Brunch Café Scene
The morning came far too soon.
London’s sky hung low and pale, the city humming quietly outside the window of the Notting Hill café where we’d agreed to meet one last time.
Isabella arrived first — still radiant, even in jeans and a white blouse. “I ordered a mimosa,” she said, smiling. “Figured it’s brunch law.”
Natasha swept in moments later, elegant as always, gold colored silk blouse, pleated skirt under beige trench coat. “If there’s orange juice in it, it counts as hydration,” she quipped, taking a seat. I’m just going to have coffee.
I arrived last, still fighting my hair into something resembling order. “You lot look like an advert for effortless beauty,” I said, flopping into the booth.
“Effortless,” Natasha said, smirking, “is always carefully planned.”
The Laughing Moment
We laughed, clinking glasses.
For a moment, it felt like the city itself had paused to listen.
Conversation flowed easily — future plans, travel ideas, a bit of teasing about our photoshoots.
Natasha shared a few of her pics from the night before. “This one’s my favorite,” she said, turning her phone toward us — the three of us walking through Soho, laughing under the umbrella.
Natasha smiled softly. “You realise that’s our first picture where we’re not performing for someone?”
I nodded. “Just us being us.”
A Selfie Goodbye
When it came time to say goodbye, none of us wanted to move first.
Isabella’s flight to Ibiza was in four hours. Natasha had a meeting in Mayfair. I had another project waiting — and yet, I didn’t want to let go of this version of us.
As we stepped outside, the clouds parted just enough for a streak of sunlight to touch the street.
Natasha turned back to us and said, “Same time next city?”
I grinned. “You know it.”
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