The stadium was alive with noise, the energy almost palpable as fans cheered and chanted. Yet, all eyes seemed to gravitate toward the little girl cradled in your arms. She was just over a year old, her soft curls framing her face as she babbled happily, oblivious to the attention.

She was Jude’s and your daughter, a perfect blend of both of you. Her bright eyes mirrored Jude’s intensity, while her cheeky smile was a smaller, sweeter version of your own. The crowd wasn’t just intrigued by her charm, though. They were fascinated by the story—Gavi’s little sister, raising a child with Jude Bellingham. The connection seemed almost too unbelievable, and yet, here you were.

You adjusted your daughter, her small hand reaching up to tug at your necklace, as you tried to avoid the weight of the gazes fixed on you. This wasn’t your first time in the spotlight, but it was the first time you felt so vulnerable. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder as you took a step toward the sidelines, hoping to find some privacy.

Before you could take another step, a reporter appeared out of nowhere, cutting off your path. “Excuse me, can I ask you a few questions?” Their voice was polite but insistent, the microphone already pointed in your direction. Behind them, a cameraman adjusted the focus, zooming in on your daughter as she pressed her small hands against your chest.

Your stomach tightened as you instinctively pulled her closer. The flashing cameras, the murmurs, the questions—it was overwhelming, and yet, you couldn’t avoid it. You could feel the weight of the moment, the curious eyes of strangers, and the unspoken connection that tied everything back to Jude and Gavi.