Sinbad
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Chapter 123: Back In England
🕑 Added 2025-02-07 22:25:20 +0000 UTCTristan stepped through the front door of his house, tossing his bag onto the nearest chair before collapsing onto the couch. His parents weren’t home yet, leaving the house in its usual peaceful quiet—a sharp contrast from the nonstop energy of Milan.
The flight from Italy had barely taken two hours, meaning he still had most of the day ahead of him. And yet, despite the short journey, Milan already felt like a different world.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, unlocked the screen—
Big mistake.
The first thing he saw? His and Barbara’s face.Everywhere.
Dozens of pictures flooded his Twitter timeline, snapped from every possible angle. Fans, paparazzi, even random people who happened to be in the right place at the right time. Somehow, the entire internet had become obsessed with him and Barbara.
The top post had already racked up over 300k likes.
A side-by-side comparison:
Left side: A paparazzi shot of Barbara in Milan, casually walking in her black cap.Right side: Tristan at the airport today, wearing that exact same black cap while scrolling through his phone.
Another tweet followed suit.
Left side: Tristan, before meeting Barbara in the café, wearing his blue Leicester City hat.Right side: Barbara in Milan wearing that exact same cap, strolling through the streets.
The fans had put it together alarmingly fast.
@Ashley_22: GUYS. THEY SWAPPED HATS. HE GAVE HER HIS. SHE GAVE HIM HERS. I’M LOSING MY MIND.
@Chandler Soho: THIS IS A COUPLE THING.
@TristansGirl99: This is the softest thing I’ve ever seen.
@renzyx11: No but WHY is this actually adorable??
Tristan exhaled through his nose, already regretting opening Twitter. He had noticed people taking pictures in Milan, but this many? He hadn’t expected this level of obsession.
And then came the videos.
A slightly shaky, fan-taken video from Milan.
The clip started with Tristan and Barbara stepping out of a restaurant, mid-conversation late at night.
Barbara adjusted the brim of his Leicester cap on her head while walking beside him. Tristan, hands in his pockets, was listening intently.
Then, she laughed and nudged his arm. Tristan, caught off guard, grinned and shook his head, his eyes lingering on her just a little too long.
It was barely ten seconds long.
But it was enough.
@HamzaKeita_9: Guys GUYS. LOOK AT THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER. I’M GONNA DIE.
@22_Biggestfan: Nahhh they’re way too comfortable with each other for this to be casual.
@BarbaraAndTristan4ever: THEY LOOK SO NATURAL TOGETHER WTF. The chemistry is insane.
@SpiceFootball: Not me analyzing this like a football match. That man is 100% GONE for her.
@TristansGirl8: She’s wearing his hat, they’re laughing, they’re walking like it’s second nature… yeah, it’s over for me.
Tristan rubbed a hand over his face. This was insane.
And, of course, among all the chaos, some people were still confused.
@GossipFutbol: Wait… wasn’t he dating Kendall Jenner?
@Chandler Soho: Didn’t Tristan and Kendall go on a few dates? What happened there??
Fans wasted no time shutting that down.
@KendallSource: That was literally just a rumor. The only proof people had was ONE dinner in LA, and after that, they were never seen together again.
@FootballTWT: Tristan himself said MULTIPLE times that he and Kendall were just friends. Y’all love making up stories.
@TristanFanpage: Also, have you SEEN how Tristan and Barbara interact?? This isn’t just some random dinner. This is DIFFERENT.
And then, of course, came the tabloids.
The Sun: “England’s Rising Star & Fashion’s It-Girl: The New Beckham & Spice Girl?”Daily Mail: “Tristan Hale & Barbara Palvin—Football’s Next Power Couple?”TMZ Sports: “Tristan Hale & Barbara Palvin Spark Dating Rumors After Milan Fashion Week Sightings!”
Tristan ran a hand down his face, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. Two days in Milan, and now the entire internet thought he and Barbara were a couple?
The articles. The fan edits. The ridiculous Beckham & Posh comparisons. Where did they even get that from?
He sighed, locking his phone and tossing it onto the couch before leaning back. Barbara had to have seen all of this by now.
Would she be annoyed? Embarrassed? He had no idea.
Tristan barely hesitated before hitting the FaceTime button. As the call rang, he ran a hand through his hair, tapping his fingers against his knee. Would she even pick up?
The screen shifted, and suddenly, Barbara was there—clear as day, straight from Milan.
She was lying on her bed, her back propped against a stack of pillows, her hair loosely tied up in a messy bun, a few strands falling over her forehead. Dressed in an oversized hoodie, she looked relaxed—though the glint in her blue eyes told him she was already amused.
“Hey, that was quick,” she greeted, tilting her head slightly. “What, you already miss me?”
Tristan exhaled a short laugh, leaning back against his couch. “I open Twitter, and apparently, we’re engaged now. Figured I should check in.”
Barbara’s lips parted in a quiet laugh, her shoulders shaking slightly. “Oh, you mean the headlines, the wild theories, and the internet deciding we’re the next Beckham and Posh? Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
Tristan sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “And you didn’t think to mention this at breakfast?”
Barbara shrugged, her expression casual, though the slight upward twitch of her lips gave away her amusement. “Didn’t want you to freak out.”
Tristan scoffed. “Barbara, our face is everywhere.”
Her eyes sparkled as she rested her cheek against her palm. “Exactly. Why stress over something that’s already out of our hands?”
Tristan studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “If it’s too much, I can talk to my agent—get some of the articles taken down.”
Barbara’s features softened, though her mouth remained curled in a playful way. “Tristan, relax. I’ve been in this business since I was a teenager. People making up stories about me? Not exactly breaking news.”
He still wasn’t convinced. “You’re sure you’re okay with it?”
Barbara sighed, dragging her fingers through her hair before stretching one arm lazily over her head. “I mean, unless you’re the one freaking out? Maybe you’re scared your ‘girlfriend’ will leave you now that it’s public?”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” He barely paused before adding, “Yet.”
Barbara’s brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by the sudden confidence in his voice. Then, after a beat, she let out a small laugh, rolling onto her side. “Yet, huh? That’s a bold statement.”
Tristan smirked, resting his chin on his palm. “Just saying. Never know what the future holds.”
Barbara’s lips pressed together, her blue eyes watching him through the screen, as if studying his face. “So mysterious.”
Before Tristan could fire back, a muffled groan came from the other side of the camera.
He squinted at the screen. “Who’s dying in the background?”
Barbara grinned before tilting the camera slightly, revealing Sophia sprawled out beside her, face buried into a pillow. Unlike Barbara, who looked effortlessly put together despite lounging around, Sophia looked done.
Her dark hair was a tangled mess, and she was still wearing yesterday’s clothes—wrinkled and slightly disheveled. One arm was dramatically draped over her face, while the other limply rested on her stomach.
“She’s been like this all morning,” Barbara said, shifting the camera back. “Was up all night working.”
A muffled voice came from the pillow. “Because some of us actually work for a living.”
Tristan chuckled. “That bad, huh?”
Barbara sighed dramatically. “She practically collapsed on my bed as soon as I walked in. I think I lost her.”
Sophia groaned louder. “You did this to me.”
Barbara rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You were the one who refused to sleep until every email was answered.”
Tristan smirked. “I respect the dedication.”
Sophia blindly waved a hand at the camera. “Thank you. Someone appreciates me.”
Barbara nudged her with her elbow. “Go to sleep, overachiever.”
Sophia weakly raised a thumbs-up before going completely still.
Barbara turned back to Tristan, her expression still carrying the faint remnants of laughter. “Anyway, what about you? What are you up to?”
Tristan glanced at the half-unpacked bags next to him. “Still unpacking. Kind of.” He rubbed his jaw. “Mostly just trying to process the fact that I was in Milan this morning, and now I’m back home like nothing happened.”
Barbara stretched, adjusting her hoodie. “Yeah, it’s weird, isn’t it? Feels like a different world over there.”
Tristan nodded. “Yeah. But I had a good time.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then, softer, “Me too.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. The kind that made Tristan almost forget they weren’t in the same room.
Then, he cleared his throat. “By the way… are you actually eating properly?”
Barbara frowned slightly. “What?”
“I’m serious.” Tristan adjusted the phone in his grip. “You barely ate at dinner. And don’t think I didn’t notice at breakfast either.”
Barbara groaned, flopping onto her back dramatically. “Oh my God, are you my dietitian now?”
Tristan smirked. “I could be.”
Barbara peeked at him through half-lidded eyes. “For how long?”
Without even thinking, Tristan said, “For the rest of your life.”
Barbara’s lips parted slightly, her fingers instinctively toying with the edge of her hoodie. For a moment, she didn’t respond. Then, a small, breathy laugh escaped her as she shook her head. “You really don’t waste time, do you?”
Tristan chuckled. “Just looking out for you.”
Barbara let out a mock sigh. “Well, don’t worry. I just ate a whole slice of cake, so you can sleep peacefully tonight.”
Tristan grinned. “Proud of you.”
Barbara laughed. “Good. I live for your approval.”
“You should.”
She shook her head, smiling. Why was talking to him this easy?
Then, shifting the topic, she asked, “Your next game is against United, right?”
Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
Barbara’s expression was smug. “Because I checked your schedule.”
Tristan’s lips twitched into a grin. “Wow. Keeping tabs on me already?”
Barbara tapped her chin as if in deep thought. “Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see you score a hat trick.”
Tristan let out an amused scoff. “Barbara, I’m a midfielder.”
She shrugged, looking thoroughly unbothered. “So? You seem capable. Unless… you’re not up for it?”
Tristan’s competitive streak kicked in immediately. “Oh, I’m up for it.”
Barbara grinned, satisfied. “Good.”
Another pause. The warmth between them lingered, unspoken but undeniable.
Then, softly, Barbara said, “I’ll be watching.”
Tristan felt something stir in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he liked it.
“Then I guess I better give you a good show.”
Barbara’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “You better.”
Before Tristan could say anything else, the familiar shuffle of keys and the rustle of shopping bags came from the entrance.
His mother’s voice called out. “Tristan?”
Barbara sighed. “Your parents?”
Tristan nodded. “Yeah.”
Barbara stretched, sitting up. “Then I’ll let you go. We’ll talk later, yeah?”
Tristan exhaled, then smirked. “Yeah. Get some rest.”
Barbara chuckled. “You too. Take care.”
And with that, the call ended.
Barbara set her phone down on the nightstand, her fingers lingering over the screen for a second before she exhaled and leaned back into the pillows. A small, almost involuntary smile played on her lips, and no matter how much she tried to fight it, she knew Sophia had already noticed.
"Oh my God," Sophia groaned dramatically, rolling onto her side, her head half-buried in a pillow. "That was, hands down, the corniest shit I’ve ever heard in my life."
Barbara arched an eyebrow, turning her head lazily to face her assistant. "What are you talking about?"
Sophia lifted her head slightly, looking at her like she’d just asked the dumbest question on the planet. "‘I could be your dietitian for the rest of your life’? Barbara. Be so for real right now."
Barbara groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and smacking Sophia with it. "Shut up."
Sophia let out a laugh, dodging another weak swing. "No, but seriously. You guys are ridiculous. It’s like watching one of those slow-burn romance movies where everyone but the main characters knows they’re into each other."
Barbara scoffed, unlocking her phone and aimlessly scrolling. "It’s not like that."
Sophia snorted. "Right. And I’m the Queen of England."
Barbara shot her a look. "You’re being dramatic."
Sophia sat up, resting her chin on her hand, a knowing glint in her eyes. "I don’t think I am. Do you think I didn’t see how he was looking at you?"
Barbara frowned slightly, the warmth from earlier creeping back onto her skin. "Looking at me how?"
Sophia leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if she were revealing some great secret. "Like you were the only person in the room."
Barbara opened her mouth to argue, but the words never came.
Sophia grinned. "Yeah, that’s what I thought."
Barbara rolled her eyes, shifting so she was lying on her side. "People make things up all the time. The internet thinks I’m dating someone new every other month."
Sophia hummed, feigning deep thought. "True. But they were right about you and Niall."
Barbara shut her mouth at that.
Sophia smirked. "Exactly."
Barbara sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Did the agency say anything?"
Sophia stretched her legs out, shaking her head. "Nope. They didn’t get involved in your past relationships, and they won’t get involved in this one either."
Barbara gave her a pointed look. "There is no ‘this one.’"
Sophia smirked. "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Barbara groaned. "I hate you."
Sophia grinned. "And yet, here you are, letting me stay rent-free in your hotel room."
Barbara sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "You’re insufferable."
Sophia nudged her. "So, be honest. Are you going to watch his game against United, or are you going to pretend you’re too busy?"
Barbara smirked, rolling onto her stomach, resting her chin on her arms. "What do you think?"
Sophia let out a laugh. "Yeah, you’re definitely watching."
Back in England, Tristan was in a completely different situation.
He wandered into the kitchen, where his mom, Julia, was already unpacking the groceries. A head of lettuce, a pack of chicken, some fresh vegetables—all neatly set on the counter as she pulled items out one by one. His dad, Ling, was by the fridge, putting things away in his usual meticulous manner.
Tristan stepped forward, grabbing a bag from the counter. "Here, let me help."
Julia gave him a side glance, pausing for a beat before raising an eyebrow. "Oh? You disappear for days, and now you’re suddenly the perfect son?"
Tristan smirked. "Thought I’d earn some good karma."
Ling chuckled, shutting the fridge door with his elbow as he set down a carton of eggs. "That, or he’s buttering us up for something."
Tristan scoffed, pulling out a bottle of olive oil. "Nothing like that." He paused. "Well… maybe dinner."
Julia snorted, shaking her head. "Knew it."
They fell into an easy rhythm—Tristan sorting the groceries, Julia occasionally pausing to ask about Milan while she rinsed vegetables in the sink.
"So," she said casually, setting a bundle of basil on the counter. "Anything interesting happen while you were there?"
Tristan knew where this was going. He focused on the pantry, placing a can of tomatoes on the shelf like it was the most important task in the world. "The show was cool. Lots of fashion. Fancy people. Probably not my scene, but it was fun."
Julia hummed, unimpressed. "That’s all?"
Tristan kept his expression neutral. "Met some people. Had a good time."
Julia dried her hands with a kitchen towel before turning to face him fully, crossing her arms. "I saw the pictures."
Of course she did.
Tristan exhaled through his nose. "It’s not—"
Julia held up a hand, stopping him. "Relax, I’m not prying." Then, a slow, knowing smirk spread across her lips. "But I will say, I already like her better than Kendall."
Tristan groaned, rubbing his temple. "Mum."
"What?" she said innocently, though the glint in her eyes was anything but. "She’s very pretty. And she wears your hat well."
Ling, still at the fridge, closed the door and finally chimed in. "Who’s Kendall?"
Julia turned to her husband with a grin. "Exactly."
Tristan had enough. "I’m going to go pack."
"Oh, don’t run away now," Julia called after him, laughing.
But he was already halfway out of the kitchen, shaking his head.
Tristan walked back into the living room and sighed when he saw the Millennium Falcon LEGO set still sitting unfinished on the coffee table. Pieces were scattered across the surface, some still in their original plastic bags, others half-assembled in the spots he had left them weeks ago.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
The plan had always been to finish it. At some point. Eventually.
But now?
His fingers drummed against the table before he finally moved, grabbing the original box from the corner of the room. He unfolded it carefully, then started packing everything inside piece by piece, making sure not to lose track of any parts.
The instruction manual went on top, neatly tucked in. Not that he needed it—he had practically memorized the steps after staring at them so many times.
As he sealed the box shut, he hesitated for a moment, then smirked slightly to himself.
If things with Barbara kept going the way they were… if they kept texting, if they kept talking like this, if she kept looking at him the way she did in Milan…
He slid the box beside the rest of his packed things.
Yeah. He could wait.
They’d be seeing each other again soon.
Julia placed the last of the groceries in the cupboard before wiping her hands on a dish towel. She exchanged a glance with Ling, who was setting down a bottle of soy sauce.
"She’s cute, huh?" Julia said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
Ling simply nodded. "Very."
Julia sighed contentedly. "I’m happy for them. He’s been so focused on football—he deserves to have something… fun. Someone who makes him smile like that."
Ling hummed, considering. "She seems good for him."
Julia grinned. "Oh, definitely. I mean, did you see how he was grinning at his phone earlier?"
Ling smirked, shaking his head. "Hopeless."
Julia chuckled, placing a hand on her hip. "Completely."
After packing away the Millennium Falcon, Tristan grabbed his phone from the couch and flopped back down, stretching his legs out as he unlocked the screen. He hadn’t properly checked his notifications since landing—besides texting Barbara—and now, he figured, was as good a time as any.
The Leicester City First Team group chat, which he had muted before Milan, was now unmuted.
And the sheer number of unread messages was… concerning.
562 new messages.
Tristan frowned. Oh, that’s not good.
He clicked in.
The first thing he saw?
A flood of pictures.
All of him and Barbara.
Vardy had, of course, led the charge.
— Jamie Vardy: Oi lads, our golden boy went to Milan and bagged a supermodel. 💀💀💀
— Jesse Lingard: Forget goals, my man out here collecting Victoria’s Secret models like trophies. 🏆😂
— Danny Drinkwater: Bro really swapped hats with her. HATS. That’s couple behavior. 👀👀👀
— Wes Morgan: Can’t lie, you two look good together. Respect. 👏
— Riyad Mahrez: Tristan Hale. Footballer. Playmaker. International Loverboy.
— Marc Albrighton: We need to put his Leicester cap in a museum. It’s legendary now.
Tristan groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Of course, they all saw it.
He scrolled further up, realizing this had been going on since yesterday.
The worst part? It wasn’t just pictures.
Vardy had gone full investigator mode, posting screenshots of tweets, reactions, and even a slowed-down video of Barbara waving at him on the runway.
— Jamie Vardy: Nahhh look at this, she didn’t even do this for DiCaprio. 😭😭😭
— Jesse Lingard: Tristan is HIM. 🔥
— Kasper Schmeichel: So when’s the wedding?
Tristan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. This is never going to die down.
Taking a deep breath, he finally decided to type a response.
— Tristan Hale: You lot done yet? Or do I need to block the whole team?
The chat instantly exploded.
— Jamie Vardy: Ohhh he’s MAD. 🤣
— Jesse Lingard: Man’s in his feelings. 🥹
— Riyad Mahrez: Just admit it, bruv. She’s special.
Tristan paused at that one.
Yeah.
Maybe she was special.
But there was no way in hell he was giving them that satisfaction.
— Tristan Hale: Good to know none of you have anything better to do.
— Jamie Vardy: Oh trust me, mate, this is the best entertainment we’ve had all season.
Tristan closed his eyes, already dreading training tomorrow.
Maybe if he pretended to have an injury, Pearson would let him train indoors.
Wishful thinking.
Tristan sighed. Tomorrow was going to be hell.
…..
Next Morning
the team made their way onto the pitch for warm-ups. Dew clung to the blades of grass, the ground slightly damp beneath their boots. The usual routine was in place—light jogs, dynamic stretches, passing drills—but Tristan knew today was going to be anything but normal.
He’d seen the group chat last night.
He knew what was coming.
And, right on cue—
"Oi, look who it is! The fashion icon himself!"
Vardy’s voice rang out across the pitch, loud enough for the entire stadium to hear. Tristan exhaled sharply, shaking his head as Vardy jogged over, grinning like a man who had just won the lottery.
Behind him, Lingard was already laughing, practically bouncing on his feet.
"Nah, forget football," Lingard said, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Man’s out here swapping hats with supermodels. Is this what international stardom looks like?"
"Good morning to you too," Tristan muttered, rolling his shoulders.
Vardy smirked, slapping a hand on Tristan’s back. "Nah, don’t ‘good morning’ me. I need answers."
Tristan sighed. "About what?"
"About why I woke up, checked my phone, and saw you and Barbara Palvin trading hats like it was some kind of footballer-model exchange program," Vardy said, crossing his arms like an interrogator.
Lingard shook his head dramatically. "That wasn’t even the funniest part. The way your fans lost their minds when she wore your Leicester City cap? Iconic."
Drinkwater, passing by with a water bottle in hand, grinned knowingly. "And then you show up at the airport wearing her black hat? You weren’t even trying to be subtle, bro."
Tristan ran a hand through his hair, knowing there was no way out of this. "Alright, let’s get this over with. Just roast me now and be done with it."
"Oh no, no, no," Vardy grinned. "We’re not roasting you. We’re impressed."
Tristan blinked. That caught him off guard. "Wait, what?"
Mahrez, who had been stretching nearby, finally chimed in, his expression unreadable. "I mean, we all saw it coming."
Tristan frowned. "Saw what coming?"
Mahrez tilted his head slightly, eyeing him like he was stating the obvious. "The way you two looked together. Even before the hat thing, there was something there."
Morgan, the team captain and usually the most level-headed of the group, let out a chuckle. "Yeah, you lot didn’t exactly look like strangers, mate."
Tristan scoffed, trying (and failing) to fight off a grin. "You lot analyze this more than our actual matches."
"To be fair," Lingard said, arms crossed, "this is the most interesting transfer Leicester’s been involved in all year."
That set everyone off
Tristan sighed, shaking his head. He should’ve known coming back here wouldn’t be peaceful.
After a grueling training session filled with relentless teasing from his teammates, Tristan barely had time to catch his breath before being ushered into the media room alongside Vardy and Mahrez. The space was packed—reporters seated shoulder to shoulder, cameras rolling, microphones positioned to catch every word.
Leicester’s manager, Nigel Pearson, had already taken his turn at the podium, discussing tactics, team selection, and the importance of maintaining their strong form. Now, it was the players’ turn to face the press.
Tristan adjusted the mic in front of him, his Leicester City tracksuit still damp from training. Mahrez, leaning back in his chair, looked completely unbothered, while Vardy—grinning like he was up to something—sat forward, already anticipating the inevitable.
And, of course, the first question wasn’t about football at all.
"Tristan, let’s address the elephant in the room. Your name has been trending on social media for the past day—not just for football, but for your trip to Milan, Fashion Week, and a certain supermodel. Care to comment?"
Vardy immediately let out a low chuckle, and Mahrez smirked, clearly enjoying this far too much.
Tristan exhaled through his nose, already knowing this was coming. "I went to Milan for Fashion Week, had a great time, watched an incredible show. That’s all there is to it."
The reporter wasn’t satisfied. "And Barbara Palvin?"
Tristan kept his expression neutral. "She’s great company. We hung out, had some good conversations."
Vardy, barely able to contain himself, leaned into the mic. "And swapped hats."
The room erupted into laughter, cameras flashing as Tristan shot Vardy a look before shaking his head.
"Yeah," Tristan admitted, the corner of his lips twitching. "And we swapped hats."
Mahrez, his voice laced with amusement, chimed in. "You lot analyze this more than our actual match tomorrow."
The laughter continued for a moment before another reporter brought the focus back to football.
"Alright, let’s talk about the game. You’re facing Manchester United this weekend. How are you approaching this match?"
Vardy, always confident, took the question. "Same way we approach every match—hard work, pressing high, and making sure they know they’re in for a fight. We respect them, but we don’t fear them."
Mahrez nodded in agreement. "We’ve got quality. We’ve shown it all season. It’s about staying sharp, taking our chances, and playing our game."
The attention shifted back to Tristan. "Tristan, statistically speaking, you’ve been one of the most in-form midfielders this season. You’re leading Leicester in assists, and your goal contributions have been crucial in recent matches. Do you think you’re the best player in the league right now?"
Tristan didn’t even hesitate.
"Yeah," he said, matter-of-factly.
The room stirred immediately, reporters glancing at each other, surprised by the confidence in his voice.
"Seriously?" one of them pressed.
Tristan leaned forward slightly. "Name one player performing better than me in the league right now."
Silence.
Mahrez grinned, sitting up. "He’s got a point."
Vardy laughed, nudging Tristan’s arm. "Nah, I rate it. He’s got the numbers to back it up. Stats don’t lie."
The reporters quickly scrambled for a follow-up.
"So would you say your goal against United is to score?"
Tristan smirked. "That’s always the goal."
Vardy cut in, wagging a finger. "Or assist me, yeah?"
Tristan let out a short laugh, nodding. "That too."
More football-related questions followed—team tactics, the mentality in the dressing room, even questions about England.
As the press conference neared its end, one last reporter—clearly enjoying himself—threw in a cheeky final question.
"Tristan, any special motivation for this match? Maybe someone watching?"
The second the words left the reporter’s mouth, Mahrez and Vardy both turned to Tristan, grinning like kids who had just heard the best gossip of the year.
Tristan exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a knowing smile. "Motivation’s always there, regardless of who’s watching."
The media officer quickly wrapped up the session, thanking everyone before signaling the players to leave.
As they stepped away from the cameras, Vardy nudged Tristan, still smirking.
"You handled that well. But, mate," he said, chuckling, "we all know she’s watching."
Mahrez patted Tristan on the back. "Better make it a good performance, yeah? Can’t disappoint your biggest fan."
Tristan rolled his eyes, but the grin tugging at his lips refused to fade.
Because, honestly?
They were right.
He had never wanted to score a hat-trick so badly in his life.
Tomorrow, under the bright lights, with Barbara—he wasn’t just going to beat United.
He was going to destroy them.
………….
Another original chapter, this one about 5k, I had a lot of fun writing this, not gonna lie, lmao. It was good for me to get rid of some stress.
Now if your a United fan, I would suggest just skipping the next 3 chapters. Irl in the game, it was 5-3, Leicester City destroyed United. Now think whats going to happen in this situation, lmao.
Besides that if you guys have any thoughts, comments or anything else do let me know. And I appreciate some comments on this chapter, it’s helpful and helps me decided on how to continue the story.
And also we are back to daily chapters as well.
Comments
Engebu
Great chapter!
l K
but clap it up you done did it gaffer
l K
need the chapter now gaffer
Марк
The best chapter at the moment is 100/100
Jerôme
Great chapter.
BrandonA
Great Work. I'm not gonna say anything else besides this: 100/10.
TheOneWhoReads
Great chapter :) more plz!!
