Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMD6A8TFHSVK09RNBHAQ7Z

Rory's heart pounded as she opened the door to her flat, revealing the last person she expected to see on her doorstep. Lucien Moreau stood there, immaculately dressed in a charcoal suit, his platinum hair slicked back. His heterochromatic eyes, one amber and one black, pierced into her. They had history — a complicated, tangled history of attraction and hurt, of things left unsaid between them. "Lucien," Rory breathed, her fingers tightening on the doorframe. "What are you doing here?" "May I come in, cherie?" he asked, his voice low and rich. Rory hesitated, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. Part of her wanted to slam the door in his face, to avoid the complicated emotions he stirred within her. But another part, the part that had never truly gotten over him, ached to let him in. After a moment's deliberation, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter. His presence filled the small flat, and Rory couldn't help but notice how his tailored suit accentuated his lean, muscular frame. She closed the door behind him, the sound of the deadbolts sliding into place echoing in the tense silence. Lucien's gaze swept over the cramped space, taking in the scattered books and research notes that covered every surface. His mouth curved into a faint smile as he caught sight of Ptolemy, Eva's tabby cat, curled up on the sofa. "Still living above Silas' bar, I see," he murmured, his eyes finally settling on Rory. She crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive gesture. "What do you want, Lucien?" "I..." He paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "I needed to see you, Rory." Rory's heart stuttered at his words. "After all this time, you just show up on my doorstep?" She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "What, did you think I'd welcome you with open arms?" Lucien's brow furrowed, and he took a step closer. "Non, I... I know I have no right to ask that of you. I've hurt you, and I've regretted it every day since." Rory felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes, but she blinked them back defiantly. "Then why are you here? Why now?" "Because I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because no matter how hard I try, I can't move on." He reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a small, velvet-covered box. "I have something for you." Rory eyed the box warily, her heart pounding in her chest. "What is it?" Lucien extended the box towards her, his hand trembling slightly. "Open it." Hesitantly, Rory took the box, her fingers brushing against his. The contact sent a spark of electricity through her, and she had to suppress a shiver. Slowly, she opened the lid, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the delicate silver necklace inside, the pendant a crescent moon adorned with small, sparkling stones. "Lucien..." she breathed, her eyes lifting to meet his. "I saw it, and it reminded me of you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "The strength and resilience of the moon, the beauty in its imperfections. I... I wanted you to have it." Rory's fingers traced the intricate pendant, her mind racing. This was the Lucien she remembered — the one who could be tender and thoughtful, the one who had once captivated her heart. But she also remembered the hurt, the betrayal, the way he had vanished from her life without a word. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "After all this time, why now?" Lucien stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "Because I never stopped loving you, Rory. I've tried to move on, to forget you, but I can't. You're... you're a part of me, and I can't bear the thought of living without you in my life." Rory felt the tears she had been holding back finally spill over, cascading down her cheeks. "That's not fair, Lucien. You can't just waltz back in and expect me to forgive you, to welcome you back with open arms." "I know," he murmured, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I'm not asking for it. I just... I needed you to know how I feel. That's all." Rory stared at him, her heart warring with her mind. The pain and hurt he had caused her still lingered, a raw wound that had never fully healed. But the pull of his presence, the way he could still make her heart race, was undeniable. Slowly, she closed the box, clutching it tightly in her hand. "I... I don't know what to say." Lucien nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I understand. I'll leave, but..." He paused, his gaze searching hers. "If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me." He turned to leave, and Rory felt a pang of... what, she couldn't quite say. Regret? Longing? Before she could stop herself, she reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Lucien, wait." He turned back to her, his eyes hopeful, and Rory knew in that moment that she could never truly let him go.