Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMEX8907AAWWHC6NZ61YH2

The rain had been falling in a steady drizzle all day, washing the streets of Soho in a dreary, hammering monotony. By the time Rory pushed through the heavy oak doors of Silas' bar, her coat was soaked and her boots were sloshing with every step. The interior of the Raven's Nest was mercifully warm and dry, the air thick with the comforting aroma of tobacco and spilled whiskey. As she unwound her scarf and surveyed the dimly lit room, a familiar figure caught her eye. Rory's breath caught in her throat, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears. It couldn't be. Across the room, nursing a glass of amber liquor, sat Eva — her oldest and dearest friend. Rory had to blink several times, certain her eyes were playing tricks on her. But no, it was undeniably Eva, all tousled dark hair and sharp features, hunched over the polished bar like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Rory hesitated for only a moment before weaving through the scattered tables and patrons, her steps quickening with each passing second. "Eva?" Rory's voice came out barely above a whisper, uncertainty lacing every syllable. The other woman turned, and Rory was struck by how much she had changed. Gone was the vibrant, mischievous girl she had known — in her place was a woman worn down by the years, her eyes dulled and her mouth set in a thin, humorless line. When she spoke, her voice was rough and hoarse, as if she hadn't used it in ages. "Rory." A flicker of recognition flashed across Eva's face, but it was quickly extinguished, replaced by an inscrutable mask. "I hardly recognized you." Rory's brow furrowed with concern as she studied her old friend. "What are you doing here?" Eva let out a hollow, mirthless laugh. "Drowning my sorrows, it would seem." She gestured to the half-empty glass in her hand. "Care to join me?" Rory hesitated, torn between her worry for Eva and her lingering uncertainty. So much time had passed, so many unspoken words hanging between them. But the pull of their shared history was undeniable, and she found herself nodding mutely before sliding onto the barstool beside her friend. "So," Rory began, her voice soft, "it's been a while." "That's one way to put it." Eva took a long sip from her glass, the amber liquid burning a path down her throat. "Nearly ten years, if I'm not mistaken." The weight of those words hung heavy between them, a lifetime of distance and unresolved issues. Rory felt a pang of guilt, remembering how they had parted ways — a heated argument, harsh words exchanged, and then nothing but silence. "I... I'm sorry," Rory murmured, the words feeling inadequate, but needing to be said all the same. "For everything." Eva's gaze flickered to Rory, her expression unreadable. "Don't," she said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. "Don't start with the apologies. It's been too long for that." Rory nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she grappled with how to proceed. The years had erased the easy familiarity they had once shared, leaving a gulf of uncertainty. But still, Rory couldn't help but feel a deep ache to reconnect, to understand what had become of her old friend. "I have to ask," she said tentatively, "what happened to you, Eva? You look... different." Eva let out a heavy sigh, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "A lot has happened, Rory. More than you can imagine." She took another sip, the lines of her face etching deeper with each passing moment. "I'm not the same person I was back then. None of us are, I suppose." Rory's heart clenched at the sadness in Eva's voice, the weight of unspoken pain. She reached out, her hand hesitantly resting on Eva's forearm. "Talk to me," Rory pleaded, her blue eyes searching Eva's face. "Please. I... I've missed you." For a moment, Eva's composure seemed to waver, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. But just as quickly, the mask snapped back into place, and she pulled away, shaking her head. "It's not that simple, Rory. Too much has changed. Too much has been lost." She laughed again, the sound hollow and bitter. "You have no idea what I've been through." Rory felt a familiar ache in her chest, the kind that came with the realization that the person in front of her was no longer the vibrant, carefree friend she had once known. Time had worn them both down, carving new paths that had drifted them apart. "Then help me understand," Rory pleaded, her voice soft but insistent. "I want to know. I want to be there for you, like I used to be." Eva's gaze darted away, her fingers tightening around the glass. For a long, tense moment, the only sound was the low murmur of conversation and the clinking of glassware. Then, with a heavy sigh, Eva began to speak. "After you left..." she started, her words halting and laced with pain. "Everything fell apart. The job, the apartment... my life. I tried to hold it all together, but it was just too much." Rory listened, her heart breaking as Eva recounted the litany of hardships that had befallen her — the loss of her job, the descent into addiction, the desperate attempts to claw her way back. Each revelation was a punch to Rory's gut, a stark reminder of how much she had missed, how much she had failed to be there for her oldest friend. As Eva's story unfolded, Rory found herself floundering, the weight of regret and guilt heavy in her chest. She had been so wrapped up in her own troubles, so consumed by her need to escape, that she had abandoned Eva when she needed her most. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, and Rory felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I should have been there. I should have..." Eva raised a hand, silencing Rory with a weary shake of her head. "It's too late for that now," she said, her gaze distant and unfocused. "What's done is done. We can't change the past, no matter how much we might wish we could." Rory opened her mouth to protest, to insist that she could make amends, that they could rebuild what they had lost. But the words died on her lips, the realization dawning that Eva was right. The chasm between them had grown too wide, the wounds too deep to simply be mended. So instead, Rory reached out, her hand tentatively covering Eva's trembling one. And in that moment, as their eyes met, a silent understanding passed between them — a shared acknowledgment of the weight of time and the irreversible changes that had torn them apart.