

Her eyes found his, and he forgot every match he'd every played

Badump! Badump!

Sam could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest; a heartbeat of liberation, of freedom, of Joyboy.

And then, the vows.

The officiant was Sam's father, the proud middle-aged man who once taught him how to juggle a ball in the backyard and now teared up trying to pronounce 'eternity' without choking.

It was an emotional moment.

Sam took her hands, and then with the most sincere smile in the whole world, he said:

"You were never just beside me. You were part of me".

"In the noise, in the silence, in the chaos of stadiums and the peace of home. Wherever I go, I want your hand. Not behind me. Not in front. But with me, always".

Kayla's voice wavered, but she held firm.

"I loved you before the world knew your name. And I'll love you when the lights go out, and the shirts are folded away. I don't need the roar of fans. I just need your voice whispering goodnight".

Cheers erupted from the spectators, then…

"They definitely googled that". A voice whispered among the audience.

It was from the direction of Sam's close friends again.

Sam registered an urge to glare at the bastards one more time. Rather, he focused on the important thing that left his heart racing again.

Drawing closer, he kissed her before the officiant could finish the line.

The crowd laughed. Lamine Yamal whistled. Mrs. Moses teared up and tried to hide it by glaring at the sun. Even Hansi Flick, seated quietly in the back with his wife smiled like a proud father.

Petals rained from above. Music swelled.

Then, they walked down the aisle as husband and wife, hearts racing faster than a final whistle.

Celebration followed.

The reception was candlelight under the stars. Long wooden tables lined with tapas, cava, laughter, and golden lamplight.

Austin made a toast referencing the good old days, the Enyimba days playing with the young prodigy of then, Sam who already blossomed to become a King now, eliciting cheers from the listeners.

And then Ian, Sam's best friend told a story about how he once patched up Sam's busted ankle with duct tape and pure attitude, eliciting laughter.

And Lewandowski, healed and grinning, raised a glass.

"You've won the hardest competition now. And there's no second leg. Only forever".

More cheers erupted.

They danced barefoot in the grass, lights hanging overhead like fireflies. Just before midnight, as Kayla rested her head on his shoulder, Sam whispered.

"Champions League? Amazing".

"But this?"

"This is the real trophy".