Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMETVSBZFYW13VPCTT0JHY

The green neon sign of *The Raven’s Nest* flickered like a dying ember as Rory pushed through the door, the weight of the rain-soaked evening clinging to her jacket. The bar was quieter than usual—just a handful of regulars nursing their drinks in the dim glow of vintage lamps, the murmur of conversation low and intimate. She shook the water from her hair, her fingers brushing the crescent scar on her wrist out of habit, and scanned the room for Silas. He wasn’t behind the counter. Then she saw him. Silas was hunched over a table in the far corner, his broad shoulders slightly stooped, the auburn in his hair now more grey than not. He was turned away from her, but she’d know that profile anywhere—the sharp angle of his jaw, the way his signet ring glinted even in the half-light. He was speaking to someone, his voice a low rumble, and for a moment, she hesitated. Maybe she should come back later. Maybe— “Rory?” The voice was familiar, but not the one she’d expected. It was softer, rougher, like gravel worn smooth by time. She turned. Eva stood there, her dark curls shorter now, framing a face that had lost the softness of youth. Her eyes—once bright with mischief—were shadowed, the skin beneath them faintly bruised. She wore a leather jacket that had seen better days, the sleeves pushed up to reveal forearms marked with faint, silvery lines. Rory’s breath caught. “Eva,” she said, and the name tasted like dust. Eva’s lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I was just thinking about you.” Rory swallowed. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” Eva gestured to the stool beside her. “Sit. Silas is pouring me a whiskey. You want one?” Rory hesitated, then slid onto the stool. The wood was warm beneath her palms, worn smooth by years of elbows and spilled drinks. “I didn’t know you were back in London.” “I’m not.” Eva’s fingers tapped against the bar, restless. “Just passing through.” Silas appeared then, setting two glasses down with a quiet clink. His hazel eyes flicked between them, sharp and assessing, but he didn’t say anything. Just gave Rory a small nod before retreating to the other end of the bar. Eva pushed one of the glasses toward her. “Cheers.” Rory lifted the whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. “To old friends.” Eva’s smile twisted. “To old friends who don’t call.” The words hung between them, heavy as the scent of aged wood and spilled liquor. Rory took a sip, the burn of the alcohol grounding her. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to.” Eva’s gaze dropped to her glass. “I deserved that.” Rory exhaled through her nose. “I didn’t say that.” “You didn’t have to.” Eva swirled the whiskey, watching the light play on the surface. “I fucked up, Rory. I know that.” Rory’s fingers tightened around her glass. “You left.” “I had to.” “You could’ve said something.” Eva’s laugh was bitter. “Like what? *Hey, Rory, I’m running off to join a cult because my life is a mess and I don’t know how to fix it*?” Rory flinched. “You could’ve told me the truth.” “The truth?” Eva’s voice rose, then dropped again, her knuckles whitening around the glass. “The truth is I was scared. The truth is I didn’t know how to be the person you thought I was. The truth is I was drowning, and you were the one person who made me feel like I could breathe, and that terrified me.” Rory’s chest ached. “So you just… left.” “I left because I was weak.” Eva’s voice cracked. “I left because I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Like *this*.” Rory looked at her then—really looked. The hollows beneath her collarbones, the way her hands trembled when she thought no one was watching. The faint scars peeking from beneath her sleeves. “What happened to you?” Eva’s laugh was a raw, broken thing. “Life, Rory. Life happened.” Silence stretched between them, thick with everything left unsaid. Rory wanted to reach for her, to pull her into a hug like they used to do after a bad day, but something held her back. Maybe it was the way Eva held herself—like she was braced for a blow. Maybe it was the way the years had carved lines into her face that hadn’t been there before. “Do you remember that night in Cardiff?” Eva asked suddenly. “The one where we snuck out and got drunk on your dad’s whiskey?” Rory’s lips twitched. “I remember throwing up in your mum’s rose bushes.” Eva grinned, and for a second, she was the girl Rory had known—the one with wild eyes and a laugh that could fill a room. “You puked on my shoes.” “You deserved it. You dared me.” “I dared you because I knew you’d do it.” Eva’s grin faded. “You always did.” Rory’s throat tightened. “Not always.” Eva’s gaze dropped to her hands. “No. Not always.” The bar felt smaller suddenly, the air thicker. Rory could hear the tick of the old clock behind the counter, the murmur of Silas wiping down glasses. She wanted to ask where Eva had been, what she’d been doing, why she’d never reached out. But the words stuck in her throat. Eva spoke first. “I heard about Evan.” Rory’s fingers stilled around her glass. “Yeah.” “Are you… okay?” Rory exhaled. “I will be.” Eva nodded, like that was answer enough. “I’m glad.” Another silence. Rory traced the rim of her glass with her thumb. “What now?” Eva didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice was quiet. “I don’t know.” Rory looked at her—really looked. The girl she’d known was still there, buried beneath the weight of time and regret. But she wasn’t the same. And neither was Rory. “Do you want to get out of here?” Rory asked. Eva blinked. “What?” Rory stood, pulling her jacket back on. “Come on. I know a place.” Eva hesitated, then slid off the stool. “Where?” Rory smiled, just a little. “Somewhere we can talk.” Eva’s eyes searched hers, like she was looking for something she’d lost. Then she nodded. “Okay.” They walked out into the rain, the neon sign of *The Raven’s Nest* flickering behind them like a dying star. The street was slick with water, the pavement reflecting the glow of streetlights. Rory didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. Some things couldn’t be undone. But maybe, just maybe, they could be remade.