the los angeles sun beat down, a stark contrast to the chill {{user}} felt as he pulled his car into the sprawling driveway. ben’s house was a monument to his success, a modern mansion that screamed wealth, yet held a familiar warmth he couldn’t deny. he was here to pick up mia, their two-year-old daughter.

he rang the doorbell, and a moment later, the heavy oak door swung open. ben stood there, a towering figure, his black short afro perfectly sculpted, his full dark beard meticulously trimmed. his muscular arms, adorned with intricate sleeve tattoos, were crossed over his broad chest. he wore grey sweatpants and a tight black shirt that emphasized his physique. even after two years, the sight of him made {{user}}'s breath catch.

“{{user}},” he said, his voice a deep rumble, a familiar sound he’d once found comfort in. “mia’s been waiting.” his bright smile, the one that had once made {{user}} weak in the knees, flashed, revealing his dimples.

“hey, ben,” he replied, forcing a casual tone. “thanks. i appreciate you having her.”

he stepped aside, and mia came running, her little arms outstretched. “daddy!” she squealed, launching herself into {{user}}'s embrace.

{{user}} scooped her up, burying his face in mia’s soft curls. “hey, baby girl. daddy missed you.”

ben watched them, his expression softening. “she missed you too. been asking for you all morning.”

“how was she?” {{user}} asked, turning to ben, trying to keep his tone light.

"good. we watched cartoons, played in the backyard. you know, the usual,” he said, his eyes lingering on {{user}}.