Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMMKMJ48E5WV3KQD341GMMX

The Thursday night crowd at The Raven's Nest wasn't particularly lively, but Rory preferred it that way. She leaned against the polished oak bar, idly tracing the rim of her half-empty glass with her fingertip. The green neon sign outside cast an ethereal glow through the windows, painting odd shadows across the room's collection of maps and faded photographs. "Another?" Silas asked, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as he wiped down the counter with practiced efficiency. Rory checked her watch. "Better not. Early delivery shift tomorrow." Silas nodded, moving with the slight hitch in his gait that became more pronounced when he was tired. He'd been on his feet all evening, yet his grey-streaked auburn hair remained perfectly combed, his posture military-straight despite the old knee injury. "Yu-Fei working you hard these days?" he asked, polishing a glass that already looked spotless. "Not harder than usual." Rory took another sip of her drink, savoring the burn. "Just trying to save up. Law school application fees aren't cheap." Silas raised an eyebrow. "Thought you were done with that path." "So did I." She shrugged. "My father called last week. We actually had a civil conversation for once." The door swung open, admitting a gust of cold air and a lone figure. Rory didn't bother turning—just another patron seeking warmth and alcohol on a dreary London evening. "Whiskey, neat," came a voice from several seats down the bar. A voice that made Rory's spine straighten, her fingers tightening around her glass. She turned slowly, hardly daring to believe. The man was thinner than she remembered, his once-boyish face now angular and weathered. But those eyes—sharp, intelligent, unmistakable. "Marcus?" The name felt strange on her tongue after so long. He looked up, confusion giving way to recognition, then shock. "Rory Carter? Christ, it's really you." Silas glanced between them with the subtle assessment of someone who'd spent decades reading rooms. He set down Marcus's whiskey and drifted to the other end of the bar, close enough to hear if needed, far enough to give privacy. Marcus moved to the stool beside hers, bringing with him the scent of expensive cologne and cigarettes. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns," he said with a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Technically it's a whiskey bar," Rory replied, falling back on the familiar pattern of their banter even as her heart hammered against her ribs. "When did you get back from New York?" "Two weeks ago." He took a long sip of his drink. "Consulting job with a firm in the City. Six-month contract, maybe longer." Rory nodded, cataloging the changes in him. The well-tailored suit that had replaced his worn university hoodies. The subtle gray at his temples that hadn't been there four years ago. The wedding band on his left hand that caught the dim light when he raised his glass. "You look good," he said, studying her with equal intensity. "Different, but good." "Different how?" She wasn't sure she wanted the answer. Marcus considered her. "More...substantial. Like you've settled into yourself." Rory laughed, a short, sharp sound. "That's a diplomatic way of saying I've changed." "We both have." He twisted the ring on his finger, a nervous habit he'd never had before. "I heard about what happened with Evan. After you left." The mention of her ex's name sent a familiar chill through her, but it was distant now, like thunder from a storm that had already passed. "Cardiff's a small place for big secrets." "I should have reached out." "You were halfway across the world by then." "Still." Marcus looked down at his drink. "We were friends for fifteen years, Rory. And then suddenly we weren't." The bar seemed to quiet around them, the ambient noise fading as memories rushed in to fill the space. Bike rides through Bute Park. Late-night study sessions. The graduation party where everything had changed. "How's Sarah?" Rory asked, the name of Marcus's wife steady in her mouth despite everything. "She's well. Teaching at Columbia now. She's flying over next month." He hesitated. "We have a daughter. Ellie. She's two." Something twisted in Rory's chest. "Congratulations. You always wanted kids." "And you never did," he replied, a statement rather than a question. "Some things don't change." Rory's fingers found the small crescent-shaped scar on her wrist, tracing its familiar curve. "Though I'm reconsidering law school, apparently." "Your father must be thrilled." "Let's not talk about my father." She finished her drink, welcoming the burn. "Tell me about your daughter instead." Marcus's face softened, the tension in his shoulders easing. "She's brilliant. Stubborn as hell. Has Sarah's eyes but unfortunately got stuck with my terrible hair." "Poor child." He laughed, and for a moment, the years fell away. "She'd like you. You'd be the cool aunt who teaches her all the things her parents don't want her to know." The casual presumption of continued connection—that in some parallel universe they'd remained in each other's lives—hung in the air between them. "Marcus," Rory began, then stopped, unsure how to navigate the sudden undertow of emotion. "I know," he said quietly. "We can't go back." Silas appeared, silently refilling their glasses despite Rory's earlier refusal. His signet ring glinted as he set down the bottle, giving her a look that said he'd be within earshot if needed. "So," Marcus said after Silas had gone. "You live in Soho now?" "Above the bar, actually. Silas rents me the flat upstairs." She nodded toward her employer. "He's a good landlord. Doesn't ask questions when I come home at odd hours." "Delivery person by day, mysterious night owl by...night." Marcus smiled. "Always did wonder what you'd end up doing." "This wasn't exactly on my five-year plan." "What was?" The question carried weight beyond its simplicity. What had she wanted back then, before everything? Before Evan, before Marcus and Sarah, before she'd fled to London with nothing but a duffel bag and Eva's spare key? "I don't remember anymore," she answered honestly. "It feels like another life." Marcus nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I have those moments too. Looking in the mirror and wondering who I've become." "Are you happy with him? The man in the mirror?" He considered the question with the seriousness it deserved. "Most days. He's accomplished things I'm proud of. Made choices I can live with." He looked at her. "Not all of them, though." The air between them thickened with unspoken words. "What happened that night, Rory? Really?" She knew which night he meant without asking. The graduation party. The last time they'd seen each other before today. "You know what happened," she said quietly. "I saw you with Sarah. You made your choice." "It wasn't that simple." "It was to me." Rory's bright blue eyes met his unflinchingly. "I waited for you for two years, Marcus. Through your 'finding yourself' phase and your backpacking summer and your endless indecision. Then I watched you kiss my roommate at our graduation party." "I came to explain the next day. You were already gone." "Back to Cardiff. To lick my wounds and make an even worse decision." She laughed bitterly. "Evan was there. Familiar. Safe, or so I thought." Marcus flinched. "I never meant—" "I know you didn't." Rory sighed, the anger that had sustained her for so long finally dissipating like smoke. "We were young and stupid and hurt each other in ways we didn't even understand." "And now?" "Now we're older. Hopefully a little less stupid." She raised her glass. "To the roads not taken." He clinked his glass against hers, eyes searching her face. "I did love you, Rory." "I know," she said softly. "Just not enough." They drank in silence, the weight of years and might-have-beens settling between them. Behind the bar, Silas began his closing routine, the familiar sounds of glasses being arranged and chairs stacked a comforting background to the moment. "I should go," Marcus finally said, checking his watch. "Early meeting tomorrow." Rory nodded. "Still a morning person, then? Some things really don't change." He smiled, standing to put on his coat. "Could I—would it be alright if I called you sometime? Coffee, maybe?" The question hung in the air, fraught with possibility and the ghosts of their shared history. "I'd like that," she said after a moment. "As friends." "As friends," he agreed, relief evident in his voice. He pulled out a business card, writing his personal number on the back before sliding it across to her. Their fingers brushed briefly in the exchange. "Goodnight, Aurora Carter," he said, using her full name like he used to when they were children. "Goodnight, Marcus Lewis," she replied, tucking the card into her pocket. She watched him walk away, his steps measured and confident as he pushed through the door and disappeared into the London night. The green neon sign caught his silhouette for a brief moment, transforming him into a stranger before he vanished completely. "Old friend?" Silas asked, limping over to collect their glasses. "The oldest," Rory answered, turning back to the bar. The maps on the wall seemed to shimmer in the low light, countless paths spreading out in all directions. "We grew up together." Silas nodded, his hazel eyes knowing. "The past has a way of finding us, doesn't it?" "So it seems." She stood, suddenly tired beyond measure. "Put the drinks on my tab?" "Already forgotten," he replied with a gentle smile, his silver signet ring catching the light as he waved away her protest. "Get some rest, Rory." She climbed the narrow staircase to her flat, Marcus's card a weight in her pocket. Through the thin walls, she could hear Silas moving below, closing up the bar with the same methodical precision he applied to everything. Outside her window, London continued its endless rhythm, indifferent to the small dramas playing out within its borders. Rory stood looking out at the rain-slicked streets, her reflection ghostly in the glass. Behind her, the empty flat waited, full of possibilities she hadn't considered until tonight. She touched the crescent scar on her wrist and smiled.