Return To Love | Harry Styles

1 - Old Lesbians & Mick Jagger.

There's comfortable silence before Freya dances in with an angelic grin on her face. The second woman is also dressed in a similar floral jumpsuit with her platinum blonde hair in a nice nearly pixie cut cut and glasses on her face.

"You left me alone," Freya pouts, wrapping her arms around her wife.

"Someone's already drunk," Imogen laughs.

"Not yet. Your lad called, he's on his way," Freya smiles, looking at Zara.

"You're expecting guests? Should I be making extra food?" Zara nearly panics.

Imogen kisses Freya before smoothly pulling away from her and she clears her throat.

"Relax, it's just one person and he doesn't have the best eating habits," she explains.

"He eats like a rat," Freya explains.

"Right. I'll just get started on a quick Linguine dish," Zara awkwardly says.

"Can we take these to the dining room?" Freya asks, already picking up the pan of roasted vegetables.

"Yes, every other thing except the cake is ready," Zara smiles.

Freya playfully nudges Imogen to pick up the other dishes and she circles her way back to Zara.

"I hope you don't freak out on seeing rock stars?" she asks, calmly.

"Your guest is a rock star? Are we expecting Mick Jagger?" Zara almost screams.

"Darling, stop messing with her!" Imogen warns a Freya who's already laughing herself out of the kitchen.

Zara feels her palm building moisture and she exhales; the thought of Mick Jagger showing up is already messing with her brain and the logical part of her knows he's not showing up but yeah to hell with logic right now.

"Is she lying?" she manages to ask.

"Don't worry about our guest, okay? Finish up with your meal and join us to eat, you know you're also a guest, right?"

Imogen places a soothing hand on Zara's shoulder and fights a smile before picking up some dishes to head out.

With this, Zara exhales and decides to relieve herself by whipping up a simple herb bathed linguine dish to go with the other meals. She pours an extra glass of wine and throws herself into the softly blasting tune.

The music in the background doesn't do enough for her, so she opts for headphones and decides it is time for a jam session.

Quitting her job as a PR consultant and becoming a full time private chef wasn't the easiest thing to do but with supportive friends and family, it's slowly becoming a fulfilling choice.

Imogen and Freya always make sure to hire her to cook for anniversaries, parties, birthdays and whatever event they have circled on the calendar of their interesting proud lives.

Her very African parents make sure they recommend her to everyone in their communities, mosques, churches, community centres and sometimes the weirdest ceremonies she didn't even know existed. It's rewarding, hectic but there's nothing else she'd rather be doing with her time these days.

The pasta dish is coming together and she occasionally smiles with Imogen or Freya whisk themselves into the kitchen to get a utensil or something random.

Zara makes a quick mix of olive oil, black pepper and crushed red flakes in a small bowl. There's joy in her eyes as she happily hums, pouring the mix into the pasta and lightly stirring.

However, when she turns to place the bowl of pasta on the slab, she lets out a scream and nearly drops the bowl on the wooden floors.

"Holy shit!" Zara takes off her headphones after placing the bowl on the slab.