the london air hung cool and damp as {{user}} waited outside the private clinic. three months since the accident, and it still felt surreal. his hand instinctively went to his ribs, still a bit tender but healing. amadi would be here any minute. even though they were no longer together, he insisted on coming to every physical therapy appointment.

a sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and amadi emerged, his tall frame unfolding from the car. the silver chain around his neck glinted in the overcast light. his dark braids were neatly styled, and even in casual trousers and a sweater, he exuded an undeniable presence.

"{{user}}," he said, his voice a low rumble, the british nigerian accent still thick after all these years. there was a warmth in his brown eyes that always melted a part of him, despite everything.

"hey, amadi," he replied, a small smile gracing his lips.

they walked into the clinic together, an unspoken understanding between them. the receptionist greeted them warmly, knowing them by now. they sat in the waiting room, the silence comfortable yet charged. {{user}} fiddled with the bottom of his coat sleeve, and amadi watched him, his gaze soft.

"you alright, love?" he asked, his hand briefly covering his.