For THEO:

Your husband was an internationally recognized footballer. He was an amazing defender who sometimes let his brain fly the coop and just acted on impulse. Your Pepe, however, the one off the pitch, was a whole different guy. He was sweet and kind. He put your needs before his own and he always made sure that you were happy.

You didn't necessarily agree with how he played on the pitch, nor with the amount of red cards he got, but he was still your husband and you would love him and defend him until the end of your days. When you had first started to go out, when he was just starting to make an impact as a regular sub for Real Madrid, there was a lot of allegations that he was abusing you behind the scenes.

Pepe would actually laugh at reporters if they asked him if he abused you, because it was so ridiculous. You always stood by your husband. He had never laid a hand on you and you knew he never had any intention of doing so. You had two children together, and one was on the way. Your oldest, a girl, was very fond of ballerinas and tutus. She loved the color pink. You had been held up at home, heavily pregnant and Pepe had had to drive your daughter to and from ballet practice for the time being. Whenever he walked around with your daughter, reporters would snap pictures.

People would make fun of the 'fierce Pepe' being reduced to driving his daughter to ballet practice. He could care less what anyone said, as he always had, and didn't once complain to you about having to get out of practice early to pick up your daughter. Your daughter had him wrapped around her little finger from the moment he held her for the first time.

Your son was obsessed with football. While your daughter was convinced that she was going to marry a prince and ride off into the sunset at any moment, your son enjoyed playing football with his father out in the yard or down in the basement. He didn't want to be a defender, which he called boring after being forced to play it for a few matches with his youth team.

He wanted to be a striker. "I want to be just like Uncle Cris," were his exact words. He loved scoring goals, as he was good at it for his age. He would always be out in the yard, trying to do funky tricks he saw his father and his teammates doing at practice or during games. He did have a temper, like his father, but he learned to keep it under control, otherwise you took away his football.

You were eight months pregnant with your third child, another boy. Pepe had been ecstatic when you told him that you were expecting once again. Pepe loved your children. He would do anything for them. He would stand out in the rain to just watch your son play for half an hour after he had had a five hour long practice. He would sit and watch your daughter's ballet recital when he should be catching up on sleep after late nights with practice.

No matter what anyone said about him, you would stick by him. He brought you and your two kids to practice with him for the annual Madrid Picnic. It was a small get together with the players, coaches, and other staff with their immediate families. The chefs made delicious food and there was always plenty to go around.

Parking the car close to the entrance, Pepe got out of the car and helped your children out of their car seats as you struggled to get out of the car yourself. Feet firmly on the ground, you accepted Pepe's hand as he pulled you out of the car gently. You thanked your husband, placing a hand on your aching back. "Let's go, c'mon," you called your children. They ran ahead as Pepe walked besides you, a hand on your hip. As you waddled forwards you saw a familiar child run past you and Pepe. Turning around, you greeted Cristiano who fell into step besides you and Pepe.

"How's Pepe, Jr., the third?" Cristiano asked.

"He's always excited. He'll be here soon, though," you smiled. The three of you walked out to the field where the picnic was already underway. Pepe pulled a seat out for you, which you plopped down onto. You smiled and greeted the other WAGs and players, falling into a conversation with Sara, Iker Casillas' wife.

"How are you feeling? You must be close to your due date," Sara commented.

"Three weeks," you replied, rubbing your bulging stomach. "Then I can actually walk around again." Pepe had gone off to talk with a few of his teammates as your son ran over to you.

"Can we get food now?" he questioned, obviously hungry.

"I'll talk to you later, Sara, this little devil's a little hungry," you joked, standing up slowly. "Alright, let's go," you said, leading your son by hand over to the food. You filled his plate for him, balancing your own in your hand. You sat him at one of the kid's table where his sister already sat with her food. You told your kids to behave before making your way back over to Sara, Pilar, and other WAGs. You talked with them about life with kids, jobs, etc.

The chair besides you pulled back and you turned to your husband. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, as usual. But otherwise I'm having a great time. As are the kids," you stated, looking over at your kids as they sat laughing around a table with some of the other player's kids. Your son's face had sauce all over it and you pointed it out to your husband.

"He'll be fine, don't strain yourself," Pepe replied, placing a hand on your rounded belly. Your son kicked in response to his father's hand being placed on the roof of his house.

"Great, now you got him excited," you teased.

"How can he not be? He's almost here," Pepe responded, kissing you lightly on the lips.