England's Greatest-Chapter 131: The Life of a Model Part 2 (End)

[Check out the Patreon, I think there's like 51 advance Chapters there with daily Chapters, and drop some power stones, comment and review if you guys want to, trying to hit 2500 power stones this week.]

.....

Barbara barely had time to catch her breath.

Her last day in Paris was a blur—hair, makeup, fittings, interviews, runways, events. Every second was planned, every move choreographed. Normally, she thrived on the chaotic energy, the flash of the cameras, and the rush of it all.

But today, it felt different.

Her mind was elsewhere—

Already thinking about what came after Paris.

After New York.

Straight to Tristan.

But first, she had to get through today.

She sat still, eyes closed as a hairstylist carefully curled her hair. The room had every bit of the chaos of Fashion Week—models wove between makeup stations, stylists ran about with designer pieces in hand, and assistants clutched clipboards, trying to ensure schedules were met like their lives depended on it.

"Keep your head still, love," the stylist murmured, her voice barely audible over the commotion.

Barbara hummed, resisting the urge to check her phone.

Because if she did?

She knew there'd be a message from Tristan.

And if there was a message from Tristan, she'd be tempted to reply.

And she couldn't afford that—not today.

The frenzy backstage only grew with each passing moment. Models changed in record time, assistants smoothed out clothing, and stylists hurriedly put on final touches.

A stylist was in the middle of fastening the last clasp of her diamond-studded gloves when someone from PR swooped in.

"Barbara, quick interview before the show."

Before she had time to protest, she was clipped with a mic, a light flashed, and a camera was inches from her face.

The reporter greeted her with an eager smile, while someone behind the camera gave a signal to begin.

"Barbara! You've had an incredible Fashion Week. How does it feel to be wrapping up your time here in Paris?"

She effortlessly shifted into media mode, a poised expression settling on her face.

"It's been amazing," she said smoothly. "Exhausting, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

The reporter nodded. "You've walked for some of the biggest designers this season. Any standout moments?"

Barbara tilted her head slightly. "Every show has its magic. But I think Paris itself is always special. It's an outlet for creativity."

The reporter's smile turned sly, his eyes glinting with something mischievous.

"Well, speaking of special..."

She knew what was coming without him even speaking.

"Fans have been noticing your connection with Tristan Hale. There's been a lot of speculation. Any comments on that?"

Barbara's smile didn't waver.

She had two options—sidestep or lean into it.

And for once, she wasn't in the mood to dodge.

She shrugged, voice light. "Tristan's a great guy. We talk, we get along. That's it."

The reporter raised an eyebrow. "So... just friends?"

Barbara let the moment stretch, finding enjoyment in the reporter's discomfort, clearly eager for the next hit. She tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

"Didn't say that."

Before the reporter could push further, Sophia appeared by her side cutting the interview short.

"We're done here."

Barbara turned away, watching the reporter walk away—but she knew this wasn't the end.

By morning, the headlines would write themselves.

x

Barbara had 30 minutes to scarf down a meal before her next event. She and Sophia ducked into a quiet café, hoping for a moment of peace.

That hope lasted all but five minutes.

The second someone recognized her, it was over.

Paparazzi flashed cameras through the windows, and fans whispered pointedly, phones recording every move.

Barbara sighed. "So much for eating in peace."

Sophia sipped her coffee, unfazed. "Welcome to your life."

Before Barbara could take another bite, her phone buzzed.

Tristan: Just saw the interview clip.

Barbara smirked, typing back.

Barbara: And?

Tristan: So you didn't say we're just friends? Interesting.

Barbara: Maybe I like keeping people guessing.

Tristan: Or maybe, you just like keeping me guessing.

Barbara froze for half a second, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Then she rolled her eyes and typed back.

Barbara: Don't let it go to your head, Tristan.

Tristan: Too late.

She could almost hear his grin through the screen.

And the worst part?

She wasn't even mad about it.

x

Barbara's last event was a closing-night gala for Fashion Week.

She arrived in a stunning Chanel gown, her hair swept back in effortless waves.

The venue was packed, the air buzzing with luxury and exclusivity.

But for the first time this week—Barbara felt ready to leave.

She wasn't going to New York because she wanted to.

She was going because she had to.

But once it was done she was heading straight to England.

And honestly?

She couldn't wait.

.....

The Next Day

The streets of Paris were quiet, the early morning sky still painted in deep shades of blue and silver.

The only sounds were the occasional car passing by and the soft click of camera shutters as a handful of paparazzi waited outside the hotel entrance, hoping to capture one last shot of Barbara before she left the city.

She barely spared them a glance.

This wasn't the first time she had left a city with cameras flashing, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Sophia walked beside her, dragging a carry-on suitcase behind her with one hand, phone in the other, already buried in emails.

"Alright," Sophia sighed, not even looking up. "New York is going be a tight three days. Two runway shows, three brand events, a magazine shoot, and at least two interviews. Then, the second we're done, we're flying straight to England like you wanted."

Barbara hummed in acknowledgment, sliding into the car.

She knew the schedule was a mess. She had brought it on herself, really, and the few extra days of work were just the consequences. But truthfully, she hardly cared.

A few more days in New York were nothing compared to what came after.

Barbara leaned her head against the cool window, watching the streets of Paris blur past. The Eiffel Tower soon disappeared in the distance.

Paris had been incredible, as always. That wasn't a surprise. Yet, for the first time, she wasn't sad to leave.

And she knew why: Paris and New York were just pitstops on her way to where she truly wanted to be.

x

Even in the early morning, the airport was busy—business travelers, tourists, and models still moving between cities as Fashion Week continued.

Barbara slipped through the VIP area, security barely glancing at her passport before hurrying her along, quickly attending to the next person in line.

Once Sophia and her made it to the private lounge, Barbara dropped her bag onto the seat and let out a deep breath.

Sophia, already a few sips into her coffee, glanced at her.

"You alright?"

Barbara nodded. "Yeah. Just ready to get this over with."

Sophia arched an eyebrow. "Wow. New York Fashion Week isn't exciting anymore?"

Barbara rolled her eyes. "It is. But... you know."

And Sophia did know.

In fact, she was the only one who knew the real plan.

The moment New York was done—the moment she was contractually free—Barbara was getting on a plane straight to England.

Sophia stretched, giving her a knowing look. "So. Have you told him yet?"

Barbara shook her head, taking a sip of water. "Nope."

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "You do realize he's going lose his mind when you just... show up in England, right?"

Barbara smirked, leaning back against the plush airport lounge chair.

"Yeah," she said. "I know."

She couldn't wait.

x

The moment Barbara's plane touched down at JFK, she barely had a second to breathe.

No fanfare. No glamorous arrival.

Just straight to work.

By the time she made it through customs and security, a black SUV was already waiting for her outside. Sophia waved her over as she held up her phone, already on a call.

"Yeah, we just landed. No, she's fine. Yes, we're heading straight there."

Barbara slid into the backseat, barely getting comfortable before Sophia ended the call and immediately launched into scheduling mode.

"Okay. First stop—fitting for the Marc Jacobs show. After that, we have to get you to the Bulgari event.

Barbara rubbed her temples. "No pressure, huh?"

Sophia shot her a pointed look. "That's what happens when you throw your schedule to the wind just so you can go meet your boyfriend."

Barbara gave a tired laugh, her eyes already peering out the window.

When she was back in England, it would be worth it.

x

The New York skyline towered above her. It was a vast expanse of steel and glass that reflected the midday sun. Golden streaks of light danced all over the city, shimmering across windows, flickering past people, and spilling onto the streets below—only to be engulfed by the long shadows cast by the lofty towers above.

She really did love this city. Always had.

But this time, she wasn't gushing over its beauty and planning to extend her stay—she was counting down the days until she could leave.

By the time she stepped into the Marc Jacobs showroom, she was fully in work mode.

The moment she walked in, the designer's assistant was on her.

"Barbara! Great timing—come, we need to get you into your first look."

No greetings. No pleasantries. Just straight to the fitting room. There was no time for small talk, not with her schedule.

Barbara held back a yawn as they slipped her into a structured black blazer dress, the shoulders sharp, the silhouette sleek.

She turned toward the mirror, adjusting the fit slightly.

It was perfect.

Simple, but striking. The kind of thing she loved wearing.

"Thoughts?" the stylist asked, pinning the fabric in a few places, ensuring it would hold.

Barbara turned slightly, studying herself. "I like it. Feels powerful."

The assistant beamed. "Good. You're opening the show in it."

Barbara just nodded.

There were no nerves nor jitters—it was just work.

She had done this a million times before. And she would do it again tomorrow.

x

When she arrived at the Bulgari event, Barbara had switched on full model mode.

Flawless makeup. A sleek gown that hugged her frame perfectly. Every detail was curated.

The cameras flashed the instant she stepped onto the red carpet. Blinding white light was flashing in rapid succession, accompanied only by the sound of shutters clicking. A lesser model would have been momentarily blinded, forced to squint at the blinding haze of flashes.

But not her. Her posture was flawless and her eyes remained trained on the relentless onslaught of light. The rapid clicks of shutters were nothing more than background noise as she posed effortlessly, finding satisfaction in the way the diamonds on her wrist sparkled under the light.

It was second nature.

Inside industry elites mingled and champagne flowed—she didn't care.

Smile. Pose. Speak.

Repeat.

.....

Next Day

Barbara adjusted the sleek black dress, disinterestedly watching the stylists make final tweaks through the mirror.

The Michael Kors fitting was moving fast—assistants rushing around adjusting hemlines, and models slipping in and out of outfits.

The usual pre-show chaos.

Long flights, back-to-back events, cameras in her face no matter where she was—she was exhausted. Tired of the work, the hours, and the people.

But she pushed through.

Because this was her job, and she was damn good at it.

And then—she heard it.

A voice. Familiar, too.

Irish—and one she used to like way too much before it all fell apart.

"Barbara?"

Her body stiffened involuntarily.

She slowly turned around, and when she did?

She was met with a familiar sight.

Niall Horan, standing just a few feet away, dressed in a casual designer jacket, looked like he hadn't completely humiliated her a year ago.

Barbara's stomach twisted—not in the way it did when she thought about Tristan nor in the way it had when they broke off.

She expected to feel resentment, anger, or maybe even pain—he had cheated on her so that was only normal, right?

But there was no such feeling. No fury, bitterness, or righteous indignation, instead there was just...nothing.

"Barbara?" he repeated, his voice hesitant.

She exhaled slowly, keeping her face unreadable. "Niall."

Any hint of doubt melted away when she responded and a smile quickly framed his face. "Didn't expect to run into you here."

She crossed her arms, expression flat. "Really? I'm a model, and this," she motioned to everything around her, "is fashion week."

He laughed, missing—or perhaps choosing to ignore—the sarcasm entirely. "Fair point," his grin widened. "I'm just surprised to see you here, it's been what...four months since we last saw each other?"

"Four months without an apology, indeed," she replied, her tone level.

His smile faltered, but only for a fraction of a second before it returned.

"Look, I...I know I screwed up," he admitted rubbing his neck. "I just thought that—"

"—That you could show up months later, and everything would be fine? It's too late for that."

"I just don't like how we left things." His voice was softer, yet still had a hint of defensiveness. "Look, I don't expect you to forgive me; I still wanted to apologize though."

She nodded lightly. "Well, now you have."

And with that, she was gone, her heels clicking against the floor.

She should have been shaken. Annoyed. Angry. Anything.

But instead—

Relief. That was all she felt.

Because, even in front of Niall—her cheating ex, all she could think was:

How much time was left until she could see Tristan?

She had something better waiting for her, so why look back?

x

Barbara had just finished a long, exhausting day—runway fittings, interviews, dodging Niall—when she finally made her way back to her hotel room. She didn't even bother changing out of her clothes, just kicked off her heels and collapsed onto the bed, phone in hand.

Her fingers hovered over her screen for half a second before she tapped Tristan's name on her phone.

FaceTime: Tristan Hale

It rang once.

Then, his face filled the screen—hair damp, lying on his couch in a hoodie, looking as relaxed as can be while she felt like she had just run a marathon...in stilettos.

"Two calls in two days? Careful, Palvin—people might think you actually like me."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

Tristan chuckled, shifting slightly on his couch. "How's New York?"

Barbara exhaled. "Annoying."

His brows furrowed slightly. "What happened?"

Barbara hesitated. Then sighed.

"Ran into Niall."

"And?"

Barbara studied his face for a few seconds.

"Are you... jealous?"

Tristan scoffed. "No."

Barbara grinned. "You so are."

Tristan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "I just don't like the guy."

Barbara's chest warmed slightly. "Good. Because neither do I."

"You okay?"

Barbara stretched out, resting her chin on her hand. "Yeah. It was actually kind of funny. I thought seeing him again would bother me, but it didn't."

Tristan watched her closely. "Why's that?"

Barbara exhaled, tilting her head.

"Because... he doesn't matter anymore."

Tristan's eyes softened. "Good."

They didn't say much after that, falling into a comfortable silence.

x

Barbara sighed, stretching out. "You're going be in England when I get back, right?"

Tristan smirked. "Why? You planning on seeing me?"

Barbara shrugged. "No, I was just curious about something."

Tristan's gaze lingered on her for a second, before he murmured,

"Okay. And let me know when you come back to England—I'm still waiting for my reward."

Barbara felt heat creep up her neck.

....

The next morning Barbara woke up to chaos.

Her phone wouldn't stop buzzing—notifications flooding in, her name trending on Twitter. She already knew it was bad before she even looked.

And she was right.

"Barbara Palvin & Niall Horan spotted together at NYFW—are they rekindling their romance?"

"Barbara Palvin seen laughing with ex-fling Niall—what about Tristan Hale?"

"Tristan Hale—the new rebound?"

Barbara groaned, rubbing her temples as she scrolled through the posts.

There it was—a paparazzi shot of her and Niall backstage, mid-conversation. It was taken at just the right angle to make it seem like something it wasn't. And of course, there were videos too—because why wouldn't there be?

One was of Niall approaching her, another made it seem like they were standing way closer than they had been.

Unbelievable.

She had already told Tristan everything last night.

But now?

Now the whole world had an opinion.

Her phone buzzed again.

Sophia: Call me. Now.

Barbara groaned, venting her frustrations on her pillow before pressing the call button.

The second Sophia picked up, her voice was impatient.

"Tell me it's not as bad as it looks."

Barbara exhaled. "Depends. How bad does it look?"

"Well," Sophia said dryly, "the good news is, people aren't turning on you...yet. Most of them are just confused. But knowing the media, it'll be a couple more hours before your name is tarnished."

Barbara nodded slowly. "And the bad?"

Sophia sighed. "It's everywhere, Barbara: Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, tabloids, hell even newspapers have begun printing it. But the worst part? They're dragging Tristan into it."

Barbara's jaw clenched. Of course, they were.

Because it wasn't just about Niall, she couldn't care less about him, but they were comparing him to Tristan.

Wondering if she had been playing games.

And she hated it.

Because Tristan didn't deserve that.

Before she could even think of a way to handle the situation, her phone lit up with a new message.

...

Tristan: I'm assuming you've seen the headlines?

Barbara bit her lip, then quickly typed back.

Barbara: Yeah. It's ridiculous.

 Tristan: Agreed. You okay?

Barbara felt something in her chest ease.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

No accusations. No anger. Just Tristan being...Tristan.

Barbara: I just hate that they're dragging you into this.

 Tristan: It's not your fault. I know how the media twists things.

Barbara hesitated for half a second.

Then she hit FaceTime.

It barely rang once before Tristan picked up.

He was lying in bed, his hair a mess, clearly having just woken up.

Barbara sighed. "So... you're not mad?"

Tristan tilted his head. "Should I be?"

Barbara exhaled. "No. But I wouldn't blame you if you were."

Tristan ran a hand through his hair. "Look, do I like waking up to headlines about you and your ex? No. Did I want to punch something when I saw them? Maybe."

Barbara's lips twitched into a small smile. "Jealous?"

Tristan scoffed. "Obviously."

Barbara grinned, but then her expression quickly softened.

"It just sucks," she muttered. "I already told you everything last night, and now it's like I have to prove it to the entire world."

Tristan studied her for a second, then nodded. "I get it. But you don't have to prove anything to me."

Barbara's breath caught. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that.

She shifted slightly, voice softer. "For what it's worth, Niall and I were never in a relationship. We went out on a few dates...then he cheated on me," she laughed, realizing the absurdity of the situation only when she mentioned it aloud.

Tristan's jaw clenched. "He cheated on you?"

Barbara shrugged. "Yeah. But I'm over it."

Tristan shook his head. "I swear, football's got its share of idiots, but musicians? You lot might have us beat."

Barbara laughed, feeling a little lighter. "He's not worth being mad over."

Tristan shot her a pointed look. "Doesn't mean I have to like seeing his face near yours."

Barbara bit her lip, watching him carefully. "So... if the roles were reversed, I wouldn't be seeing headlines about you and an ex, right?"

Tristan smiled. "Nope."

Barbara raised an eyebrow. "No old flings hanging around?"

Tristan's grin widened. "None that compare to you—besides, as you're aware, I've never even had a girlfriend."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. "You're such a flirt."

Tristan shrugged. "Can't help it. You bring it out of me."

Barbara sighed dramatically. "And to think I called you just to clear the air."

Tristan leaned forward. "You did. And now I have one question for you."

Barbara arched a brow. "What?"

Tristan smirked. "How are you going shut this down?"

Barbara grinned. "Oh, I already have a plan."

She didn't waste any time.

Barbara went straight to Twitter, typing out a simple but direct post. No point in beating around the bush.

@BarbaraPalvin: Just to clarify: Niall and I were never in a relationship. We dated briefly, it ended a while ago, and we have both moved on. No drama, no games, just facts. Hope that clears things up.

Within minutes, the tweet had over 50,000 likes and retweets.

Barbara locked her phone and leaned back, exhaling.

Tristan's voice came through the phone low, but amused. "That's one way to do it."

Barbara grinned. "What can I say? I don't like unfinished business."

Tristan tilted his head slightly. "Good. Because now the whole world knows you're mine."

Barbara laughed, shaking her head. "You are so smug right now."

Tristan's smirk widened. "Yeah, but you like it."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, Tristan."

Tristan grinned. "Night, Barbara."

And with that, the call ended.

........

3625 words, not counting this end section.

Here's your bonus Chapter—you guys made me come back from work and I made my friend do overtime just to edit this lol.

Next week if you want a bonus Chapter, 500 stones.

Anyway, goodnight I'm heading off to bed.