Noa St. James grew up in the vibrant heart of London, where her love for storytelling was sparked by the voices and untold stories she heard daily. Raised by a single mother who worked as a journalist herself, Noa was always surrounded by the hum of...
The sun had barely set by the time Noa, Michael, and Evelyn were huddled in the small kitchen of their shared apartment. The team had decided to dedicate their Friday to editing the footage they'd gathered over the week, but of course, with Michael's insistence on "taking care of the girls," he was in charge of cooking dinner tonight.
Noa sat at the table, laptop open in front of her, scrolling through the clips from the past few days. Evelyn was by her side, headphones on, her face scrunched up in focus as she edited another segment. The air was thick with the smell of spices, and while the sizzle of food was comforting, it was starting to get a bit smoky.
"Michael, you alright over there?" Noa called out, glancing over at the stove where Michael was stirring something in a pan, a light haze of smoke curling around him.
Evelyn lifted one side of her headphones, giving Noa a side glance. "I feel like we're about to be engulfed in a cloud."
Michael waved them off. "Relax, ladies. It's all part of the process. Good food needs a little bit of drama." He grinned, flipping the contents of the pan with far more confidence than necessary.
Evelyn chuckled and whispered to Noa, "A little drama? Looks like he's trying to summon a fire brigade."
Noa couldn't help but laugh, snapping a quick picture of Michael's smoky kitchen disaster and posting it to her Instagram story.
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