Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMFVFK0XRY7SK6PW21CB23

Aurora Carter stood in the narrow hallway of Eva's flat, her fingers brushing the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. The air was thick with the scent of curry from the restaurant below, mingling with the musty aroma of old books and parchment. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her bright blue eyes fixed on the three deadbolts securing the door. She hadn't expected to be here, not tonight, not ever again if she could help it. But Eva had insisted, and Rory had never been good at saying no to her childhood friend. She reached up and knocked, the sound echoing down the dimly lit corridor. A moment later, she heard the shuffling of feet and the soft meow of Ptolemy, Eva's tabby cat. The door creaked open, and there he was — Lucien Moreau, the Frenchman, standing in the doorway with his heterochromatic eyes, one amber, one black, staring back at her. "Rory," he said, his voice smooth and unruffled, as if they hadn't parted on such complicated terms. He leaned on his ivory-handled cane, the tailored charcoal suit fitting him like a second skin. "Lucien," she replied, her voice betraying none of the turmoil churning inside her. She had always been good at that, at hiding her feelings behind a cool exterior. "Is Eva here?" "She's out," he said, stepping aside to let her in. "But she told me to expect you." Rory hesitated for a moment before stepping into the cramped flat. Every surface was covered with books, scrolls, and research notes, just as she remembered. Ptolemy wound his way around her legs, purring softly. She bent down to scratch behind his ears, grateful for the distraction. "How have you been?" Lucien asked, closing the door behind her and securing the deadbolts. "Busy," she replied, straightening up and meeting his gaze. "You?" "The same," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "The underworld never sleeps." She nodded, unsure of what to say next. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. She glanced around the flat, her eyes landing on a stack of books about demonology. "Eva's still researching, I see." "Yes," Lucien said, following her gaze. "She's been quite obsessed lately. Something about a new discovery." Rory nodded again, her mind racing. She hadn't seen Lucien since that night six months ago, the night they had argued and she had walked out, vowing never to look back. But here she was, standing in front of him, and all the old feelings were rushing back, the attraction, the hurt, the things left unsaid. "Why are you really here, Rory?" Lucien asked, his voice softening. "It's not just to see Eva, is it?" She looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "I needed to talk to her," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But now that I'm here... I guess I need to talk to you too." He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers. "About what?" "About us," she said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "About what happened." Lucien's expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand. "I've missed you, Rory," he said, his voice filled with a vulnerability she had never heard before. "I never wanted things to end the way they did." She looked down at their joined hands, her mind racing. "I know," she said, her voice trembling. "But it was so complicated, and I didn't know how to handle it." "We can figure it out," he said, his grip tightening on her hand. "Together." She looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears. "I don't know if I can trust you again, Lucien." He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "I understand," he said, his voice gentle. "But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back." She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I want to believe you," she whispered. "But I'm scared." "I know," he said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "But we can take it one step at a time. No rush, no pressure. Just us." She opened her eyes, looking up at him. "Okay," she said, her voice steady. "One step at a time." He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you, Rory." She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, Lucien." They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of the past slowly lifting. It wouldn't be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time in a long time, Rory felt a glimmer of hope. Ptolemy meowed, breaking the silence, and they both laughed, the tension easing. Rory bent down to pick up the cat, cradling him in her arms. "Looks like Ptolemy approves," she said, her smile widening. Lucien chuckled, reaching out to scratch the cat's head. "That's a good sign." They spent the next few hours talking, sharing stories and memories, the conversation flowing easily. It was as if the months apart had never happened, and they were back to the way things used to be. But there was a new depth to their connection, a new understanding that came from facing their fears and opening up to each other. As the night wore on, Rory felt a sense of peace settle over her. She knew there would be challenges ahead, but with Lucien by her side, she felt ready to face them. They had a long road ahead, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like they were on the right path. And as they sat together, Ptolemy purring contentedly in her lap, Rory knew that they would be okay. One step at a time, they would find their way back to each other, and this time, they wouldn't let go.