November 3rd, 2028. Lucas was eighteen months old. The milestone brought new developments: more words (his vocabulary had exploded to maybe fifty words), more independence (he wanted to do everything himself), and more personality (stubborn, affectionate, curious—basically a miniature Ethan).
That morning, Ethan was making breakfast when Lucas walked into the kitchen holding his favorite stuffed football.
"Dada, play?" Lucas asked, holding up the ball.
"After breakfast, mijo. We need to eat first."
"No! Play now!"
The terrible twos were starting early. Lucas had discovered the word "no" and used it liberally.
"Breakfast first, then play," Ethan repeated calmly.
"NO!"
Sofia appeared, looking amused. "He gets that from you."
"I'm not that stubborn."
"You once played an entire match with a broken rib because you refused to admit you were injured."
"That's dedication, not stubbornness."
"That's the same thing."
Lucas, tired of being ignored, threw his stuffed football at Ethan. It bounced off his leg harmlessly.
"Nice throw," Ethan said. "But we still need breakfast first."
Lucas considered this, then said: "Okay. Breakfast. Then play."
Crisis averted. For now.
This was fatherhood—constant negotiation with a tiny human who had no concept of reason but infinite determination.
And Ethan loved every minute of it.
November 10th - La Liga: Barcelona 4-1 Espanyol
The La Liga season continued with a derby match against Espanyol. Barcelona dominated. Ethan scored twice—both simple finishes, nothing spectacular.
Season stats: 10 goals in 14 matches.
Still behind Mbappé (13 goals in 14 matches), but Ethan didn't care about the Pichichi race anymore. Team success mattered more.
After the match, journalists asked about the upcoming Ballon d'Or ceremony.
"Ethan, the Ballon d'Or ceremony is in two weeks. You won three consecutive trebles. You're the favorite. Confident?"
"The voters will decide. I've had a good year. So have others. We'll see what happens."
"If you win, it'll be your seventh. That would put you one behind Messi's eight. Is that a goal?"
"Not a primary goal. But sure, if it happens, it would be incredible. Messi is the greatest player in history. Being mentioned in the same sentence as him is already an honor."
"You're being very humble this season. Different from previous years."
"I'm just being honest. I'm twenty-eight with a wife and son. My perspective has changed. The trophies are important, but they're not everything anymore."
The journalists seemed almost disappointed by his maturity. They wanted the hungry, obsessed Ethan. But that person didn't exist anymore.
November 15th - Champions League: Barcelona 3-0 AC Milan
The Champions League group stage continued. AC Milan visiting Camp Nou. The Italian giants were struggling this season, and Barcelona took full advantage.
Twenty-third minute: Ethan scored. A brilliant header. 1-0.
Fifty-sixth minute: Lewandowski made it 2-0.
Seventy-eighth minute: Ethan completed his brace. 3-0.
Professional victory. Barcelona now had 2 wins and 1 draw in their first three Champions League matches. On track to qualify easily.
But the real news came after the match: FIFA announced the Ballon d'Or shortlist.
Final Three Nominees:
Ethan Loki (Barcelona) Kylian Mbappé (Real Madrid) Vinícius Júnior (Real Madrid)
Ethan was the overwhelming favorite. Three consecutive trebles. Nine Champions Leagues. Two World Cups. The stats were absurd.
Mbappé had a strong case too—incredible season for Madrid, scoring at a higher rate than Ethan. But no Champions League this year (Madrid had been knocked out in the semifinals by Barcelona).
Vinícius was the dark horse—brilliant for Madrid, but overshadowed by Mbappé.
The betting odds:
Ethan: 85% favorite Mbappé: 12% Vinícius: 3%
It wasn't close. Unless something dramatic happened in the next two weeks, Ethan would win his seventh Ballon d'Or.
November 20th - Family Discussion
Five days before the Ballon d'Or ceremony, Ethan and Sofia had a serious conversation after Lucas went to sleep.
"If you win on Sunday," Sofia said, "that's seven Ballon d'Ors. One behind Messi."
"I know."
"Which means next year, you'll be chasing eight. To tie him."
"Probably."
"And that means more pressure. More media. More obsession with individual awards."
Ethan saw where this was going. "You're worried I'll slip back into old habits."
"A little. You've been so good this year. So present. So balanced. But I know how competitive you are. The chase for eight Ballon d'Ors could consume you."
"It won't. I promise."
"How can you be sure?"
Ethan thought carefully before answering. "Because I know what I'm willing to sacrifice now. And what I'm not. Two years ago, I would have sacrificed anything—family time, health, happiness—to win trophies. But now? Now I know the cost. And I'm not willing to pay it."
"Even for eight Ballon d'Ors? To tie Messi?"
"Even for that. Yes, I want to win eight. But not if it means missing Lucas's childhood. Not if it means becoming an absent father. The balance is more important than the records."
Sofia studied him for a long moment. "I believe you. But I'm also going to hold you to that. If I see you slipping back into obsession, I'm calling it out."
"Deal. That's why I need you. To keep me honest."
They kissed, the conversation settling something important between them.
November 25th, 2028 - Ballon d'Or Ceremony, Paris
The Théâtre du Châtelet was packed with football's elite. Ethan sat with Sofia, both dressed elegantly. Lucas was back in Barcelona with Ethan's parents—still too young for these late-night events.
This was Ethan's seventh Ballon d'Or ceremony as a finalist. The routine was familiar: the build-up, the presentations, the anticipation.
But this time felt different. Less nervous. More appreciative.
If he won, incredible. If he didn't, he'd still go home to a family he loved and a life he was proud of.
Didier Drogba walked onto the stage at 9:30 PM.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the 2028 Ballon d'Or ceremony. Tonight, we celebrate another incredible year in football."
The usual format began. Women's Ballon d'Or. Kopa Trophy. Other awards.
Then came the main event.
"The final three nominees for the 2028 Ballon d'Or," Drogba announced. "Vinícius Júnior, Kylian Mbappé, and Ethan Loki."
The screen showed highlights from all three players' years. Goals. Assists. Trophies. Moments of brilliance.
"Third place," Drogba said, opening the envelope. "Vinícius Júnior, Real Madrid."
Vinícius stood, accepted the applause, but looked disappointed. He'd hoped for higher.
Two players left. Everyone in the theater knew what was coming.
"Second place... Kylian Mbappé, Real Madrid."
Mbappé stood, managing a smile, but his disappointment was visible. Fourth time finishing second or third. Never first.
Which meant—
"And the winner of the 2028 Ballon d'Or is... ETHAN LOKI, BARCELONA AND FRANCE!"
SEVEN BALLON D'ORS.
The theater erupted. Sofia kissed him. Ethan stood, straightened his jacket, and walked to the stage.
Seven. One behind Messi's eight. Only two players in history with more than six.
Drogba handed him the golden ball. The seventh one. Somehow heavier than the previous six.
"Seven Ballon d'Ors," Drogba said. "Only Lionel Messi has more. How does it feel?"
Ethan looked out at the audience. Cameras everywhere. The world watching.
"It feels like gratitude," he said. "Seven Ballon d'Ors is beyond anything I dreamed of as a kid. But it's also a reminder that football is a team sport. I wouldn't be here without my Barcelona teammates, my France teammates, my coaches, my family."
He paused, then added: "And my son Lucas, who's eighteen months old and has no idea what a Ballon d'Or is, but who makes me a better person every day."
The crowd applauded. The personal touch resonated.
"Next year, you could tie Messi's eight. Is that a goal?"
"It's a dream, not a goal. Goals are things you control. Dreams are things that might happen if you're lucky and work hard. If I win eight, incredible. If not, seven is already more than I ever expected."
Perfect answer. Humble. Mature. Honest.
When Ethan returned to his seat, Sofia whispered: "That was perfect. You stayed true to yourself."
"I just told the truth."
"I know. That's why it was perfect."
November 26th - The Morning After
Ethan woke at 10:47 AM in his Paris hotel room. The Ballon d'Or sat on the nightstand—his seventh one, glinting in the morning sunlight.
His phone showed thousands of messages. But one caught his attention immediately. From Mbappé:
Mbappé:Seven. You're one behind Messi. That's insane. Congratulations, hermano. You deserved it. But I'm coming for number one next year. Fair warning.
Ethan:Thanks brother. And good luck trying. But you know I'm going for eight.
Mbappé:May the best player win.
Ethan:He will. 😉
Their competitive banter was back. Healthy. Friendly. Exactly what their relationship needed.
Another message from Messi himself:
Messi:Congratulations on seven. You're in rare company now. Only you and Cristiano at that level besides me. Enjoy it. You've earned it.
Coming from the eight-time winner, the message meant everything.
Sofia stirred beside him. "Morning, seven-time Ballon d'Or winner."
"That sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud."
"It is ridiculous. You're twenty-eight years old with seven Ballon d'Ors. Do you understand how insane that is?"
"I'm starting to."
"Good. Because the media is going to spend all next year talking about whether you can tie Messi's eight. Are you ready for that pressure?"
Ethan thought carefully. "I don't know. But I do know this: I won't let it consume me. The chase for eight will be part of my story, not the entire story."
"Promise?"
"Promise. I have 278 more chapters in my career. But Lucas only has one childhood. I won't sacrifice the second for the first."
Sofia kissed him. "Good answer."
December 2028 - Living With Seven
The month after winning the Ballon d'Or was chaos. Media requests. Sponsor obligations. Everyone wanting a piece of the seven-time winner.
But Ethan maintained his boundaries. Two hours maximum per day for media. No events on weekends. Family time was protected.
December 5th - La Liga: Barcelona 2-1 Getafe
Barcelona won narrowly. Ethan scored the winner in the eighty-seventh minute. His twelfth goal of the season.
Mbappé, playing the same day, scored a hat-trick for Madrid. His sixteenth goal of the season.
The gap was growing. But Ethan didn't chase the Pichichi anymore. He chased team success.
December 12th - Champions League: Barcelona 4-0 Atlético Madrid
A dominant performance in the Champions League. Ethan scored twice. Barcelona now had 4 wins and 1 draw in five Champions League matches.
December 20th - Copa del Rey Round of 16
Ethan rested completely. Barcelona won 3-0 against a third-division team. The young players got minutes. Everyone was happy.
December 25th - Christmas with Family
Ethan and Sofia spent Christmas in Paris with both families. Lucas was obsessed with unwrapping presents—not interested in the gifts inside, just loved tearing the paper.
"He's going to be expensive," Sofia's father joked. "If he's this destructive at eighteen months, imagine him at sixteen."
"He's just expressing his creativity," Ethan defended.
"He's expressing his ability to destroy things," Sofia corrected.
But watching Lucas play with his cousins—Camille was now four, already bossing Lucas around—reminded Ethan what mattered.
Not Ballon d'Ors. Not goal-scoring records. But moments like this. Family gathered. Laughter echoing. Love shared.
On Christmas night, Ethan updated his journal:
December 25th, 2028
Seven Ballon d'Ors. I'm one behind Messi. The media will spend all next year asking if I can tie him.
And honestly? I don't know.
I'm twenty-eight. I probably have 4-5 more years at this level. Then decline. Then retirement around thirty-three or thirty-four.
Can I win one more Ballon d'Or in the next 5 years? Probably. But it requires:1. Winning major trophies (La Liga, Champions League)2. Outperforming Mbappé and others3. Staying healthy4. Getting lucky with timing
That's a lot of variables.
But here's what I know for sure: whether I win eight or stop at seven, I'm already successful. I'm already legendary. I'm already more than I ever dreamed of being.
And I have Lucas. And Sofia. And a life I love.
So if I win eight, incredible. If I stop at seven, that's fine too.
The chase for records won't consume me. Not anymore.
End of Chapter 82