𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝑡. ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑

I | 𝐴𝑢 𝑅𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑟

⊱ ────── ๑♡๑ ────── ⊰

You waltzed into the little Parisian cafe just a couple of blocks from your apartment like you had done every single morning for the last two years.

"Bonjour (Y/N)," Clara greeted you as she did every morning just as the scent of fresh croissants and ground coffee beans hit your nostrils.

"Bonjour Clara, Gabriel," you replied, greeting both the short pudgy woman, and her young son. Gabriel gave you a shy smile, he had the sweetest crush on you.

You made your way to your usual table, right by the large window which took up an entire wall of the cafe, giving you perfect views of the streets of Paris. A little in the distance you could see the Eiffel tower.

"Here you go mademoiselle, a warm and fresh chocolate croissant served with a cappuccino," Gabriel said in his adorable French accent.

He and Clara had become great friends of yours and were a good support system since you didn't see your friends or family back in London very often.

"Merci, Gabriel," you said politely, as you cautiously took a sip of the warm liquid. He then went back behind the counter.

"Lovely drawings." Clara said to a girl sitting at the table beside yours, pointing at the sketches on her napkin.

"It's a silly dream of mine, is all," she said in an American accent.

"To draw?" Clara asked, taking a seat across from you, brining you into the conversation.

"To be a designer."

"No dream is silly. (Y/N) here always wanted to be a model correct?"

"Yeah." You said awkwardly.

"Now look at her." She pointed at a magazine on the table, it was the December issue of Vogue, on which you were on the cover. She always kept a magazine you were in at the cafe, so she could gloat about how one of her regulars was a famous supermodel. God you hated being referred to as that.

No matter how far you'd come in your modeling and even in your self-esteem and confidence, it was still hard for you to accept praise of any kind. Part of it was growing up with an overly critical mother, but the other part was due to your increased self-doubt after your split with Tom.

"I guess you have a point." The girl smiled appreciatively before going back to her napkin.

Gabriel, walked over to you and Clara, listening to your conversation, "I used to have a dream too. That I'd meet the most beautiful woman in the world," he said.

"And?" You asked.

"Here you are. So dreams do come true," he smiled cheekily. Even at age eleven, the French were flirtatious.

"You're such a flirt." You said, playfully blowing him a kiss.

Clara smiled at her son's relentless flirting but then her smile faded and you could see the sadness in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh nothing."

You playfully rolled your eyes, "c'mon, I know when something's bothering you, what is it?"

She sighs, "I've known this was coming for months now, but I can't believe it's actually here."

"I know." You said holding her hand.

"I can't believe you're leaving." Gabriel sighed.

You were going to miss Clara, and Gabriel, and Paris in general. When you first arrived you were a meek, broken girl with unrealistic hopes of becoming a working model. With hard work, tears, and perseverance you had made it, but deep down you were afraid that going back to London would take it all away; strip you of your newfound confidence.