Dear Diary,
Today felt like something out of a feel-good film. One of those days when everything just feels right — when you wake up with that little flutter in your heart because something lovely is about to happen.
Annamaria had invited Mamma and me for lunch at Fire & Ice. The moment I saw her message, I lit up. There’s something about her — her warmth, her light — that just makes you feel held. It didn’t feel like a restaurant invitation. It felt like love. I pulled out my favourite white dress, the one that makes me feel soft and happy. Mamma looked elegant as always, full of grace. We both took our time getting ready, already smiling at what the afternoon would bring.
Walking into Fire & Ice felt like coming home. The smell of garlic and butter, the sound of clinking glasses and easy laughter, the way the staff welcomed us like old friends — it wrapped around me in the gentlest way. Everyone was so kind. The chefs smiled from behind the counter, the waiters checked on us with such care. It felt like the whole place was breathing kindness.
We ordered all our favourites. The handmade sage and butter pasta, which was warm, rich, and full of comfort. The mint and lemon cooler — bright, fresh, the kind of drink that feels like sunshine. The Fungi pizza, soft and earthy. And the tiramisu… oh, Diary, that tiramisu. Light, creamy, layered with love.
And then came Suraj.
He’s always warm and steady, but today his smile held something softer. We soon found out he had just lost his grandmother the night before. He hadn’t eaten all day, yet there he was — checking on us, sitting with us for a moment, making sure we felt cared for. That kind of grace is rare. It moved me so deeply. Sometimes love is quiet, and today, Suraj showed me what that looks like.
Then, my phone lit up. It was a video call from Annamaria.
The moment I saw her face, I smiled like a child. She looked radiant, full of life. She asked if we were enjoying the food, how we were doing, and whether everything felt good. Her energy was warm, joyful, loving — just like always.
And then, suddenly, in that excited, unmistakable Annamaria way, she exclaimed, “Make Antara sign the VIP book!” She said it with such joy, as if it was the most obvious and important thing in the world.
I was stunned. I’ve never felt so flattered. I know how many real VIPs must walk through those doors — actors, diplomats, celebrities. But that day, it was me. She saw me. She wanted me to be part of the Fire & Ice story. That moment… I’ll carry it forever. Not because of the book, but because of how she made me feel — cherished.
Annamaria and I share something beautiful. We can talk about anything — life, food, heartbreak, healing, just being present. She’s the kind of person who leaves you lighter. She’s not just beautiful — she’s soul-deep beautiful. The kind that lingers.
There’s a photograph of her tucked quietly into one corner of the restaurant. She doesn’t need to be everywhere, because her spirit is already in everything. You feel her in the way the napkins are folded, in the joy of the staff, in the love that rises like heat from the oven.
Before we left, I peeked into the kitchen. It was quiet, calm. The chefs worked like artists — stretching dough gently, layering toppings with care, placing pizzas into the oven like a quiet prayer. There was no rush. Just rhythm. Just heart.
Dear Diary, today wasn’t just about food. It was about being seen, being held, being loved — by a space, by its people, by the little rituals that turn a meal into memory.
To Annamaria — thank you for your light, your words, your love. You made me feel like someone who mattered.
To Suraj — thank you for your grace in grief. For showing up with quiet dignity and so much heart.
And to the Fire & Ice family — thank you. You didn’t just feed us. You filled our hearts.
I’ll treasure this day for a long, long time.
