England's Greatest-Chapter 132 - 131: First Day Part 1

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X

Barbara's tweet had done its job.

The media had no choice but to move on.

Fans were relieved. The speculation was dying down. The chaos? Handled.

She should have felt satisfied.

But all she could think about was tomorrow.

Because while Tristan was still under the impression that she'd be stuck in New York for another three weeks, she was leaving tomorrow.

And not for another Fashion Week stop.

She was going to England.

X

Her entire day was a blur.

Her schedule was stacked—shoots, meetings, fittings, the usual Fashion Week chaos. But she moved through it without really being in it.

She spent nearly two hours at Vogue, changing in and out of couture, stepping in front of the camera with perfect posture, her face composed, unreadable. The photos would turn out great—Barbara always knew how to give them what they wanted.

By the time she made it to her lunch meeting, her mind was halfway across the Atlantic. Her agent was going on about a Milan campaign—dates, rates, press tie-ins—and Barbara just nodded along, polite and tuned out.

Sophia, seated next to her, noticed almost immediately. She didn't say anything until they were back in the car.

"You're useless today."

Barbara blinked and turned her head. "Excuse me?"

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "You nodded your way through a twenty-minute pitch about a campaign you're not even sure your doing."

Barbara let out a breath, tilting her head against the window. "Okay. Fine. I'm distracted."

"Uh-huh." Sophia crossed her arms. "Wanna guess why?"

Barbara didn't answer.

Sophia tilted toward her. "Did you tell him yet?"

Barbara kept her eyes on the glass. "No."

There was a beat of silence before Sophia's mouth pulled into something amused.

"Oh, let me know his reaction," she said. "Should be fun to see."

Barbara finally looked over, eyes narrowed, but her face softened as her phone buzzed in her hand.

She didn't need to check who it was.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, a small smile tugging at her lips before she even opened the message.

Tristan: Finished training. How's your day?

Barbara didn't even think.

Her thumbs were already moving, fast—almost too fast for her to type properly.

Barbara: Exhausting. But hey, only three more weeks of this.

The respond came almost instantly.

Tristan: Three weeks?

Her brows lifted. She bit the corner of her lip, typing slower now.

Barbara: Mhm. New York keeps me busy.

His next message came seconds later.

Tristan: Damn. Was hoping I'd see you sooner.

She tried not to smile, but her face betrayed her.

She typed, cheeks flushing a little.

Barbara: Miss me already?

Tristan: Maybe.

She rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the warmth rising in her chest.

Barbara: Admit it.

A pause.

Tristan: Alright, fine. I miss you, Palvin. Happy now?

Barbara's mouth tugged into a full grin. She let out a soft breath through her nose, her face warm and pink as she stared at the screen.

Barbara: Very.

From beside her, Sophia peeked over her shoulder and groaned.

"You are so down bad."

Barbara elbowed her gently, not looking up. "Oh, please."

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "You're literally flying across the ocean for this man."

Barbara tried to keep her expression neutral—tried. But the smile slipped through anyway. "That's not so bad," she said, her voice low and a little too quick

"You two are so cringe," Sophia replied back laughing.

X

By the time night fell, Barbara was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, everything.

The constant cameras. The exhausting small talk. The fake conversations with people who thought they knew her.

Normally? She could handle it. She could play the part perfectly.

But tonight? She just wanted to go home.

Or rather, she wanted to be where Tristan was.

Instead, she was at an exclusive New York Fashion Week party, dressed in a sleek Versace mini dress, a glass of champagne in hand, pretending to care.

The event was a blur—flashes of conversation, forced smiles, people who thought they knew her but didn't.

Sophia, standing beside her, was just as over it as well.

"Ready to go?" Sophia asked, leaning over to hear after a hour.

Barbara didn't even hesitate. "God, yes."

Fifteen minutes later, they were slipping out the back exit, dodging the paparazzi as they climbed into a waiting car.

..

Back in the hotel, Barbara kicked off her heels,put on some pajamas, and collapsed onto the bed.

And just as Barbara got comfortable, her phone lit up.

FaceTime – Tristan Hale

She didn't even think twice before answering the call.

Laid out on his couch, hair still damp, a black t-shirt clinging to him in all the right places. The light from his living room cast a soft glow over his face.

"You actually called first," Barbara's voice came out soft as she settled deeper into the pillows, the phone angled just right. Her hair was still a little messy from the day, but her smile tugged unconsciously at the corner of her mouth.

"Figured I owed you one," Tristan said, lying back on his couch. His damp hair curled slightly at the ends.

"I'm impressed." Barbara responded, keep her voice even, but the warmth crept in anyway.

"So... what's the plan tomorrow?" Tristan asked, keeping his tone casual and his eyes on hers.

"Meetings. Fittings. Same routine," Barbara replied, shifting slightly under the covers. Her fingers traced the edge of the phone case.

Tristan nodded, looking a little sad hearing that. "Kinda hate that."

"You do?" Barbara tried to sound playful, but the look in her eyes gave her away.

"Yeah." He looked at her for a second longer, then exhaled through his nose. "Might start counting down."

Barbara's eyes dropped to the corner of the screen, a smile tugging at her lips.

If only he knew. There were no more days to count. She'd be on a plane in a few hours.

And he had no idea.

X

September 26, 2014—Belvoir Drive: Early Morning

The early morning chill hung low over the pitch, wrapping itself around the players like steam off the grass. Boots crunched lightly on frost. The echo of passing drills, light banter, and the occasional burst of laughter floated across the training ground.

Tristan was mid-stretch when he heard it.

"Buddy!"

He didn't need to turn around.

That voice carried too much sarcasm to be anyone but Vardy.

"How's Barbara?" Vardy asked, shouting, breaking the silence.

A chorus of chuckles broke out near the cones.

Of course. He knew this was coming.

Tristan stayed hunched over his knee, exhaled through his nose, and muttered just loud enough to be heard, "You lot need to get a life."

It didn't help.The damage was done.

From the edge of the group, Mahrez piped up, "Nah, we're good, mate. We'd rather focus on yours."

Danny Drinkwater jogged over, tossing a ball from hand to hand, "FaceTime during FIFA, though? Bold move."

"She must be something special than if he let her join during a game," Ulloa said laughing with how obsessed Tristan was with FIFA.

Schlupp nodded, water bottle in hand. "Definitely serious."

Tristan stood up straight, shaking out his arms, "You're all acting like I proposed."

Vardy stepped in front of him, "Not yet."

Tristan rubbed the side of his head, trying not to smile. "I hate this team."

Liam Moore looked over from his spot near the goal. "Yeah? Well, this team loves Barbara."

Even Schmeichel joined in, amusement dancing in his usually composed expression.

"Tristan," he said, stepping forward, "we've known you a while, yeah?"

He paused, just long enough.

"And I've never—never—seen you smile at your phone like that."

James pointed across the group. "You looked like a dog waiting for a treat."

Tristan dropped his head for a beat, dragging a hand down his face.

"You all seriously need help."

Konchesky jogged past, slowing just enough to toss in—

"She coming to a match?"

Tristan looked up. Blinked. "What?"

Vardy was already nodding, his expression far too pleased. "She's definitely flying over soon. You can't fool us."

"And what makes you think that?" Tristan asked, just curious.

"Vardy's gut is never wrong," Wes added from the back.

Tristan opened his mouth—then paused. Truthfully, he didn't know what to say.

Barbara had three more weeks in England.

But something about her tone... the way she'd looked away when she said it...

Before he could think too hard about it, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

Pearson's voice rang out from across the field.

"Alright! Enough gossip. Back in line!"

The players scattered, grabbing balls, forming lines.

By the time training ended, the ground was soft underfoot and everyone was soaked through. Water bottles were tossed between hands. Laces loosened.

But the teasing?

Yeah. That wasn't over.

Vardy draped an arm over Tristan's shoulder as they walked off the pitch.

"So..."

Tristan didn't look at him.

"Don't."

Drinkwater joined on his other side, eyebrows raised.

"When she does come over..."

Tristan groaned. "Fuck off."

Vardy nudged him with a laugh in his voice.

"Are we getting a proper intro? Or are you keeping her all to yourself?"

Tristan shook his head, eyes forward.

"You got a FaceTime. That's more than you deserve."

Mahrez called out from behind them. "Still not a no."

Schlupp gave him a look. "Which means soon."

He kind of hoped they were right.

X

Tristan had just finished cooling down after training when one of the assistant coaches told him Pearson wanted to see him.

He didn't think much of it.

Maybe a quick discussion. Maybe a word on the next match against Crystal Palace.

But as he stepped into the manager's office and saw Pearson sitting behind his desk.

"Close the door," Pearson said, nodding toward the seat in front of him. "Sit down."

Tristan wiped some sweat off his forehead with a towel before dropping into the chair. "What's up?"

Pearson leaned back, studying him for a second before getting straight to the point.

"I'm leaving you out of the squad for Crystal Palace."

Tristan blinked.

For a moment, he thought he misheard.

Not starting? Fine. Rotations happened, especially in a long season. But not even making the squad? That was different.

Pearson must've seen the confusion flash across his face because he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

"You've played every single game since you debuted, Tristan. League, cup, England. Every match. Every minute."

Tristan exhaled slowly, sitting back in his chair.

From his first senior appearance in the FA Cup, to the Championship promotion run, to winning the Player and Young Player of the Year, to now tearing up the Premier League.

And that wasn't even including international duty. It had been non-stop.

Pearson didn't wait for a response. "We all saw what you did against Manchester United and even before that. That 7-1 performance was unreal. But the truth is, we can afford to drop points here and there. What we can't afford?" He tapped his fingers against the desk. "Is running you into the ground. We can afford to be in 10th place."

Tristan ran a hand through his damp curls, letting that sink in. He wanted to make the team, have better results than in his first life, so he accomplished something for the team, that's why he tried so hard in the FA Cup.

But yeah he was tired, mentally and physically.

He had been pushing through, always showing up, always delivering, because that was his own expectations, not anyone else. He was given chances no one else in the world and a fucking system as well.

But maybe Pearson had a point.

Maybe a break wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

Tristan rested his elbows on his knees. "So this is about managing my minutes?"

Pearson nodded. "From now on, yeah. Some games you'll start, some you won't. Some you'll play half, some not at all."

Tristan rubbed his chin. "And what if I feel fine?"

Pearson huffed a small laugh. "Tristan, I've been in this game too long to fall for that. You look fine. You play fine. But you're running on fumes. You've been pushing through it, and you've done it well. But if we keep this up?" He shook his head. "We'll break you before the season even hits the halfway mark. Your only 19."

Tristan exhaled.

Tristan sighed, nodding slowly. "Alright. I get it."

Pearson studied him. "You're taking this better than I expected."

Tristan let out a small chuckle. "I mean... yeah, I want to play. But I won't pretend I haven't felt it. I've barely had time to stop since last season."

Pearson leaned back, nodding in approval. "Good. That's the right mentality."

Then, as if making sure Tristan didn't get any ideas, he added, "That means no stadium on matchday either. I don't want you anywhere near the team sheet. No training, no tactical meetings, nothing."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "So what you're saying is... I get a holiday?"

Pearson chuckled. "A short one. Don't get used to it."

Tristan laughed standing up. "Damn. I was thinking of booking a flight somewhere."

Pearson shot him a look. "Don't push it, Tristan."

Tristan laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Appreciate it, boss."

Pearson gave him a firm pat on the back. "Now get out of here."

Tristan stepped out of the office, the door clicking shut behind him, and let out a breath.

A weekend off.

The system can wait for a few matches.

That actually sounded nice.

If only he knew what was coming.

X

Tristan had just finished up at the training ground when he slid into the driver's seat of his car, exhaling as he tossed his gym bag onto the passenger seat.

The cool autumn air still clung to his skin as he got comfortable in the driver's seat, adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie. And on his head, pulled down just enough to shadow his curls?

Barbara's black cap.The same one she had given him in Milan.Tristan barely realized he had started wearing it everywhere.

He reached for his phone in the cupholder, checking his notifications. A few texts from the team group chat, some messages from his parents, but one name stood out immediately.

Barbara.

Barbara: Hey, you busy?

Tristan's brows furrowed slightly.

Tristan: Just leaving training. Why?

The three dots appeared instantly.

Barbara: I sent you a surprise gift. It should be landing at East Midlands Airport soon. Think you can pick it up?

Tristan stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the screen.

Tristan: Wait—what? What kind of gift?

Barbara: You'll see.

Tristan frowned, adjusting his grip on the phone.

Tristan: Barbara, what did you do?

Barbara: Nothing bad! Just go. Sophia will be there to deliver the gift."

Tristan exhaled, rubbing his jaw. Something about this felt off.He typed out one more text.

Tristan: This better not be a prank.

The reply came almost instantly.

Barbara: Would I ever do that?

Tristan scoffed, shaking his head.

Tristan: Yes. Maybe. I just met you like a week ago.

Barbara took a few seconds to respond this time.

Barbara: Just trust me.

Tristan chuckled under his breath.

Tristan: You make it sound like I should blindly walk into whatever this is.

Barbara: Exactly. Now hurry up.

Tristan sighed, tossing his phone back into the cupholder before shifting into drive.

Fine.

He'd go.

X

Forty Minutes Later....

Tristan pulled into East Midlands Airport, easing his car into a parking spot near the arrivals terminal. The glass exterior of the building reflected the pale blue sky, the sun only just beginning to climb higher.

He had been here plenty of times before, but never for something like this.

Tristan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at his phone again.

Barbara: Go inside. Baggage claim.

Tristan sighed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before typing a reply.

Tristan: For what? A mystery box?

Barbara: Just go, Tristan.

Tristan: Fine.

Still confused, he grabbed his phone and stepped out of the car, adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie as the cool morning breeze hit him

The moment he stepped inside, the shift was immediate.

People recognized him.

Some were subtle—quick glances, hushed whispers, a nudge here and there. Others? Not so much.

"Omg, is that Tristan?"

The murmurs started small but quickly gained momentum.

A young boy wearing a Leicester City jersey gasped audibly, tugging at his dad's sleeve.

"Dad! That's Tristan!"

The dad smiled, pulling out his phone. A group of fans near the arrivals board discreetly lifted their cameras, trying to get a shot of him without being obvious.

Tristan exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked further inside.

He wasn't here for the attention. He wasn't even sure why he was here.

Barbara: Are you inside yet?

Tristan: Yeah, and people are already taking pictures. Hope this surprise is worth it.

Barbara: Oh, it is. Keep going.

He let out a small huff, shaking his head as he navigated through the airport.

Just as he reached baggage claim, he heard a small, nervous voice.

"Um... excuse me?"

Tristan turned and saw the young boy from earlier—the one in the Leicester jersey—standing a few feet away, clutching the fabric of his shirt like he wasn't sure if he should be here. His dad stood behind him, smiling encouragingly.

Tristan crouched slightly so he was more at the boy's level. "Hey, mate."

The kid's eyes widened. "Y-You're my favorite player."

Tristan felt something warm settle in his chest. "Yeah? You play football?"

The boy nodded eagerly. "I want to be a midfielder like you!"

Tristan grinned. "That's a good choice. You got a name?"

"Oliver."

"Well, Oliver, I think you're gonna be a great player." He reached for the hat on his head—Barbara's hat—and adjusted it slightly. "But you need to promise me one thing."

Oliver nodded so fast Tristan was sure he was gonna give himself whiplash.

"Keep practicing, alright?" Tristan said, his tone genuine. "Even when it gets tough. Even when you don't feel like it. You keep going."

Oliver's grin stretched across his entire face. "I will!"

His dad pulled out his phone. "Would it be alright to get a picture?"

Tristan chuckled. "Course."

He knelt slightly, letting Oliver stand beside him as his dad snapped a quick photo.

"Thank you so much," the man said sincerely.

Tristan ruffled Oliver's hair. "See you on the pitch one day, yeah?"

Oliver nodded enthusiastically before Tristan stood and gave them a small wave.

As he turned back toward baggage claim, his phone buzzed again.

Barbara: Took you long enough. What were you doing, signing autographs?

Tristan: Something like that. Are you seriously not going to tell me what I'm here for?

Barbara: Nope. Just keep walking.

Tristan sighed but obeyed, dodging a few more camera flashes as he made his way deeper into the airport.

Tristan weaved through the bustling airport, ignoring the occasional flash of a phone camera. Sophia—who was allegedly supposed to be here—was nowhere in sight.

He sighed as he walked past baggage claim.

Then—

He saw her.

For a split second, his brain refused to register it.

Because there was no way.

No way.

No way Barbara Palvin—who was supposed to be in New York, halfway across the world—was standing in the middle of East Midlands Airport.

But she was.

Right there.

Standing near baggage claim, casually shifting her weight from foot to foot, scanning the crowd like she was looking for someone.

And God, she looked beautiful.

Her long, wavy brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, slightly tousled from the long flight. Loose strands framed her face, her natural glow only slightly dulled by exhaustion.

She wore a light, flowing white top, tucked into a pair of form-fitting beige trousers, the fabric effortlessly draping over her long legs. Over it, she had thrown on a lightweight, thin cardigan coat, a soft cream color that fluttered slightly as she shifted her weight. On her feet were white sneakers, looking perfect to him.

And then there was the hat.

His hat.

His blue Leicester City cap sat snugly on her head, just like it had in Milan when he first put it there.

The same hat she had kept all this time.

Barbara turned slightly, her head tilting as if she sensed something. Her brows furrowed for half a second before—

Her eyes landed on him.

For a moment, she just stared.

And that was when Tristan noticed it.

The exhaustion.

Not even the light layer of makeup could fully mask it. The slight puffiness under her eyes, the way her shoulders slumped just a fraction more than usual. The telltale signs of too many too many events, too little sleep.

But despite all of that—

She smiled.

Soft. Beautiful.

Barbara exhaled, her shoulders relaxing as she started walking toward him.

The moment they stood in front of each other, Barbara smiled—her usual teasing self, even with the exhaustion in her eyes.

"Surprise." barbara said, smiling, laughing, her arms pointed out.

Tristan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding."You're actually here."

Barbara tilted her head, her gaze flickering over his face like she was memorizing him all over again."Told you I had a gift for you."

Tristan huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. "This isn't a gift, Palvin. This is... something else."

Barbara's smirk grew as she reached up, tugging at the brim of his hat on her head.

"Disappointed?"

Tristan didn't even hesitate.

"Not even a little."

Barbara's teasing expression softened, her fingers still curled around the fabric of the cap.

And before Tristan even realized what he was doing—

He reached for her.

His arms slid around her waist, pulling her in gently.

Wrapping her arms around his torso, fitting against him like she had been doing it for years.

Even though this was their first hug.

She smelled like vanilla and something sweet—something undeniably her.

Barbara's fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, holding on a little tighter. "Hey."

Tristan smiled against her hair. "Hey."

Barbara's voice was quieter now, almost lost in the hum of the airport around them. "I missed you."

Tristan let out a slow breath, his fingers pressing into the small of her back, grounding himself in this moment.

Tristan turned his head slightly, "Missed you too."

Neither of them noticed.

The way people were watching.

The way phones were up, cameras snapping, capturing the moment.

The way gasps rippled through the crowd, growing louder by the second.

The way the entire airport seemed to pause—as if the world itself had momentarily stopped.

And then?

It happened in less than five minutes that internet went crazy with the pictures from the airport already spreading.

@PLUpdates: Tristan Hale picking up Barbara Palvin from the airport? IN LEICESTER? This is not a drill.

@FootballBanter: No one talk to me. This man is in LOVE.

@ModelUpdates: Barbara Palvin ran straight into Tristan Hale's arms like a damn movie scene. AND HE JUST STOOD THERE, HOLDING HER LIKE SHE WAS HIS ENTIRE WORLD. I'm unwell.

@Asmodeus_96: HE HASN'T LET GO OF HER FOR FIVE MINUTES, HELP.

@Nischay Rao: THEY ARE STILL WEARING EACH OTHER'S HATS. PEOPLE, I AM LOSING IT

@Hochmuetig: The way he just instinctively wrapped his arms around her... yeah, that's love.

@Asmodeus_96: Barbara's fingers were gripping his shirt like she never wanted to let go. Someone hold ME instead.

@DA Torres: Nah, why did this just make my whole week?

@Bek: Tristan Hale is officially the standard. No one else matters.

@vince_aratan: I don't even care about football but now I care about this.

......

The moment Tristan finally released Barbara from their hug, reality seemed to creep back in.

The moment Barbara finally stepped back from Tristan, reality caught up with them.

The background noise of the airport grew louder—the hum of luggage rolling across the tile, the faint crackle of announcements over the intercom, and the murmurs of people watching.

A medium-sized crowd had gathered, phones lifted, some whispering, some bold enough to step forward. It wasn't overwhelming, not like the mobbed scenes she sometimes faced at events, but it was different.

Barbara shifted slightly, her fingers instinctively tightening around the fabric of Tristan's hoodie. Not because she was nervous—she could handle attention—but because this was new.

Tristan, of course, noticed immediately.

He dipped his head slightly, lowering his voice just for her. "You alright?"

Barbara nodded, exhaling. "Yeah." She forced a small smirk. "Didn't think I'd be part of a Leicester City press conference today, though."

Tristan let out a small chuckle, his arm brushing against hers as he turned toward the fans. "Alright, let's make this quick, yeah?"

The fans didn't hesitate.

Some handed over their phones for selfies, others asked for autographs, a few gushed about the Manchester United game, still in awe of Leicester's 7-1 win.

Barbara hung back slightly, adjusting her cardigan coat as she watched Tristan interact. He was effortless. Charismatic but casual, giving each fan a moment without ever seeming impatient.

Then—

"Barbara!" A girl in a Leicester jersey stepped closer. "Can I get a picture with you?"

Barbara blinked, caught slightly off guard.

Not because she wasn't used to fans—she had been in the public eye for years—but because it was happening here.

Barbara exhaled and stepped forward with an easy smile. "Of course."

The girl beamed, snapping the picture.

More followed. A couple of people complimented her on her latest runway shows. Someone brought up a magazine cover she had done a few months ago.

As they finally stepped away, Tristan reached for her suitcase without a second thought, rolling it alongside him as they headed for the exit.

Barbara glanced at him. "I can carry my own bag, you know." She said trying not to smile at the action.

Tristan didn't even look at her. "Yeah. And I could let you."

Barbara huffed out a laugh. "Uh, you do remember I travel for a living?"

Tristan laughed, "Yeah. But you're not traveling anymore." He met her gaze. "You're here."

Barbara's fingers curled slightly around the sleeve of her coat, her chest warming at those words.

Because, yeah—she was.

The ride back from East Midlands Airport was quiet.

Barbara curled up in the passenger seat, legs tucked under her, fingers absently playing with the loose threads of her cardigan coat. Her head rested against the seat, her body finally relaxing after hours of travel.

Tristan, one hand on the steering wheel, stole quick glances at her between traffic lights.

She was exhausted.

And honestly? He wasn't surprised.

She had flown across the world after weeks of nonstop work—fashion weeks, red carpets, interviews, runway shows, and cameras flashing at every turn.

Yet somehow—

She was here.

For him.

The weight of that settled deep in his chest.

At the next red light, Tristan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel before finally breaking the silence, "You tired?"

Barbara blinked, as if she had almost dozed off. "Huh?"

"You just flew across the world. You're exhausted." Tristan said looking at her.

Barbara made a small noise, stretching her arms above her head. "I'm fine."

Tristan shot her a look. "Liar."

Barbara scoffed. "I'm serious."

Tristan hummed like he didn't believe her, then—

Before she could react, he reached over and gently flicked the brim of his hat on her head.

Barbara gasped, swatting his hand away. "Hey!"

Tristan chuckled, eyes still on the road. "You're falling asleep in my car, wearing my hat, and you still expect me to believe you're not tired?"

Barbara adjusted the cap back into place, giving him a flat look. "I don't know why I came here."

Tristan glanced at her amused, "Yeah?"

Barbara met his gaze, something teasing behind her eyes. "Yeah. You're annoying."

Tristan couldn't help but laugh at that, "I mean, your here, flying across the world." Tristan said keeping his eyes on the road, "So I don't think I'm that annoying."

Barbara sighed dramatically, resting her head back against the seat. "Worst decision I've ever made."

Tristan let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Keep telling yourself that, Palvin."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but she didn't argue trying her best to stay awake.

The hum of the engine filled the quiet space between them, a steady background noise as Tristan maneuvered through the Leicester streets.

Barbara stretched her legs slightly, resting her head against the seat, "Where are we going?"

Tristan glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Somewhere quiet."

Barbara hummed, her eyes fluttering shut for a second. "Sounds perfect."

Tristan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "You're really tired, huh?"

Barbara exhaled, tilting her head slightly toward him. "No, I'm full of energy."

Tristan huffed a small laugh. "Right. That's why you've yawned, what—six times now?"

Barbara peeked an eye open, smirking. "Four."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Five."

Barbara groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. "Fine. Maybe a little tired."

Tristan shook his head. "Not 'maybe.' Definitely."

Barbara sighed dramatically, stretching her arms out in front of her. "You gonna lecture me about sleep now, Hale?"

Tristan smiled at that thought. "Oh, absolutely."

Barbara rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "I had a long flight. What do you expect?"

Tristan glanced at her again, his voice quieter this time. "You didn't have to come, you know."

Barbara turned her head toward him, studying his profile. She softened. "I wanted to."

Tristan didn't respond right away. Instead, his fingers tapped against the steering wheel again, his mind working through something before he finally murmured—

"Yeah." His lips quirked slightly. "I know."

Barbara smiled to herself, watching the city blur past the window.

X

Victoria Park was exactly what they needed.

Tucked away in the heart of Leicester, it was quiet and peaceful with few people in it.

Barbara inhaled deeply, the evening air filling her lungs as she tugged at the edges of her coat. The lightweight fabric swayed slightly as she walked beside Tristan, her steps slow.

Tristan strolled beside her, hands in his pockets, glancing over as she let out a long, slow yawn.

His lips twitched. "You can sit if you want."

Barbara arched a brow, smirking. "Are you trying to get rid of me already?"

Tristan chuckled. "I just watched you yawn three times in the last minute."

Barbara sighed dramatically, as if offended by the mere suggestion of exhaustion. But when he nodded toward a wooden bench beneath the trees, she didn't argue.

She pulled off her cardigan coat, draping it loosely over her arm before collapsing onto the seat.

Tristan sat down next to her, his eyes flicking down to the fabric she had set beside her.

Barbara barely noticed when he grabbed it, too focused on stretching her legs out in front of her, letting out another soft exhale.

And then—before she could even think—

She let her head drop onto his shoulder.

Tristan stiffened for half a second.

Then—

He let himself relax.

Her hair tickled his jaw, her breath warm against the sleeve of his hoodie, and he could feel the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing—deepening, slowing.

It didn't take long.

Within minutes, she was asleep.

Tristan exhaled, adjusting his position slightly.

Then, without thinking, he took Barbara's cardigan coat and draped it over both of them, letting it rest over her arms and across his lap.

The fabric was soft, thin, but enough to keep the chill away.

Barbara shifted slightly in her sleep, nestling deeper into his shoulder.

And just like that—

He didn't move.

Tristan had officially lost feeling in his arm.

His legs were stiff, his fingers tingling from lack of movement, but he still refused to shift even an inch.

Because Barbara was still asleep.

And waking her up? Not an option.

Not after everything she had been through the past few weeks—the traveling, the long nights, the cameras flashing in her face, the exhaustion that even makeup couldn't completely hide.

She had flown across the ocean for him.

The least he could do?

Let her sleep.

But, of course—fans noticed.

It started small.

A couple of people walking past, doing a double take when they recognized the figure sitting on the bench.

Then came the whispers.

"Wait... is that Tristan?"

"No way."

"Bro. Bro. That's him."

"Is that his girlfriend on his shoulder?"

That was when the first fan got brave enough to approach.

A teenage boy stepped closer, glancing between Tristan and Barbara before hesitating. He shifted his phone in his hands, clearly debating whether to speak.

Tristan caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and sighed softly before looking up. "Yeah, can I help you?"

The kid hesitated before whispering, "Can I get a picture?"

Tristan glanced down at Barbara, her breathing still slow and even.

Then back at the kid.

"Only if you keep your voice down," he murmured, lifting a finger to his lips.

The kid's eyes went wide as he nodded furiously.

That was all it took.

Word spread fast.

Within minutes, a small crowd had formed.

Some were trying to be discreet—lifting their phones, recording from a distance.

A girl clutched her friend's arm. "Oh my God, he's actually just sitting there, letting her sleep."

Her friend covered her mouth, eyes wide. "He hasn't moved at all."

Another fan, a middle-aged man in a team jacket, grinned. "That's commitment."

A teenage boy adjusted his phone camera. "Nah, this is real love. My man is paralyzed so she can nap."

Tristan, at this point, had accepted his fate.

He shifted slightly—only enough to free his hand—and began signing autographs, all while keeping his other arm firmly around Barbara.

A girl stepped forward, her phone held up. "Tristan, can I—"

Tristan held up a hand, whispering, "Quiet, yeah?" He tilted his head toward Barbara.

The girl gasped, covering her mouth. "Oh my God."

More phones lifted.

More pictures.

More videos.

And of course they had to go viral as well.

Pluto: Tristan Hale seen at Victoria Park in Leicester, staying completely still so Barbara Palvin could sleep on his shoulder. 🥺💙

@FootballBanter: Man's literally paralyzed just so she can nap. This is love.

@ModelUpdates: Barbara Palvin is out COLD while Tristan is just casually signing autographs. We need a man like this.

@mlungisi_mguni: HE HASN'T MOVED. SOMEONE CHECK HIS PULSE.

@mlungisi_mguni: I was there. This man really whispered to us like she was a baby he just got to sleep. 💀

@FoxesForever: I've seen dedication on the pitch. But THIS? This is a different level.

@SupermodelFan: Tristan Hale, protector of Barbara's naps.

X

Two Hours Later....

Barbara stirred slightly, her fingers twitching against Tristan's hoodie.

Tristan glanced down, feeling the shift in her breathing first.

Then, slowly—her eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, she just blinked, clearly still caught between sleep and reality.

Then—

Her head lifted slightly from his shoulder, her brows furrowing.

She squinted. Looked around.

And immediately stiffened.

Tristan watched as realization dawned in real time.

Barbara's eyes went wide.

"Oh my God."

Tristan bit back a grin. "Morning."

Barbara's hand flew to her hair, as if to smooth it down, her voice still groggy. "How long was I out?"

Tristan glanced at his phone. "Almost two hours."

Barbara sat up fully now, her expression a mix of horror and disbelief.

"TWO?!" She shouted, mouth open.

Tristan chuckled, rolling his stiff shoulder. "Yeah, you kinda knocked out."

"Oh my God. I didn't mean to sleep that long." Barbara said shocked, dragging a hand down her face.

Her eyes darted back to Tristan. "Did people... see?"

Tristan leaned back slightly, resting an arm over the bench. "Oh yeah. A lot."

Barbara groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Tristan."

Tristan grinned, nudging her knee with his. "Relax. You were tired."

Barbara sighed, still looking slightly panicked. "I didn't mean to just pass out on you."

Tristan tilted his head. "You flew across the world to see me."

Barbara blinked.

Tristan's voice softened. "That's more than enough."

Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

She exhaled, looking up at him with a sleepy, almost shy smile.

"Yeah?"

Tristan nodded. "Yeah."

Barbara leaned into his side again, this time fully awake.

And for a moment—

They just sat there.

Follow curr𝒆nt nov𝒆ls on fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com.

..

6146 word count

Hopefully you guys like this Chapter

Now that pace may seem slow but those Chapters are broken in half from 12-20k long Chapters, that's why. And I went a little overboard setting up the foundation for the relationship and no one really stopped me as everyone was liking the Chapters on Patreon, lol.

I did post a bonus Chapter, I learnt my lesson, next time I do that shit again, I'm increasing the number for the requirement.

Also for that one guy who said I was botting, fuck you. I had 151 comments on the first Chapter, they were all deleted since I edited the entire Chapter, I didn't bot a single comment or review or power stones, piece of shit.

Anyway peace, and drop some power stones and comments