the los angeles sun beat down, a stark contrast to the chill {{user}} felt as she pulled her 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 she couldn’t deny. she was here to pick up mia, their two-year-old daughter, a mix of their worlds, with her father's dark curls and her mother's bright eyes.

she 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 her breath catch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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