England's Greatest

Chapter 153 - A Night of Reflection Part 2 (End)

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..

Two Days Later....

The living room felt different tonight.

It wasn't just a casual space anymore—it had become a war room for Tristan's future, with papers spread across the coffee table, Mendes' laptop open, and Sophia tapping away on her iPad like a general strategizing a campaign.

Barbara, however, was unbothered, curled up on the couch with her tea mug, her legs stretched over Tristan's lap, watching the negotiations unfold like prime-time entertainment.

Mendes turned his laptop toward Tristan. "Before we get into your hospital visit, let's take a look at how far you've come."

The first slide displayed Tristan's initial sponsorship portfolio after his break out in the World Cup.

✔ Nike

✔ Oakley

Mendes leaned back, folding his arms. "These were great at the time, but now? Now, you're in a different league."

He clicked forward to the next slide.

✔ Range Rover

✔ Oakley

✔ Burberry

Tristan nodded as he scanned the list. "Everything's on track."

Mendes gave a small nod, voice casual."And now, let's talk about what's coming next."

He clicked to the next slide with the bold title: New High-End Sponsorships – Signing Today

✔ Dior

✔ Saint Laurent

✔ Giorgio Arman

Mendes slid a thick stack of contracts toward Tristan, his expression all business.

"Read through these, then sign."

Tristan grabbed the top folder, his fingers flipping through the pages until his eyes landed on one section in particular.

Three-Year Deal, £20 Million Total—Face of Dior's New Fragrance Campaign (2015 Launch)

- Exclusive Global Fashion Campaigns in Europe & Asia

- Fashion Week Appearance (One-Time Runway Walk, Pre-Approved by Tristan's Team)

- Mandatory Social Media Promotion (15 Posts Per Year, Integrated into Football Content)

Barbara leaned in slightly, her eyes flickering over the contract before her lips parted in disbelief.

"Wait. You're going to be the face of a Dior fragrance? Like, billboards, TV ads, the whole thing?"

Mendes smirked, nodding. "Exactly. Think 'Dior Homme,' but instead of Robert Pattinson, it's you."

Barbara leaned back, shaking her head. "That's actually insane."

Tristan tilted his head, flicking to the runway clause.

"So, I really have to walk the runway?"

Sophia glanced up from her iPad, smirking. "Yes. But just once. We made sure of that. And we get to which event as well, so don't worry about that for now."

Barbara grinned, nudging him with her foot. "Oh, that's going to be fun. Sophia, see if they'd be open to making it a joint thing with me."

"Already sent the request," Sophia replied smoothly, fingers flying over her screen.

Tristan sighed, his shoulders dropping slightly."Fine. If Beckham can do it, so can I."

Mendes chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn right."

Mendes slid another folder toward him.

Saint Laurent

Two-Year Deal, £12 Million Total

Featured in Major Fashion Magazine Covers & Editorial Campaigns

Attendance at Special Events (Guaranteed Appearances at Cannes & Met Gala – Dates Aligned with Off-Season)

Mandatory Social Media Promotion (Quarterly Editorial Features)

Barbara let out a low whistle, tilting her head.

"That's hot."

Tristan arched an eyebrow, flipping through the details. "So, I'm a full-time model now?"

Sophia shrugged, amused. "Global athlete. Global icon. You wanted this, right?"

Tristan's fingers tapped against the Cannes & Met Gala clause. "Both events?"

Mendes nodded, already anticipating the question. "Yep. And before you ask, both fall outside of the football season."

Barbara looked up at him, a playful glint in her eyes."Good. Because I'm making sure we both show up looking like royalty."

Tristan chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't doubt it."

Mendes tapped the last folder.

Giorgio Arman

Three-Year Deal, £6 Million Total Exclusive Custom Tuxedo & Formalwear Collaboration Required Attendance at Major Football Events (Ballon d'Or, FIFA Best, UEFAEvent – All Scheduled in Off-Season or International Breaks) Joint Appearances with Barbara at Select High-Profile Events Quarterly Social Media Posts Showcasing Armani Suits, Integrated with Matchday & Footballer Lifestyle Content

Barbara arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her expression."So, we're a package deal now?"

Mendes gave a brief shrug, eyes gleaming. "Pretty much. The fashion world loves a power couple."

Barbara tapped her nails against her tea mug, feigning deep thought."Interesting. Maybe I should get a commission on your deals."

Sophia looked up from her iPad, her tone dry but entertained."Don't worry, Barbara, your own list of brands is coming soon. Your agency and Sophia 2.0 are finalizing everything."

Barbara tilted her head, giving Sophia a knowing look."I know. I'm just waiting for her to send them over."

Tristan flipped through the contracts, his eyes scanning the details.

Dior. Saint Laurent. Armani.

Barbara watched as he took the pen Mendes handed him and signed each contract.

As he finished the last signature, she tilted her head, watching him.

"You just made millions, babe, congrats."

Tristan exhaled, closing the final contract folder.

Then, after a moment, he muttered under his breath—

"Vardy is never going to let me live this down."

Barbara burst into laughter, already imagining the chaos in the Leicester dressing room when they found out.

"Oh, what I would do see to see their reaction live."

Mendes wasted no time. The last contract had barely settled on the table before he was flipping open a new set of documents, shifting the focus of the conversation.

"Alright, that's your brand expansion locked in." He tapped the papers in front of him. "Now, let's talk about what we're doing with your money."

Tristan dragged a hand down his face. "Mate, I just agreed to model and sell cologne. Can I at least have five minutes to pretend I'm done working today?"

Barbara, lounging beside him, crossed her legs and took a sip of tea. "You know Mendes doesn't believe in breaks."

Across from them, Sophia glanced up from her iPad, adjusting the figures. "It's cute that you thought you were done for the day."

"Adorable, really," Mendes added without looking up, already flipping through the first few pages.

Tristan exhaled, grabbing one of the financial documents but not bothering to read it yet. "I need a drink."

Barbara arched an eyebrow. "Since when do you drink?"

He flipped a page, then shrugged. "Fine. Not alcohol. I need some tea."

Mendes didn't even acknowledge the detour in conversation.

"You'll need focus for this anyway. We are talking about your money here."

Tristan rubbed his temple, knowing there was no escaping it. "Alright, alright. Let's get started."

"Good, now focus and pay attention," Mendes said transfering the slides to the Tv.

Sophia cleared her throat, glancing between Tristan and the screen. "We've officially set up a dedicated investment team to oversee everything. From now on, they'll send you weekly updates—performance summaries, key reports, and anything that needs urgent approval."

Mendes tapped a financial report on the table. "You don't need to micromanage, just review and approve where necessary. This strategy is designed to build long-term security."

Barbara rested her chin on her palm, looking between them. "Alright, let's hear the breakdown."

70-80% – Low-cost S&P 500 Index Funds (Invested in the top 500 US companies for steady, long-term growth.)

10% – Short-term Government Bonds (Mix of US & UK bonds, providing security and liquidity.)

10-20% – High-growth stocks (Investing in select companies expected to rise significantly.)

Tristan tilted his head, skimming the numbers. "So what does that look like in real numbers?"

Mendes flipped the page. "We've increased your investment allocation. Approximately 30% of your total income—just over £4 million—is now being invested. And the 30% is not including the money going to your mom's account.Here's the breakdown:"

£2.8M → S&P 500 Index Funds (Steady growth, long-term returns)

£400K → Short-term Government Bonds (Low risk, safe fallback money)

£800K → High-growth stocks (Calculated risk investments)

Barbara straightened slightly, her brow lifting. "Wait. That's a lot of money just sitting in stocks. You're really betting big on this?"

Tristan flipped a page before setting the document down. "Not betting. Just making sure I don't wake up broke in twenty years."

Mendes leaned back slightly. "Exactly. We're structuring this so even if you retired tomorrow, your wealth continues growing. No crazy risks. Just smart, long-term plays."

Sophia pointed at the TV screen, where several company names were listed.

Apple (Established, strong long-term investment.)

Amazon (Consistent and steady growth.)

Google (Alphabet) (High-value tech leader.)

Microsoft (Continued market dominance.)

Netflix (Expected to grow but should be monitored closely.)

Tesla (High-risk, high-reward, still early in its growth.)

Barbara frowned slightly, arms crossed as she studied the screen. "Okay, I know Apple and Amazon. But... Netflix? Tesla? Are they even that big right now?"

Tristan paused, realizing that from her perspective, this looked like a gamble.

It was 2014.

Tesla was still considered niche, and Netflix had yet to become the global streaming giant it would eventually be.

Sophia tapped her pen against her iPad, already anticipating the pushback. "It's part of the higher-risk portion of the portfolio. If it pays off, it'll be huge. If not, it won't hurt the core investment strategy."

Barbara glanced at Tristan.

"And you're sure about this?"

"Look, Tristan's the boss here. We don't know if this is going to be a goldmine or a bust, but he says these companies are worth putting money into, so we're following through." Mendes said stepping in.

Barbara rolled her eyes, setting down her mug. "So basically, you guys are blindly trusting his instincts?"

Tristan glanced at her,"You sound like you don't believe in me."

Barbara leaned in, resting her chin on his shoulder, voice teasing. "Oh, I believe in you. I just think you should let me invest some of that money into a nice vacation house in the south of France instead."

Sophia laughed, shaking her head. "We'll discuss real estate investments next quarter."

Tristan flipped the next page, his brow furrowing slightly.

10% of the portfolio → Short-term government bonds for financial security.

"And this is the boring part?" He glanced at Sophia, waiting for her to confirm.

She smiled, adjusting the figures on her screen. "Yes. But also the smart part. If the stock market ever crashes, bonds keep your money safe and still generate guaranteed returns."

Barbara tapped her nails lightly against the couch, glancing at the screen. "So... emergency money?"

Sophia nodded. "Exactly."

Tristan exhaled, crossing his arms.

"Alright, makes sense."

Flipping to the last page, Tristan skimmed the summary:

70-80% in S&P 500 Index Funds – Slow & Steady Growth

10% in Short-Term Government Bonds – Safety Net

10-20% in High-Growth Stocks – Higher Risk, Higher Reward

Barbara nudged him, her voice lighter now. "Feeling like a businessman yet?"

Tristan twirled the pen between his fingers, letting the numbers settle before signing. "Something like that."

Mendes placed the final contract in front of him, watching as Tristan scribbled his signature. "That's it. We're officially locked in."

[ I'm pretty sure I wrote something about the investments before but Mark wanted this and who am to deny the backbone of this story. ]

Sophia adjusted her iPad, tapping a few buttons before mirroring her screen to the TV display. A detailed itinerary appeared, listing Leicester Children's Hospital – October 30th, 2 PM at the top.

"So, on the 29th, you and Barbara will arrive at the hospital around 2 PM," she began, scrolling through the details. "No media, no press—this is completely private."

Tristan gave a small nod, his jaw tightening slightly. "Good. I don't want cameras in the kids' faces."

Mendes exhaled, rubbing his chin. "You sure? This is the kind of thing that would look great for your brand."

Barbara glanced at Tristan, watching the way his shoulders tensed, his fingers lightly tapping against the couch.

"It's not about my brand," he said after a pause. "It's about them."

Sophia gave a small nod of acknowledgment. "Understood. The hospital staff is aware that this is private. You'll be meeting with about twenty kids—ages ranging from toddlers to early teens. Some of them are in wheelchairs, others are undergoing treatments, but they're all big football fans. A few even have Leicester kits with your name on the back."

Tristan's gaze fell to the table in front of him, his fingers trailing along the edge as he absorbed the words.

He exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Why me?"

Mendes frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Tristan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice was quieter this time, almost like he was speaking more to himself than anyone else.

"Why do I get to chase my dreams while kids like them are stuck fighting battles they never asked for? What makes me so special?"

The room fell into a brief silence.

Barbara gripped her mug a little tighter, her blue eyes scanning his profile. She had seen this side of him before—the guilt, the weight he carried—but he rarely said it out loud.

Sophia was the first to respond, her voice steady but soft. "You can't think like that."

Tristan let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "How else should I think? I get to play football. Travel the world. Sign deals with luxury brands. Meanwhile, those kids would give anything just to be healthy. And I—"

He stopped himself, pressing his lips together before shaking his head, his hands clasped together in front of him.

Barbara reached over, her fingers brushing against his arm before she wrapped her hand around his forearm, giving a gentle squeeze.

"You're doing something about it, Tristan. That's what matters."

Sophia nodded in agreement, her voice quieter now. "You being there for them, even for a few hours, will mean the world to them."

Mendes sighed, rubbing his temple before leaning back into the chair. "Look, I get the guilt. But at the end of the day, this is the life you have. What matters is what you do with it."

Tristan let out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the couch as he stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Finally, his shoulders relaxed slightly as he exhaled again.

"This visit isn't about me. It's about them."

Barbara's fingers squeezed his arm once more. "Exactly."

Mendes checked his watch, then stood, dusting off his jacket. "Alright. That's it for today. Sophia and I will handle everything behind the scenes. You two just show up and make the kids happy."

Tristan gave a small nod, rolling his shoulders before stretching his arms behind his head. "Got it."

Barbara leaned into him slightly, her head tilting as she studied him. "I think this visit is going to be good for you too."

Tristan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he simply let out a small, tired exhale, the tension in his face softening.

"We'll see."

Sophia stood, slipping her iPad into her bag before adjusting the strap on her shoulder. "I'll check in on the morning of the 30th before we head out. You two get some rest."

Mendes patted Tristan on the shoulder, his tone lighter this time. "Good work today. And don't overthink the visit—just be yourself."

Tristan nodded, running a hand through his curls as he sat back into the couch, his gaze flickering toward the floor for a moment.

Barbara waited until the door closed behind them, listening as Mendes' car rolled out of the driveway before turning back to him.

"You okay?"

Tristan let out a slow breath, his fingers tapping lightly against the couch. "Yeah."

Barbara shifted closer, curling into his side. "You're a good person, you know that?"

Tristan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I try."

She rested her head against his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. "You do more than try, Tristan."

Barbara shifted beside him, adjusting herself as she curled deeper into his side. Her head rested against his chest, her fingers idly tracing soft patterns along his arm. The warmth of her body was grounding, a quiet contrast to the whirlwind that had filled his mind lately.

Tristan exhaled slowly, his hand absentmindedly running through her soft waves as he stared at nothing in particular.

Barbara must have sensed something because she glanced up, her voice gentle but certain. "You're thinking too much."

"That obvious?" Tristan asked breaking out of his trance.

Barbara shifted slightly, adjusting so she could look at him properly. "You've been like this for days."

She wasn't wrong.

There was a lot going on in his mind and no one to talk it about it. What could he even say to Barbara or to anyone else.

Barbara didn't press him for answers, didn't try to force him to talk. Instead, she just stayed close, her fingers continuing their slow, absentminded movements against his skin.

Tristan sighed, shifting so he could pull her closer, his arm tightening around her waist.

Barbara let him, settling against his chest, her breathing steady as they went to sleep.

Next Morning...

The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp grass as the sun barely peeked over the horizon. Belvoir Drive was already alive with movement—the squad filtering onto the training ground, boots pressing into the softened turf.

Tristan rolled his shoulders, the remnants of sleep still lingering in his muscles. His mind, however, was elsewhere—drifting back to the warmth of the bed he had left behind.

Barbara had been half-asleep when he slipped out, her body curled into the sheets, soft waves of hair splayed across his pillow. He had almost stayed longer, but football came first.

Even if his thoughts still felt a little distracted.

With a sharp exhale, he shook the feeling away, forcing his focus back onto the pitch as he jogged onto the field. His cleats sank into the damp grass, the familiar sensation grounding him.

Near the sidelines, Pearson stood with his arms crossed, his usual intense gaze sweeping across the players as they moved through their warm-up routines.

Tristan veered toward him before training fully kicked off.

"Coach, can I ask you something?"

Pearson barely turned his head, lifting an eyebrow. "If you're asking for a day off, the answer is no. You've had enough breaks. We need you now."

Tristan let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Not what I'm asking."

Pearson studied him for a second before gesturing for him to continue.

"I want to host a small Halloween thing for the squad. Nothing wild—just food, music, good vibes. No drinks, no nonsense. I'll keep it controlled."

Pearson's brows knit together slightly, though he didn't immediately shut it down.

"And you're telling me this because...?"

Tristan shrugged, shifting his weight slightly. "Out of respect. If I'm hosting something with the team, I want you to know about it first. No surprises."

Pearson exhaled through his nose, his gaze drifting across the rest of the squad as they continued warm-ups. He was silent for a moment before finally speaking.

"And you're the one keeping them in check?"

"Yeah."

A long pause.

Then, with a sigh, Pearson tilted his head slightly, finally giving in.

"Alright. As long as it doesn't affect training, and no one shows up hungover the next day, I don't have a problem with it."

Tristan allowed himself a small grin. "Appreciate it, coach."

Pearson, however, wasn't done. He narrowed his eyes slightly, his voice lowering just a fraction.

"You throw a party, you take full responsibility. You keep things controlled. If I hear about anything stupid, you'll be running laps until New Year's."

Tristan chuckled, knowing there wasn't a single part of that statement that was a bluff.

"Got it."

Pearson grunted, clearly satisfied enough with the answer. "Good. Now get to work."

The locker room buzzed with the usual post-training chatter—boots being unstrapped, jerseys tossed into laundry bins, and a few players groaning about Pearson's relentless drills. The air was thick with sweat and damp grass, the scent clinging to the walls.

Tristan peeled off his soaked jersey, tossing it into his locker before grabbing a towel. His mind was still on the conversation with Pearson earlier. Now was as good a time as any.

He turned toward the team, raising his voice just enough to cut through the noise.

"Guys, listen up."

A few heads turned in his direction, but the usual low chatter continued.

"I'm hosting a Halloween thing. Nothing crazy—just food, music, good vibes. No drinks, no trouble. If you're in, let me know."

There was a beat of silence, players exchanging glances.

Then—

"I'm in!"

Jesse Lingard's voice practically echoed off the walls. He was grinning like a kid on Christmas, towel draped around his shoulders.

"Bro, say less. I'll bring my costume and everything."

Tristan chuckled, shaking his head. "Of course, you would."

Lingard nudged Vardy with his elbow, practically bouncing on his feet. "Come on, you're in too, right?"

Vardy leaned back against his locker, "Yeah, why not?"

Mahrez gave a relaxed nod, running a towel through his hair. "I'll come."

Schmeichel, still tying his shoelaces, looked up and folded his arms. "As long as I don't have to deal with Vardy drunk-dancing, I'm there."

Vardy scoffed, nudging his foot in Schmeichel's direction. "I wasn't even that bad last time."

"You tried to backflip off a table, mate," Schmeichel said dryly.

The locker room erupted into laughter, even those who'd been half-distracted now turning to watch.

Kramarić shrugged, tossing his towel onto the bench. "Sure. Sounds fun."

Ulloa pulled on his hoodie, chuckling under his breath."Haven't done Halloween in years. Why not?"

Tristan nodded, expecting a mix of responses. But as he turned toward the other half of the room, he saw some of the older players shaking their heads.

"Nah, mate. Got plans with the wife and kids," Wes Morgan said with a small smirk, tossing his boots into his bag.

Konchesky let out a short laugh. "Missus already planned a family thing. If I back out, I might as well start sleeping outside."

Matty James grinned, adjusting his watch. "Got a dinner planned, but enjoy yourselves."

Tristan nodded, unfazed. "No worries. Just wanted to put it out there."

Lingard, still full of energy, leaned forward with an eager grin. "Alright, but the real question is—what's everyone dressing up as?"

Vardy barely missed a beat before shooting Tristan a look.

"He should go as a model. Since he's got all these fashion deals now."

The room exploded with laughter, players whistling and clapping in mock approval.

"Dior boy!" Schmeichel called out, shaking his head. "Don't forget to walk the runway when you show up!"

Tristan rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face betrayed him.

"Funny."

Lingard pointed at him, still grinning. "Nah, for real. You better show up in something good, bro. No excuses."

Tristan grabbed his bag from the bench, shaking his head as he slung it over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah."

Now he just had to figure out a costume, which Barbara is already probably planning.

..

The moment Tristan walked into the house, he knew Barbara was up to something.

She was curled up on the couch, laptop balanced on her thighs, a notebook beside her, and her concentration face locked in. That was never a good sign.

Tristan kicked off his sneakers, narrowing his eyes as he walked over. "You look way too focused for something that isn't work."

Barbara didn't even glance up. "I'm busy."

Tristan leaned down, peering over her shoulder, and immediately groaned.

"Oh no."

The webpage? A list of anime couples.

Barbara finally looked up at him, smiling like she had just discovered the greatest idea of all time. "Oh yes. We're doing a couples costume."

Tristan flopped onto the couch beside her, rubbing a hand down his face. "Why did I know you were going to say that?"

Barbara nudged him with her knee, shifting closer. "Because you know me. Now focus—we have options."

She turned the laptop toward him, revealing a painstakingly organized list.

Naruto & Hinata

✔ Howl & Sophie

✔ Inuyasha & Kagome (Would require Tristan to wear a white wig.)

✔ Spike & Faye (Cowboy Bebop. Cool.)

✔ Vegeta & Bulma (Bold choice, but Tristan would have to spike his hair or get a Wig.)

Tristan scanned the list, his eyebrow raising slightly. "Alright, I have several questions."

Barbara tapped her pen against her notebook,"Go on."

Tristan gestured toward the screen like it was evidence in a courtroom. "One—why do you already have a ranking system? Two—why do you have notes on which ones require wigs? And three—" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. "Is this your way of telling me you're into cosplay sex?"

Barbara choked on air, nearly dropping her laptop.

"Tristan!"

Tristan grinned, leaning back against the couch, arms lazily crossed behind his head. "I mean, I'm just saying. You're very... passionate about this."

Barbara, half-laughing, half-scandalized, smacked his arm. "First of all, I just like being prepared. Second, if I was into that, you'd know by now."

Tristan arched an eyebrow, amused. "Would I?"

Barbara narrowed her eyes, but the slight pink dusting her cheeks betrayed her.

"Yes."

Tristan let the silence hang for a moment, before leaning in, his lips barely grazing the shell of her ear.

"You sure about that?"

Barbara shivered, her fingers twitching slightly against his chest.

Her body betrayed her before her words did.

Tristan's smirk deepened, his hand sliding slowly up her thigh, his touch featherlight but deliberate.

Barbara exhaled, but then—

"Behave, Tristan Hale."

She placed her hands on his chest, pushing him back just slightly. Not rejecting him completely, but enough to keep him on edge.

Tristan let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "One of these days, I'm going to test that theory."

Barbara's eyes flickered with amusement.

"I can already see that; Christ save me."

Tristan exhaled, finally glancing back at the screen. "Alright, what's your top pick?"

Barbara didn't hesitate. "Howl and Sophie."

Tristan tilted his head, scanning the image of Howl's coat—a black-and-gold-lined masterpiece, "Not a bad choice."

Barbara grinned, tapping the screen. "It's stylish, recognizable, and you'd look ridiculously good in it. Plus, I already have my dress for Sophie."

Tristan's eyes flickered back to her, unimpressed. "Oh, so you planned this from the start?"

Barbara shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Maybe."

Tristan leaned forward, resting his hands on her thighs, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth.

"And what do I get in return for going along with your master plan?"

Barbara tilted her head, pretending to consider. "The satisfaction of making me happy?"

Tristan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

Barbara's arms looped around his neck, smiling,"What? That's not enough?"

Tristan let his fingers trace slow, teasing circles against her thigh, his voice low and lazy. "Still thinking about the cosplay thing."

Barbara rolled her eyes, but instead of responding, she kissed him instead.

It started slow, like she was teasing him back, but it deepened quickly, pulling him in, making it impossible to think about anything else.

Tristan's grip tightened, his fingers pressing into her waist, and for a brief moment, he was ready to abandon the whole costume conversation entirely.

Barbara must've sensed it, because she pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips—

"Halloween first, your fantasy later."

Tristan let out a low, amused laugh, shaking his head.

A Day later...

The soft patter of rain against the windows had been the first thing Tristan heard that morning. It had been raining on and off all night, and by the time they were getting ready to leave, the drizzle had settled into a slow, rhythmic fall, light enough to hear, heavy enough to cling to the air.

Tristan adjusted his watch, pulling on a dark wool coat over his sweater as he stepped toward the door. "You ready?"

Barbara emerged from the hallway, wrapping a scarf around her neck, her hair falling in loose waves over her coat. "Yeah. Just let me grab my bag."

She disappeared into the living room, returning a moment later with her purse slung over her shoulder, her fingers slipping into the pockets of her coat.

Tristan reached for the umbrella by the door, glancing at the grey sky outside. "Figures it'd rain today."

Barbara smiled slightly, stepping up beside him. "It's England. It'd be more surprising if it didn't."

John was already waiting outside, standing by the car with the door open. The street was still damp from the earlier downpour, the pavement shining under the dull morning light.

Barbara hesitated for a second, glancing down at her heeled boots, then looked at Tristan. "Hold this."

Before he could ask why, she handed him her bag and stepped over the threshold, already making her way toward the car.

Tristan rolled his eyes but followed, quickly flipping the umbrella open and stepping out onto the slick pavement. The rain wasn't heavy, but the cool droplets still hit his skin as he walked toward the car.

Barbara had already ducked inside, adjusting the folds of her coat as Tristan slid in beside her, shaking a few stray droplets from his sleeve before shutting the door.

John glanced at them through the rearview mirror. "All set?"

Tristan leaned back against the seat, exhaling softly. "Yeah. Let's go."

As the car pulled away from the house, the soft hum of the rain followed them, drumming gently against the glass as they drove toward Leicester Children's Hospital.

Barbara glanced out the window, her breath fogging the glass slightly as she traced an idle pattern against it with her fingertip.

"Everything's already been delivered to the hospital, right? The costumes and the foods." Barbara asked since she wasn't involved in this part.

Tristan nodded looking at her eyes; god, he can get lost in them in just a few seconds. "Yeah, Felix cooked it, and Sophia sent over the costumes."

The rain continued to fall soft and steady, as they drove toward the hospital.

The rain had stopped just before they arrived, leaving the pavement slick and glistening under the soft afternoon light.

John pulled up outside Leicester Children's Hospital, putting the car in park.

Barbara turned to Tristan once more, tilting her head slightly. "Ready?"

Tristan rolled his shoulders back, pushing the lingering weight off. "Yeah. Let's do this."

A hospital representative was already waiting for them at the entrance, an umbrella tucked under her arm, her smile warm despite the damp weather.

"Mr. Hale, Ms. Palvin, welcome. We're honored to have you both here today."

Tristan nodded, his expression softening slightly as he extended a hand for a quick shake. "Thank you for having us. We're looking forward to it."

Barbara adjusted the strap of her purse, flashing a polite smile as she stepped in beside him.

The pediatric ward was nothing like the sterile, clinical space most people imagined. Instead, it was bright, colorful, with murals of cartoon characters, superheroes, and football players decorating the walls. Drawings from the children were taped near the nurses' station, crayon-colored footballs, jerseys, and clumsy attempts at stadiums filling the space with warmth.

Barbara glanced at them fondly, her smile lingering as they made their way toward the playroom.

The second they stepped inside, all eyes turned toward them.

There were about twenty kids, some hooked up to IV drips, others in wheelchairs, a few clutching Leicester City jerseys with Tristan's name on the back.

Then—

"TRISTAN!"

A boy—no older than eight—bolted toward him, hospital gown flapping as he ran, his arms stretched out like he was about to tackle him.

Tristan barely had time to react before the kid crashed into his legs, gripping onto him like a koala.

"I TOLD YOU HE WAS COMING!"

Barbara let out a soft laugh, watching as the other kids slowly inched forward—some shy, some bouncing with excitement.

Tristan crouched down, grinning as he ruffled the boy's hair. "Of course I came. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

A nurse standing nearby smiled, gesturing toward the kid. "That's Jack. He's been talking about this all week."

Tristan's chest tightened slightly.

Jack.

Hooked up to an oxygen machine, yet grinning like he'd just won the Premier League.

Barbara, watching quietly, caught the flicker of emotion in Tristan's eyes, but he quickly shook it off, shifting back into his easygoing self.

"Alright, who's first?"

For the next hour, the world outside didn't exist.

Laughter filled the brightly painted playroom, bouncing off the walls like the energy buzzing through the kids. Some were too shy to approach at first, peeking from behind their hospital beds or clinging to their IV stands, but once one brave kid made the first move, the rest followed quickly.

Tristan crouched down to their level, making sure each child felt like they had his full attention. He signed jerseys, notebooks, and even a cast on a boy's arm, making sure every signature was bold and clear.

Barbara, standing a few feet away, watched quietly, her arms lightly folded across her chest, but there was something softer in her expression. Her lips parted slightly, her blue eyes following Tristan as he moved effortlessly between the kids, making each one feel like they were the only person in the room.

A group of nurses stood by the doorway, smiling among themselves, some holding their phones to capture the moment. One of them, shifting to get a better angle, accidentally caught a shot of Barbara staring at Tristan, completely unaware of the camera on her.

She was lost in the moment, watching as Tristan ruffled a boy's hair, his grin lighting up the child's face.

The warmth in her chest grew, the familiar tug at her heart telling her exactly what she already knew.

And every day, somehow, he just made her fall harder.

"Messi's my favorite!"

The words came from a boy gripping his Leicester kit tightly, his eyes shining with excitement as he boldly announced it to Tristan himself.

Tristan's reaction was immediate—his hand flew to his chest dramatically, his expression pure betrayal.

"Not even top two? Harsh, man."

The boy giggled, his laughter contagious. "Okay, okay! You're top three!"

Barbara, still watching from the side, leaned in closer, her voice low and teasing.

"Tough crowd."

Tristan turned slightly, smirking as he shook his head.

"Tell me about it."

One of the nurses, still holding her phone, caught the interaction and stifled a laugh as she took another picture.

"You're really good with kids," she remarked, tucking her phone back into her pocket.

Barbara's smile deepened, her gaze flickering back to Tristan as he playfully high-fived another child.

"I know," she murmured.

The nurse beside her chuckled, shaking her head. "Yeah, I wasn't talking about Tristan."

Barbara's eyes widened slightly, but the nurse had already moved on, leaving her blinking for a second before biting back a grin.

Maybe she was a little too obvious.

Tristan was in the middle of signing a jersey when another child tugged on his sleeve.

"Will you play football again soon?" the little girl asked, her voice hopeful.

Tristan nodded immediately, finishing his signature before looking her in the eye. "Of course. You planning to watch our next match?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically, holding up a match ticket with pride.

Barbara caught the small flicker of emotion in Tristan's expression before he quickly masked it with another grin.

"Guess I better score, then," he added with a wink.

She felt it again—that gentle tug on her heart, the way he just made people feel like they mattered.

And the best part?

It wasn't for the cameras.

There were no staged moments, no scripted lines. Just Tristan being Tristan—and Barbara couldn't take her eyes off him.

As Tristan continued signing jerseys and joking with the kids, Barbara found herself surrounded by a small group of girls, their curious eyes fixed on her.

One of them, a blonde girl with bright eyes, leaned forward, clutching a magazine page she had carefully torn out.

"You're a model, right?" she asked, her voice both shy and excited.

Barbara nodded, shifting to sit on the edge of a hospital bed so she could be at their level. "I am."

Another girl, her IV stand beside her, perked up. "I wanna be a model one day." She hesitated, then added in a quieter voice, "But my mom says it's really hard."

Barbara smiled softly, resting her hands on her knees as she looked at them.

"She's right—it is hard. But hard doesn't mean impossible."

The girls listened intently, their eyes wide with curiosity, their hands fidgeting with their hospital blankets or ID wristbands.

One of them tilted her head. "Did you always know you wanted to be a model?"

Barbara thought for a moment before shaking her head. "Not always. But once I realized I loved it, I worked really hard to get here. And you can do the same."

A quiet voice spoke up from her right.

"Even if I'm sick?"

Barbara's heart clenched, but she didn't let it show.

She turned toward the girl—a tiny thing, probably no older than seven, her dark hair neatly tied in braids. There was an uncertainty in her eyes, a quiet fear that maybe the world had already decided what she could and couldn't be.

Barbara reached out, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You can be anything you want to be. No matter what."

The girl's lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to believe her but wasn't sure if she could.

Barbara leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "You know what makes a great model? Confidence. If you believe in yourself, other people will too."

The girl nodded slowly, her small fingers tightening around the edge of her blanket.

Barbara smiled, tapping the tip of the girl's nose. "And you? You're already halfway there."

The girl beamed, her smile bright as the sun.

Tristan was mid-signature when a nurse approached him, tucking a clipboard under her arm.

"There's one more patient who'd love to meet you, but he can't come to the playroom. Would you mind visiting his room?"

Tristan didn't hesitate.

"Of course."

Barbara stayed behind, still talking with the girls, as Tristan followed the nurse down the hallway, the laughter from before fading into the quiet hum of beeping monitors and whispered voices.

Inside the room, a ten-year-old boy sat propped up on a hospital bed, an IV line attached to his arm.

He looked tired. But when he saw Tristan step inside, his eyes lit up instantly.

"You really came."

Tristan pulled up a chair, sitting beside him. "Of course I did."

The boy hesitated, then lowered his gaze.

"I wanted to play football. Before I got sick."

Tristan felt his throat tighten.

This kid had dreamed of the same thing he had.

But life hadn't given him the chance.

Tristan took a moment, inhaling slowly before speaking. "You still love the game?"

The boy nodded.

Tristan reached for the Leicester jersey draped over the chair, grabbed a pen, and met the boy's gaze.

He thought for a second before writing something different.

Something more personal.

" Keep fighting. Keep believing."

- Tristan Hale

The boy stared at it, his fingers tracing over the signature like it was something precious.

His eyes flicked back up, glassy but bright.

"Thank you."

Tristan felt something unspoken pass between them, something that didn't need words.

This visit had meant something.

To both of them.

And somehow, as he left the room, Tristan felt lighter.

Before leaving, Tristan met with the hospital director, handing over a check for £100,000. The weight of the paper felt insignificant in his hand, not because it wasn't a lot of money, but because he knew it wasn't enough.

Barbara stood beside him, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, watching the exchange with quiet admiration. There was no camera, no press, just Tristan giving without expecting anything in return.

The director's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard. "Mr. Hale, this is... incredibly generous."

Tristan shook his head. "It's a start."

Because that's all it was.

Back home, Tristan was in the couch, phone pressed to his ear waiting for Mendes to pick up.

Mendes picked up on the second ring.

"What's up?"

Tristan exhaled, his free hand gripping the railing, knuckles tight.

"I want to start my own foundation. I've made up my mind about the charity stuff I told you about."

A beat of silence.

Then Mendes' voice came through, lower, more serious this time.

"You're serious?"

"Yeah."

Another pause.

Then—"Alright. Talk to me."

Tristan ran a hand through his hair, organizing his thoughts.

"I don't want it to be just one thing. I want to help where I can—medical, education, homelessness, food banks. I don't want it to be just football-related."

Mendes let out a slow sigh, but not out of doubt. It was more like he was already piecing things together in his head.

"Okay. Here's what we do. First, we structure it properly—get legal, get the paperwork done. Second, we build a team—people who know what they're doing. Third, we fundraise. Your money will start it, but we'll get sponsors, grants, events. This won't be a one-man show, Tristan."

Tristan nodded to himself, already knowing Mendes was right. "Good. Let's get it moving."

Mendes let out a small chuckle. "You don't waste time, huh?"

"No point in waiting. I want 5% of my annual income going into it every year. Not like I need the money. And I wanna see where it goes. I want to check and sign off on everything—I don't want to see any corruption. Okay?"

Mendes hummed in agreement. "Smart. We'll keep it airtight."

Barbara had been standing in the doorway, watching him for the past couple of minutes. She didn't interrupt, didn't ask questions—she just listened.

Without a word, she walked up behind him, her arms wrapping around his waist, her cheek resting against his back.

Tristan let out a slow breath, his free hand instinctively resting over hers, his fingers lightly tracing the back of her palm.

He didn't need to look at her to know what she was thinking.

Pride. Admiration.

And something deeper than that.

Mendes' voice cut through the moment.

"One last thing—what are we calling this?"

Tristan stared out over the city, the weight of the day settling in his chest.

For a second, he considered adding something personal, something secret, something that meant more to him than anyone would ever know.

Codex.

But no one would get it. No one would understand.

And saying it out loud? Yeah, it sounded cringe.

So instead, he went with something simple. Something that spoke for itself.

"Champion's Foundation."

Mendes let out a low whistle. "Yeah. That'll work. By the way, like you asked we reschedule the Norton show so don't worry about that anymore."

"Appreciate it," Tristan replied before ending the call as his focus shifted to the angel back behind him.

Barbara smiled against his back, her hold tightening just a little.

Tristan exhaled slowly, his fingers still laced with hers.

[ Honestly I forget about the Norton Show when writing this Chapter, this was just me saving my ass. I write about it later down the line. ]

....

On the day of Halloween the house smelled like garlic, roasted meat, and freshly baked bread, the warm, savory scent filling the air as Felix moved around the kitchen with practiced ease. A pot of something thick and creamy simmered on the stove, while a tray of perfectly golden pastries cooled by the counter.

Barbara leaned against the kitchen island, watching Felix work, stealing a piece of bread when he wasn't looking.

"I saw that," Felix muttered without turning, stirring the sauce with one hand while flipping something in a pan with the other.

Barbara grinned, taking another bite. "It's quality control."

Tristan walked in from the living room, rolling his shoulders. "Everything set up outside?"

Barbara nodded, popping the last piece of bread into her mouth. "Yep. Lights are up, drinks are stocked—non-alcoholic, of course. Now we just need to get ready."

Felix snorted. "Yeah, make sure your model boyfriend doesn't take forever fixing his hair."

Tristan rolled his eyes but didn't argue.

"Come on," Barbara teased, already grabbing his hand and tugging him toward their room. "Time to make us the best-dressed couple in the house."

Tristan stood in front of the full-length mirror, arms crossed, watching as Barbara carefully adjusted the golden trim on his Howl costume jacket.

She had been painstakingly meticulous about making sure everything looked perfect.

Tristan, meanwhile, had spent the last five minutes trying to pull her attention away from the fabric.

"You know, for someone who threw me into this costume idea, you're really into the details."

Barbara tilted her head, adjusting his collar with delicate fingers. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right."

Tristan smirked. "You just want to make sure I look good."

Barbara stepped back, her eyes raking over him slowly, and he caught the way her lips parted slightly before she quickly masked it with a playful scoff.

"You already know you look good. No need to fish for compliments."

Tristan grinned, reaching for her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Maybe. But I like hearing them from you."

Barbara let out a soft laugh, her hands sliding up his chest, feeling the smooth fabric beneath her fingers.

"Fine. You look stupidly good."

Tristan leaned in, his nose brushing against hers. "That wasn't hard, was it?"

Barbara rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, Tristan tilted her chin up and kissed her, slow and teasing, as if daring her to stay focused on anything else.

Barbara sighed against his lips, melting into him for a moment, her fingers curling slightly into the lapels of his coat.

Then—

"We still have to finish getting ready," she murmured, though she made zero effort to step away.

Tristan hummed, his lips trailing to the corner of her mouth, then to the sensitive spot just below her jaw.

"We have time."

Barbara's breath hitched, her fingers twitching against his chest before she finally placed a hand on his jaw, gently pushing him back just enough to regain control.

"Tristan."

His eyes flickered with amusement, but he stepped back just enough, his hands still resting on her waist.

"Fine. But I expect a proper reward for going along with your anime obsession."

Barbara just smiled, adjusting the ruffled sleeves of her own dress.

"We'll see."

Tristan chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm holding you to that."

Barbara turned toward the vanity mirror, adjusting her hairpiece, while Tristan buttoned up the last part of his jacket.

Just as they were about to step out, Barbara paused, frowning slightly.

"Something's missing."

Tristan groaned. "What now?"

Barbara turned toward him, a playful glint in her eyes. "Earrings."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "You want me to wear earrings?"

Barbara held up a pair of fake hoops, grinning. "Howl wears them. It completes the look."

Tristan sighed, shaking his head. "You're enjoying this way too much."

Barbara giggled, stepping up to him, gently clipping them on.

"Perfect," she whispered, admiring her work.

Tristan caught the way she was looking at him, the admiration mixed with something softer, something that made his chest feel a little too warm.

So, naturally—he joked. "You're staring."

Barbara huffed a laugh, but her eyes didn't leave his.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

She leaned up, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw, before whispering—

"Come on, let's go."

Tristan smiled, lacing his fingers with hers as they finally stepped out of the room.

The house buzzed with energy, the sound of Felix moving around in the kitchen blending with the soft hum of music playing through the speakers. The Halloween decorations Barbara had painstakingly put up added a warm, festive glow—dim lighting, orange and purple hues, and fake cobwebs in the corners.

Tristan stood near the living room, drink in hand (non-alcoholic, obviously), while Barbara made a final check of everything, adjusting a few things before guests started arriving.

"Alright," she said, turning toward Tristan. "Moment of truth. You think your teammates are actually going to show up in proper costumes?"

Tristan smirked, sipping his drink. "Vardy? Probably something stupid. Mahrez? Maybe. Schmeichel? Doubt it. Drinkwater? Definitely not."

Barbara grinned. "We'll see."

The first knock came exactly one hour later.

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Vardy, I'm betting something completely unhinged."

Tristan pulled open the door—

And there stood Jamie Vardy, dressed in a full-blown inflatable T-Rex costume, complete with tiny, useless clawed arms sticking out from the front. The suit wobbled as he moved, making him look even more ridiculous than usual.

"Vardy, Tristan, tell me this isn't the best thing you've ever seen."

Tristan rubbed his temple, already regretting everything. "Vardy. What the hell."

Standing next to him, Rebekah Vardy rolled her eyes but smiled, her sleek Catwoman bodysuit making her look far more put together than whatever Jamie had going on.

"I tried to stop him," she said, stepping inside with a small shake of her head before offering Barbara a warm smile. "Barbara, it's good to see you."

Barbara smiled, shaking her hand. "Same. And honestly? I respect your patience."

Rebekah chuckled. "It's a full-time job."

Jamie, still stuck in the doorway, turned toward Tristan.

"Mate, I need help getting through. The tail's stuck."

Tristan sighed, but Barbara was already laughing, stepping forward.

"Come on, Dino, let's get you inside."

Within the next fifteen minutes, the rest of the team began trickling in, each entrance more ridiculous than the last.

Kasper Schmeichel & his wife, Stine Gyldenbrand arrived next. Kasper, being the most low-effort person alive, had simply thrown on a Dracula cape over a black turtleneck, while Stine had fully committed, dressed in a gothic vampire gown with striking red contacts.

"You really phoned it in, didn't you?" Tristan remarked as he let them in.

Kasper nodded, gesturing toward his wife. "She told me to match her, so here I am."

Barbara grinned, shaking Stine's hand. "At least someone took it seriously."

Riyad Mahrez & his girlfriend, Rita Johal, arrived soon after. Mahrez had actually put effort into it, showing up as Phantom of the Opera, while Rita stunned in an elaborate masquerade dress.

"So, Riyad, you do Halloween properly, but Kasper shows up looking like a dad forced into a school play?" Tristan quipped.

Mahrez laughed. "I have standards, bro."

Danny Drinkwater showed up in a tracksuit with a fake cast on his arm.

Tristan stared at him, unimpressed. "Danny. What the fuck is this?"

Danny grinned, gesturing toward himself. "Injured footballer. Very authentic."

Barbara, holding in a laugh, shook her head. "Effort level: zero."

"Oi, I'm committing to the bit!" Danny shot back, raising his leg dramatically. "I even limp when I walk."

Tristan just sighed letting him in.

Leonardo Ulloa & his wife, Victoria, followed close behind. Leo had gone full classic Dracula, while Victoria was a glamorous witch, her long velvet cloak flowing behind her.

Andrej Kramarić, newly signed to Leicester, arrived solo, dressed as Sherlock Holmes, complete with a pipe and deerstalker hat.

Matty James & his girlfriend, Katie, arrived dressed as a pirate and a mermaid, with Matty clearly having lost a bet based on the amount of glitter on his outfit.

Marc Albrighton & his fiancée, Chloe Fulford, arrived in matching skeleton costumes, simple but well put together.

Lingard arrived dressed as Superman with no efforts put into it leaving Tristan to just ignore him.

As more players and their wives/girlfriends settled in, Barbara quickly found herself at the center of attention.

[ Didn't feel like writing everyone arriving and shit like Vardy, it would take way too long for that. ]

Barbara, already deep in conversation with Stine, Rita, and Rebekah, found herself easily fitting into the group.

"So, how are you handling all this?" Rebekah asked as she gestured toward the chaos unfolding in the living room.

Barbara glanced over, watching Vardy struggled to drink from his cup while still in the inflatable T-Rex suit, while Tristan stood beside Mahrez and Kasper, shaking his head outside in the backyard.

She smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Honestly? It's actually fun."

Stine chuckled. "Good. Because once you're in, there's no getting out."

Barbara's eyes flickered back toward Tristan smiling as he played around with Lingard.

Yeah. She was okay with that.

The party carried on, the atmosphere filled with laughter, playful banter, and the occasional groan from someone losing a game of FIFA in the living room.

Tristan had found himself in the backyard, drink in hand, leaning against the railing as he watched the scene unfold inside. From here, he could see Barbara in the kitchen, still chatting with Stine, Rebekah, and Rita, looking perfectly at ease among them.

She laughed at something Rita said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her dress flowing around her as she moved.

Barbara must've felt his gaze, because she turned toward the back door, catching sight of him standing alone. Her smile softened, and without excusing herself from the conversation, she made her way outside.

Barbara stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she spotted Tristan leaning against the railing, looking out over the backyard. The distant hum of laughter and music filled the air, but out here, everything felt a little quieter.

"Hiding?" she teased, stepping up beside him, resting her elbows on the railing.

Tristan let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. "Not hiding. Just... watching."

Barbara followed his gaze, catching sight of Jamie Vardy struggling to sit down in his inflatable T-Rex suit, arms flailing as Mahrez and Drinkwater doubled over laughing.

She shook her head, amused. "Your teammates are something else."

"You're telling me," Tristan muttered, lifting his glass to his lips before taking a sip.

Barbara turned her head slightly, studying his face, noticing the way his usual sharp focus had been replaced with something softer.

"You've been quieter tonight," she murmured. "Something on your mind?"

Tristan hesitated, his fingers lightly tapping against his glass before he shook his head. "Not really. Just... it's been a good night."

Barbara tilted her head, eyes still searching his. "Yeah. It has."

Stepping closer, she slipped her arms around his waist, resting her forehead lightly against his chest.

Tristan set his drink down, wrapping his arms around her in return, holding her close.

The voices from inside faded into background noise, leaving only the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the rhythmic beat of the music inside the house.

Barbara traced small circles against the back of his coat, her head resting lightly against him.

"I liked meeting everyone tonight," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tristan pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment. "They liked you too."

Barbara glanced up at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Even Vardy?"

Tristan let out a quiet laugh. "He likes anyone who doesn't immediately punch him in the face."

Barbara laughed, but the warmth in her expression didn't fade. As she studied him, something gentler settled between them.

"You know, I never really cared about stuff like this before," she admitted. "The whole... being part of a team thing. But tonight? It felt easy. Like I belonged here."

Tristan's grip around her tightened slightly, as if grounding her in place.

"You do."

Barbara's lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat as Tristan's fingers traced along her jawline, his touch light and deliberate.

"Tristan..."

He didn't wait.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, slow at first, like he was savoring the moment.

Barbara melted into him, her fingers gripping onto the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer.

The distant hum of voices, the music, the world outside—everything blurred into the background.

It was just them.

Tristan's hand slipped up to the back of her neck, his thumb lightly grazing her skin as he tilted her head, deepening the kiss.

Barbara smiled against his lips, pulling away just enough to whisper—"Finally."

Tristan let out a quiet laugh, resting his forehead against hers. "Took me long enough?"

Barbara's eyes remained closed, her lips still tingling. "Something like that."

Just then, a voice from inside shattered the moment—

"Tristan! Stop making out and get back in here. Felix has desserts!"

Barbara let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Vardy?"

Tristan exhaled. "Vardy."

Barbara took his hand, lacing their fingers together as she tugged him toward the door.

"Come on, let's go before he decides to come out here and drag you inside himself."

Tristan sighed dramatically but let her pull him back toward the house.

An hour later, the party had started winding down, guests gathering their things, sharing goodbyes, and promising to meet up again soon.

Stine pulled Barbara into a warm hug, her voice filled with sincerity. "I hope we see more of you at the games."

Barbara nodded, smiling genuinely. "You definitely will."

Mahrez clapped Tristan on the back, his grin unmistakable. "Alright, mate. See you Monday. Try not to get too soft with all this romance, yeah?"

Tristan scoffed, shaking his head. "Piss off, Mahrez."

Rebekah gave Barbara a knowing glance, her lips curving into something between amusement and approval. "Told you they'd love you."

Barbara squeezed Tristan's hand slightly, looking up at him before replying, "Yeah. You did."

Soon, the last of the guests had filed out, leaving just the two of them standing in the quiet house, surrounded by the remnants of the night—empty glasses, scattered decorations, and the lingering warmth of laughter and good company.

Barbara stretched, glancing at the clock. "Not bad. We survived the night."

Tristan wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting against her shoulder. "Barely."

Barbara laughed, tilting her head up as Tristan pressed a kiss against her shoulder, his grip tightening just slightly.

The night had been a success.

As the lights dimmed and the house settled into silence, Tristan pulled Barbara closer, her warmth pressed against his chest.

Neither of them spoke.

They didn't need to.

..

Thank you @noname_marco and Mark for helping me with this Chapter.

And I didn't think we would hit 2100 power stones but here we are. Thank you, also no Chapters tomorrow.