Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMGKP6J7HMFSM3MW2021GR

Aurora Carter pushed open the heavy wooden door of The Raven's Nest, the familiar creak of its hinges a welcome sound. The dim lighting inside was a stark contrast to the garish neon of Soho's streets, and she paused for a moment to let her eyes adjust. The bar was just as she remembered: walls adorned with old maps and black-and-white photographs, the air thick with the scent of aged whiskey and polished wood. She glanced up at the distinctive green neon sign above the entrance, its glow casting an eerie light on the cobblestone street outside. "Rory!" Silas Blackwood's voice boomed from behind the bar, his hazel eyes twinkling with recognition. He limped over, his silver signet ring catching the light as he extended his hand. "It's been too long." "Si," she replied, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she shook his hand. "It has. How's the knee?" "Still creaky, but it gets me where I need to go," he said with a chuckle, patting his left leg. "What brings you back to the Nest?" "Just needed a familiar place," she said, her voice trailing off as she scanned the room. It was a quiet night, only a few patrons scattered at the tables, nursing their drinks. "And maybe a drink." "Coming right up," Silas said, moving behind the bar with a practiced ease. "The usual?" "Please," she nodded, leaning against the bar. She watched as he expertly mixed her drink, the clinking of ice and the pour of liquid a comforting symphony. As Silas slid the glass across the bar to her, the door creaked open again. Aurora turned her head, her bright blue eyes widening in surprise. Standing in the doorway was a figure she hadn't seen in years, yet one she recognized instantly. "Evan?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the low hum of conversation. Evan stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room before landing on her. He had changed. His once boyish face was now lined with the weight of time, his hair, which had been a rich chestnut, was now streaked with grey. He wore a tailored suit, a far cry from the casual attire she remembered. "Aurora," he said, his voice carrying a mix of surprise and something else she couldn't quite place. Regret, perhaps. Silas, sensing the tension, gave Aurora a questioning look. She nodded slightly, and he moved away, giving them space. "It's Rory now," she said, her voice firmer. "What are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same," he replied, taking a step closer. "I didn't expect to see you here." "Just needed a drink," she said, lifting her glass as if to prove her point. "And you?" "Business," he said, his eyes flicking to the hidden back room, the entrance cleverly disguised as a bookshelf. "But I didn't expect to run into you." "Life's full of surprises," she said, taking a sip of her drink. The familiar burn of whiskey was a welcome distraction from the knot forming in her stomach. They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Evan broke the silence. "You look well," he said, his voice softer. "Different, but well." "Different how?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Stronger," he said, meeting her gaze. "More confident." "People change," she said, her tone guarded. "You look different too." "Time does that," he said with a small, rueful smile. "Can we sit?" She hesitated, then nodded, leading him to a small table in the corner. They sat across from each other, the table a physical barrier between their past and present selves. "So," she said, breaking the silence. "What kind of business brings you to Soho?" "Investment," he said vaguely, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "And you? Still delivering for Yu-Fei?" "Part-time," she said, her voice steady. "It pays the bills." "Still living above the bar?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes searching. "Yes," she said, her fingers unconsciously tracing the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. "It's home." He nodded, his eyes lingering on her wrist for a moment before looking away. "I heard about your father. I'm sorry." "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was a long time ago." "Still," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I should have been there." "You weren't," she said, her tone sharper than she intended. "But that's in the past." "Is it?" he asked, his eyes locking onto hers. "Because it feels like it's still here, between us." She looked away, the weight of his words pressing down on her. "What do you want, Evan?" "I don't know," he admitted, his voice raw. "Closure, maybe. A chance to make things right." "Some things can't be fixed," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Some things are just... broken." "I know," he said, reaching across the table to take her hand. She flinched but didn't pull away. "But I want to try." She looked at their hands, his larger, rougher one covering hers. "Why now?" "Because seeing you here, like this," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "It made me realize how much I've missed you. How much I've missed us." "There is no us," she said, pulling her hand away. "Not anymore." He nodded, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored her own. "I understand. But can we at least try to be friends?" She looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the man he had become. Older, wiser, but still carrying the same spark that had drawn her to him all those years ago. "I don't know," she said honestly. "But we can try." He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "That's all I ask." They sat in silence for a moment, the tension between them easing slightly. The past was still there, a shadow that would always linger, but maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to move forward. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, his tone lighter. "Sure," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "But only if you promise not to talk about the past." "Deal," he said, signaling to Silas for two more drinks. As they sat there, the weight of time and unspoken regret still heavy but no longer suffocating, Aurora allowed herself to hope. Maybe people could change. Maybe they could find a way to be friends. And maybe, just maybe, the future held something better for both of them.