“Nah, summer in London’s not for the weak, bruv. Especially not on that demonic Central line.”

“Fam, the Central line in July is like sitting inside Satan’s armpit. Just pure hellfire, oh my days! I keep tellin’ man—Central line in July is not TFL. It’s Satan’s Uber.”

“Big man ting, yeah, the last time I used it, which was last week, on Tuesday, when it was about 27 degrees, I came out feelin’ like roast pork, fam. I couldn’t believe it! Man stepped on the train and my knees started sweatin’, bruv! I was like, ‘yo, is that condensation or is my spirit leakin’?’”

“Brudda, it’s peak out there! The worst part, though? Them man with body odours and shit! You know them ones, the ones who hold the rail and the arm comes up bare raw, no shame, no deodorant—just vibes and vinegar. Man can’t breathe out there! It’s peak!”

If there was anything subscribers of Perspective loved, it was the cold opens to episodes of ‘Mad Opinions’. Ash Clovez and Magnum’s scripts were always guaranteed to leave viewers in stitches; even the staff behind the scenes struggled to keep straight faces whenever they started with random conversations on diverse topics.

This late morning was no different, with the brothers’ conversation on hot trains during the summer causing stifled and hard laughs among the crew. Thomas-Muller was doing his best not to burst into laughter while the cameras were rolling. In the control room, Benoy, Sahjara, Ines, Justice, and Donald were laughing in spite of the heat the air-conditioner was doing its best to combat.

“Nahh, for real, though, ‘Satan’s Uber’? These two are unserious,” Sahjara chortled as her laptop sat in front of her.

“I swear!” Ines agreed, laughing as she adjusted her camera for IG Stories. “Real talk, though, they’re not lying. This heat is criminal. I haven’t worn anything past my knees this week. I looked at my wardrobe on Monday and just said to it, ‘Respectfully, no trousers.’ I’m sticking to shorts until summer is over, honestly.”

“I can’t blame you at all,” Justice commented. “I mean, I grew up in Naija, so heat doesn’t faze me normally. But this London heat? It’s heat plus a wet blanket of humidity. Long sleeves in this weather is a serious punishment.”

“Facts. You think I’m coming out here in jeans and hoodies anytime soon?” Benoy added. “Fuck no. Man’s wearing less for now. Oh yeah, and going out more. Hotline Bling settings.”

They all laughed. “Oh, speaking of which, Donnie,” Ines started after the giggles subsided, “did you get the tickets for the funfair?”

Donald nodded. “Yep. Man’s locked in. Meeting up with Amara at 2 after this. Gonna be a great one, still.”

“Indeed,” Sahjara nodded. “Thank goodness you listened to us instead of falling into despair.”

Donald grinned. “A hundred percent, Sahj. Man just had his head stuck in his arse in that moment, you get me? At least you lot knocked some sense back into me.”

“Right. And now you’re gonna have some fun with your girl, with a smart choice of outing. Unlike some people who thought it wise to subject their girlfriends to cinematic trash.”

Justice groaned and threw his hands up as Sahjara shot him a playful glare. He had recently taken Damilola to the cinema to watch ‘Hurry Up Tomorrow’. They absolutely despised the movie, and Damilola, who was on good terms with Sahjara and knew she’d give him grief for the movie choice, told her about it.

True to form, Sahjara did just that, throwing jabs at him whenever she got the chance.

“Kilode, Sahjara, kilode? Ehn? Did I know the movie would be that rubbish? The trailer was promising, and Jenna Ortega was in it. How would I know it would be two hours of nonsense?”

Sahjara rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Justice. The Weeknd was in it. Is that not big enough of a red flag? That dude is amazing with the music, but his acting is shit.”

“Okay, okay, guys,” Benoy interrupted, “I can see a new episode of Justice v Sahjee’s starting up, and I can’t lie, I’m with Justice on this one, but can we get to it when we’re done with the episode, please? The boys are finally done goofing about. “

***

“Yeah, Dr. Patel, it’s been rough. I can barely keep anything down except these halal burgers from a shop near us. Everything else just… comes right back up. It’s really stressing us out.”

Mickey and Carola were seated in the office of Dr. Saniya Patel, a kind-faced obstetrician, for their antenatal appointment. Carola looked tired but radiant in a loose maternity dress, while Mickey, in a simple T-shirt and shorts, sat by her, holding her hand and staring expectantly at Dr. Patel.

“Yeah, doc, she’s not eating enough. I’m proper worried about her and the baby getting the nutrients they need. Is this normal?” Mickey asked, the concern etched on his face.

Dr. Patel nodded sympathetically. “I hear you both, and of course, it’s understandable to be concerned. Based on what you’ve described, Carola, with the persistent nausea and vomiting, it sounds like you’re dealing with a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum, or HG.

“It’s a condition where nausea and vomiting are much more severe than typical morning sickness. It can stick around into the second trimester, sometimes longer, and it’s probably why you’re only tolerating specific foods like those burgers.”

Carola’s eyes were wide throughout the explanation, and she looked quite concerned once Dr. Patel was done. “Hyperemesis? Is that… dangerous for the baby?”

Dr. Patel had a reassuring look on her face. “It can be challenging, but with proper management, we can keep both you and the baby safe. HG can make it hard to get enough nutrients and fluids, which is why you’re feeling so limited in what you can eat. The good news is we have ways to help. First, we’ll start you on some anti-nausea medication that’s safe for pregnancy. I’ll also recommend small, frequent meals of whatever you can tolerate. We’ll work on adding nutrient-dense options slowly. We might also need to give you IV fluids if the vomiting doesn’t ease up, to prevent dehydration.”

Mickey, squeezing Carola’s hand, nodded. “Aight, doc, that sounds like a plan. But why’s this happening to her?”

“Great question, Mickey. HG is thought to be linked to pregnancy hormones, particularly hCG, which peaks early but can stay high for some women. It’s not fully understood why some get it worse, but it is believed that genetics and stress can play a role. Carola, your body’s just reacting strongly to the pregnancy, but you’re not doing anything wrong. We’ll monitor you closely, and I’ll refer you to a dietitian to help find foods that work for you and the baby.”

Carola looked visibly relieved, touching her bump. “Okay, that makes sense. I was so scared it was something worse. I just want our baby to be okay.”

Dr. Patel smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry, Carola, the baby’s fine. Just keep sipping fluids, even small amounts, and stick to what you can handle for now. We’ll schedule weekly check-ins to track your progress. You’re in good hands, and I’m here for any questions. You two are doing great.”

Mickey looked relieved. It was good to know this was a situation under control. Hopefully, this issue could be sorted out quickly. And the love of his life could get back to glowing and being the most beautiful and problem-free expectant mother on the planet.

***

The arrivals area at Gatwick Airport was a bustling maze of travelers, rolling suitcases, and flight boards with information on various flights. Not to mention the myriad of people waiting for family, friends, and business partners.

Simba stood near the exit barrier, hands stuffed in his pockets as his eyes scanned the crowd of travellers arriving from the terminal.

He sighed as his mind started to wander. This was not the first time Nana Esi and Pokua had come around to visit; they came at least once a year. He also visited Ghana as often as possible. It was just… with each visit, his attempt to move on from her lost its power. Every time he saw her… underneath the formal conversations and awkward moments, lay an ache for the good old days.

The good old days of enjoying Nana Esi’s laugh, the times they’d sneak away to talk for hours, the electric pull between them that felt unstoppable and led to moments of passion between them. They were too precious and sweet to let go of, and no matter how much he tried to move on, it just didn’t work.

He shook his head slightly and sighed, feeling that familiar ache of their broken bond settling in his chest. This co-parenting thing felt like settling for less, and it was painful to deal with. He wanted both his child and her mother, the girl he deeply loved more than any other girl, in his life.

It just sucks, chale. It really does. I still love Neesi; I know she’s my soulmate. And I love my baby girl Pokua. There’s nothing I’d love more than to be with them instead of being so far away…

“Daddy! Daddy!”

A familiar high-pitched squeal cut through his thoughts. He looked up, and his face lit up.

Pokua, the seven-year-old bundle of energy with dark eyes and a bright smile that resembled his so effortlessly, burst through the arrivals gate, her small backpack bouncing as she sprinted toward him.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Simba immediately dropped to one knee, arms wide, as she crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hugged her tightly, delight spreading through his system at the sight of his little girl.

“My little star! Look at you, getting so big! How’s my darling Pokua doing?” he grinned as they parted.

Pokua was virtually bouncing with excitement. “I’m so good, Daddy! The flight was so cool this time, coz I got the window seat! And I can’t wait to see the parts of London I’ve not seen yet! Can we go to the London Eye? And the big lions at that square? And the museum with all the dinosaurs? You promised, Daddy, remember?”

Simba chuckled. This little girl of his was a walking definition of the word ‘enthusiastic’. Whenever she was excited about something, it was all she would ever talk about. And considering she had not gotten the chance to get on the London Eye the last time they came, he knew she’d be buzzing to visit it this time, especially since he had promised her.

“Yo, slow down, princess! We’ll hit all those spots, okay? Daddy made a promise, and Daddy’s gonna keep that promise. London Eye, Trafalgar Square, Natural History Museum—the full tour for my girl.”

“Yaayyyyy!”

As she gave him another hug, Simba’s grin faltered as he looked up and saw another familiar face approaching, pulling a small suitcase behind her.

Nana Esi Ofosu.

 Simba’s stomach flipped as he watched her. The same light-skinned beauty with enviable hips and dimples, and that diva-like poise he always teased her about back in the day. The usual rush of old feelings: excitement, longing, and pain, all hit him like a wave.

God, I miss you, Neesi. I miss you so much!

He let go of Pokua and straightened up, forcing composure. He nodded at Nana Esi. “Hey, Nana Esi. Good to see you. Hope the flight was alright?”

Nana Esi had a forced smile on her face, her voice equally formal. “Hello, Simba. The flight was fine, thank you. Pokua was very excited, as you can see.”

He looked down at their daughter, who still looked super excited, and oblivious to the tension. He smiled, then glanced at Nana Esi once more. The air between them was heavy as the last time they met. As usual, their words were clipped and stiff, lacking in warmth of any kind. It was so obvious that little Pokua was the glue holding this relationship, and nothing else.

This. This is what killed the hope in him.

The spark he felt seeing her again was undeniable, but the cold distance in her eyes was a stark reminder of the impossible gap that existed between them now. A reminder that their love, as much as it cut deep, seemed to be confined only to the past. A reminder that in her eyes, it appeared that he was nothing more than the father of her child, and nothing more.

Nothing could hurt more than that. But there was little he could do.

Simba cleared his throat, breaking the awkward tension, then gestured toward the exit. “Um, okay, so… let’s get to the train. It’ll take us straight to central London. Got your tickets?”

Nana Esi nodded, patting her bag. “Yes, all sorted.”

“Alright then, let’s go. Hey Pokua, this summer’s really hot, you know? It’s probably hotter over here than it is in Ghana right now…”

***

“Oh, wow. It’s getting dark already? Wow, must have been knocked out for a while…”

Rubbing his face, Donald sat up on the edge of Amara’s bed, marveling at the sunset outside the window. Their outing had been an incredible one: from cotton candy to splashing out on a number of rides, the couple had thoroughly enjoyed themselves that afternoon. Upon arriving at her Camden apartment, the excitement and laughs they shared turned into cuddles and kisses, and those quickly led to another fervent lovemaking session.

He ran a hand through his hair, a contented smile tugging at his lips as he caught his breath. Life could not be satisfying; work was exciting as always, his parents had ended their recent squabble, and his girl was back. What more could he ask for?

He was so engrossed in his happy thoughts, he barely heard Amara stir and lift herself from bed until she slipped behind him, her arms wrapping around his torso and her bare chest pressing against his back.

The warmth of her skin sent the sweetest of shivers through him. “Flipping heck, Amara,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “it’s proper nice feeling you like this—your awesome breasts against my back.”

She let out a soft laugh, her lips brushing his ear before she playfully nipped at it, making him flinch and chuckle.

“Oh, you’re a cheeky one, still,” he said, turning his head slightly. “You want some more loving, yeah?”

Amara grinned, her chin resting on his shoulder. “Maybe. I guess I need to be all over you again since I soon have to pack for Birmingham,” she murmured.

“Birmingham?” Donald raised an eyebrow, shifting to face her slightly. “What’s going on? How long you gone for?”

“About three weeks,” she replied. “I got in touch with someone who has some plugs that can help me out with the side hustle, and I’m gonna have to be around for a while to get things off the ground. I’ll be leaving on Thursday.”

Donald pouted. “Awww, for real? Just as we was catching up on all the yeh-yeh we’ve missed?”

“I know, baby, I know.” She giggled, then climbed around to face him, straddling his lap. “But don’t worry,” she assured, her voice softening as she leaned in, punctuating each word with a slow, deliberate kiss on his lips. “I’ll. Be. Back. Soon.”

Donald’s hands settled on her hips, his grin widening as he observed her. “Oh, I’ll be waiting, love. We’ve now got plenty more catching up to do,” he drawled, his eyes gleaming with hunger.

Amara snickered, relishing his glazed stare. “So much more catching up. But at least we can continue catching up right now. What do you say?”

“Honey, my brain’s already a muddle looking at all this delicious… fuck, you are so… tantalizing… titillating–“

“Ssssh, Donnie. I know you like what you see. So less talking, more touching– mm! Ohh, good boy, Donnie…”

Dang, Donnie’s really enjoying his girl’s assets, that’s for sure! And we can now see the vibes between Simba and his baby mama. Not very pleasant…