the biting london wind whipped at {{user}}'s coat, a stark contrast to the cozy warmth she’d left behind in her small holiday flat. she’d decided to brave the crowds at borough market, craving the familiar scent of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts. as she navigated the throng, a deep, resonant voice cut through the chatter.

“{{user}}?”

her breath hitched. she turned, and there he was. stephen. towering, broad-shouldered, and impossibly handsome, just as she remembered him. his dark brown hair, now slightly longer, framed a face etched with the subtle lines of time, but his blue eyes held the same intensity she’d always found both captivating and intimidating. the tattoos that snaked across his chest and arms were even more prominent beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his designer sweater. he wore a rolex watch that seemed to catch every bit of light.

“stephen,” she managed, her voice a little shaky. “what are you doing here?”

“what do you mean, ‘what am i doing here’?” he raised a thick eyebrow, a hint of his characteristic playful arrogance in his tone. “i live here, love. what are you doing here?”

“holidays,” she replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “visiting… experiencing london.”

“experiencing london in this bloody cold?” he chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through her. “come on, let’s get you somewhere warm.”

he took her arm, his grip firm but gentle, and steered her through the market. the familiar scent of his cologne, a blend of sandalwood and something distinctly masculine, filled her senses.

“how have you been?” he asked, his voice softening. “it’s been… what, two years?”

“yeah,” she said, her heart pounding a little faster than it should. “two years. i’ve been good. how about you?”

“busy,” he said, a hint of weariness in his voice. “always bloody busy. but good. very good.” he paused, his gaze lingering on her face. “you look… well. you’ve grown up.”