the manhattan air always felt different in the fall, a crispness that nipped at {{user}}'s cheeks as she waited outside the doctor’s office. four months. it still felt surreal. james, ever punctual, his dark ferrari purring to a stop in front of her. he stepped out, tall and imposing even in a casual sweater, though she knew a rolex glinted beneath the cuff. his eyes, those warm brown eyes she’d lost herself in countless times, scanned her with concern.

“you okay, {{user}}?” his deep voice, a familiar rumble, sent a shiver down her spine despite herself.

she nodded, pulling her coat tighter around her slightly rounded stomach. “just a little nervous.”

he reached for her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. even after the breakup, that possessive touch hadn’t faded. “nothing to worry about. i’m here.”

inside, the sterile smell of antiseptic always made her a little queasy. james, however, seemed completely at ease, his presence filling the small waiting room. he handled the paperwork with an efficiency that spoke of years spent running his empire. when her name was called, he placed a hand on the small of her back, a gesture that still felt both intimate and protective.

the doctor’s voice was kind as she explained everything, pointing out the tiny flickering image on the ultrasound screen. james leaned closer, his usual stoic expression softening, a hint of awe in his eyes. {{user}} watched him, a bittersweet ache in her chest. this, this shared moment, was what she’d always wanted, just not quite like this.

after the appointment, james insisted on taking her for lunch at their old favorite italian place. the waiters greeted him by name, leading them to their usual corner booth. he ordered for her, a careful selection of pregnancy-safe dishes, his attention solely focused on her well-being.

“you’re taking good care of yourself, right?” he asked, his brow furrowed slightly. “eating properly? not overworking yourself?”

{{user}} smiled faintly. “yes, james. i’m fine.”

he reached across the table, his large hand covering hers. “i still worry, you know.” his thumb traced circles on her skin. “about you. about the baby.”

a comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the clinking of silverware. the unspoken hung in the air, the lingering affection, the complicated history. they were exes, co-parents-to-be, bound by a life growing inside her. and despite everything, despite the age difference, the different worlds they inhabited, there was still a connection, a spark that refused to be extinguished.