The Night He Lost: Gambling story, betting story, trolling Barcelona fans, Romance, Chidi, Bella, bet9ja, Free short stories
Chidi’s gaze swept over the match line-up board, his pen and jotter clutched tightly in hand. “Today’s the day,” he mused, anticipation crackling in the air. The Champions League was finally kicking off, and the match-ups were as predictable as ever: PSG versus Barcelona, and Benfica against Borussia Dortmund. Benfica was a shoo-in against Borussia, and Barcelona—well, with Messi, Suarez, Neymar, and Ter Stegen—PSG was in for a world of pain.
After a meticulous analysis of the standings, Chidi decided to place his bet. The exact number of goals was anyone’s guess, so he played it safe, betting solely on the winners and losers. He strolled over to the counter, placed his wager, and then made his way to the television tuned to the PSG versus Barcelona clash. The other match was irrelevant; as a die-hard Barca fan, he was eager to watch his team dismantle Paris Saint-Germain.
It was Valentine’s Day, and while some football enthusiasts managed to drag their partners into the fray—either genuinely sharing their passion or pretending for the occasion—most had either gone solo or snubbed their significant others for the allure of the Champions League. Chidi was firmly in the latter camp.
Earlier that day, Chidi had called his girlfriend, Angelica, to cancel their Valentine’s plans. Brutally honest as ever, he declared that missing the match was out of the question. With Angelica tied up at work all day, there was no chance of seeing her before kickoff. He even mentioned his plan to treat her the next night with the winnings from his bet. He wagered 30,000 Naira—half of his remaining funds—with hopes of a 100,000 Naira payout. Angelica, ever the concerned girlfriend, inquired whether he’d be alright missing Arsenal’s match against Bayern Munich the following evening. Chidi laughed it off, dismissing Arsenal’s match as unworthy of his attention.
As the players took to the field, the sky seemed to part for Barcelona, who entered in their vibrant, lemony-green jerseys. Chidi ended his call with Angelica and zeroed in on the game.
Five minutes in, Di Maria’s pass to Cavani in front of the goal had Chidi’s heart racing, but Cavani’s shot missed the mark, sending Chidi’s pulse back to normal. Despite Di Maria and Cavani’s attempts, Barcelona’s defense held firm. At 16 minutes, Ter Stegen had already thwarted two attempts, but then Angel Di Maria’s free-kick came out of nowhere—1-0 to PSG.
“Alright, calm down,” Chidi told himself. “It was just a lucky shot.” The commentator mentioned it was Angel’s birthday, and Chidi dismissed it with a scoff. The match continued with Barcelona pushing hard to equalize, Neymar and Suarez relentless in their pursuit, but PSG’s defense and Kevin Trapp were resolute.
Then, like a spellbinding apparition, Julian Draxler emerged, redeeming himself for an earlier foul, and sent the ball past Stegen and into the net. Chidi leaped from his seat, a mix of anguish and disbelief etched across his face.
By the time the first half of the match wrapped up, Chidi was grappling with the idea of withdrawing his bet. Doubts crept in, but his faith in Barcelona’s resilience held firm. Besides, the teams were about to switch goalposts—an opportune moment to turn things around. He faced a crucial decision: pull out now or ride the storm. With a deep breath, he chose to stay the course, sinking back into his seat and bracing for the second half.
Meanwhile…
Angelica’s phone buzzed, and she answered with a bright smile. “Hello? Oh, no, I’m free tonight.” She gave a flirtatious laugh. “I’m wrapping up here.” A blush crept over her cheeks as she ended the call.
Biola, her ever-curious co-worker, leaned in. “Was that your boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend?” Angelica said, gathering her things. She worked at a telecommunications customer care center, and her shift had just ended. “No, that’s Kunle. He’s been trying to get me to go out with him for a while now.”
Biola’s eyes widened. “Is that the handsome guy who looks like D’banj? The one who visited you last week, the one with the sleek car, and the one who sent you that gorgeous perfume on your birthday?” She practically squealed. “What about Chidi?” she whispered.
Angelica’s expression turned contemplative. “I’ve been considering ending things with Chidi for a while now.”
… Back to Chidi
At the 54th minute, Di Maria scored his second goal of the night, a birthday gift to himself. Chidi’s heart raced for the fifth time as the realization hit him like a sledgehammer. This couldn’t be real; it felt like a nightmare. The PSG fans erupted with euphoria, their cheers a painful reminder of his mounting despair. Chidi’s hope dwindled with every replay, and though he remained glued to the screen, a growing part of him wanted to escape. He clung to the flicker of hope, recalling miraculous comebacks like Manchester United’s—yet, as the 71st minute ticked by, Cavani’s fourth goal confirmed his fears. It was over. Tears welled in his eyes as he stared blankly at the television, counting down the remaining minutes with a sinking heart.
Lost in his misery, he barely noticed the departing crowd or the cleaner tidying up the viewing center. “Oga, we’re closing up,” the cleaner said, gently tapping Chidi, who remained frozen in time.
Later that night, as Chidi trudged home, the cold harmattan breeze stung his bare arms, making him wish he’d worn a sweater over his Barcelona jersey. Desperate to push past the sting of his loss, there was only one person he wanted to see—the one who might mend his broken spirits. But…
Angelica had just experienced a night that exceeded all her expectations. Kunle was not only a gentleman but also charmingly witty. Their evening had unfolded like a scene from a romantic comedy—dinner at a chic Chinese restaurant on the island, where he encouraged her to indulge in the feast, a luxury Chidi would never have afforded her.
As they finished their meal, Kunle guided her back to his sleek car. With a practiced grace, he opened the door for her, and as he slid into the driver’s seat, his arm brushed against her as he helped her with her seatbelt. The brief contact sent a shiver through her, making her heart race.
When they arrived at her modest apartment, Kunle once again emerged from the car to hold the door open for her. As she stepped out with her bags, he leaned casually against the door, his stance exuding effortless allure. Angelica gazed at him, a smile playing on her lips. “Thank you for tonight,” she said, preparing to leave.
But Kunle gently took her hand and drew her closer. The moment her palm touched his chest, she felt the solid muscles beneath his shirt. ‘Snap out of it. YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND,’ she scolded herself internally, but her body betrayed her. She could feel Kunle’s firm abs, inhale his intoxicating scent, and her legs felt like they might give way. ‘You have a boyfriend,’ she reminded herself.
Kunle tilted her chin gently, and his lips found hers in a tender, deliberate kiss. Her lips responded, betraying her conflicted emotions, as the world around them seemed to dissolve.
The End.
Did you like this story? It has a sequel. The Night He Won