Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMNBN7DY2Y6W4BRV48332AQ

The door to Eva’s flat creaked open before Rory could even turn the key, the sound swallowed by the thick hum of Brick Lane below. She paused, fingers hovering over the lock, her pulse already thrumming in her throat. The air inside was thick with the scent of old paper and something sharper—incense, maybe, or the faint metallic tang of Ptolemy’s fur after a nap in the sunbeam. “Rory?” Eva’s voice cut through the silence, warm but cautious, like she was gauging the weight of the world outside the door. “You’re early.” Rory exhaled, her breath fogging the glass of the small window beside the door. “I changed my mind.” She stepped inside, the weight of her backpack shifting against her shoulders. The flat was exactly as she remembered it—books stacked precariously on every surface, scrolls tied with frayed ribbon, the faint glow of a candle casting long shadows across the walls. Ptolemy lifted his head from his perch on the arm of Eva’s chair, tail flicking, before settling back down with a contented sigh. Eva was already moving, pulling Rory into a quick, tight hug. “You didn’t have to come,” she murmured against Rory’s hair, her voice muffled. “I could’ve sent someone else.” Rory stiffened for half a second before relaxing into the embrace. “I know. But I needed to see this for myself.” She pulled back just enough to meet Eva’s eyes, the blue of her irises sharp against the amber glow of the candlelight. “Besides, I’ve got a feeling this isn’t going to be as simple as I thought.” Eva’s lips twitched, but she didn’t smile. “No. It’s not.” The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them in the quiet of the flat. Rory glanced around, her gaze landing on the stack of books on the coffee table—*The Art of War*, a tattered copy of *The Necronomicon*, and a few others she didn’t recognize. “You’ve been busy.” Eva waved a hand dismissively. “Just research. Nothing important.” She gestured toward the kitchen, where a kettle was already whistling. “Tea?” “Please.” Rory kicked off her shoes, the soles of her feet tingling from the cold pavement. She sank onto the armchair, running her fingers over the worn leather. “How’s the cat?” “Ptolemy’s fine.” Eva poured water into a mug, the clink of the china sharp in the silence. “He’s been keeping me company.” Rory watched her, the way Eva’s fingers moved with practiced ease, the way her dark hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders. She’d always been beautiful in a way that didn’t demand attention—like a quiet storm, building slowly before unleashing itself. And Rory had been the one to walk into it, again and again. “You look different,” Eva said, sliding a mug toward her. The steam curled up between them, warm and intimate. “Taller. Stronger.” Rory took the tea, the heat seeping through the ceramic. “Just from working at the Golden Empress. Deliveries, you know how it is.” She took a sip, the bitter-sweet flavor of Earl Grey coating her tongue. “You?” Eva’s smile was fleeting, sad. “I’ve been… busy.” Rory knew that look. She’d seen it in the mirror too many times after Evan. The weight of things unsaid, the way the world kept turning even when you wanted to stop it. “You’re not the same either.” Eva exhaled, her breath shaky. “No. I’m not.” A silence settled between them, thick and heavy. Rory could feel it pressing down on her, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty but full—full of everything they hadn’t said, everything they’d left hanging between them. She set her mug down, her fingers brushing against Eva’s. “You should’ve told me,” Rory said finally, her voice low. “About the… other things.” Eva’s gaze flickered to her hand, then back up to her eyes. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to know.” “Would you have told me if you thought I would’ve run?” Eva’s lips parted, but no words came out. She just shook her head, her dark hair shifting like a curtain around her face. Rory stood, her chair scraping against the floor. She walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside to let in the dim light of Brick Lane. The street below was alive with the glow of neon signs and the murmur of voices, but here, in this quiet flat, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. “What happened?” she asked, her voice steady despite the way her heart was pounding. “After I left.” Eva didn’t answer right away. When she did, her voice was quiet, like she was speaking to someone who wasn’t there. “You were gone. And then… things got complicated.” Rory turned, her back to the window. “Complicated how?” Eva’s fingers twined together in her lap. “I made a mistake.” “A big one.” Eva met her eyes, her own dark and unreadable. “Yes.” Rory’s chest tightened. She knew that look. She’d seen it in the mirror after Evan, the way the world had shifted beneath her feet and she hadn’t known how to stop it. “You loved him.” It wasn’t a question. Eva didn’t answer. “And he loved you back.” Still no answer. Rory’s breath hitched. She’d known, deep down, that this was where it was going. She’d known and still she’d come. Still she’d hoped. “You should’ve told me,” she said again, her voice breaking just a little. “Before you got involved with him.” Eva’s hands clenched into fists. “I didn’t know how to tell you. Not like this.” “Like what?” Eva’s voice was barely a whisper. “Like I was in love with someone else.” Rory’s heart hammered against her ribs. She could feel the tears burning behind her eyes, the way her vision blurred at the edges. She swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “You should’ve told me. Before you let him hurt you.” Eva’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know he would.” Rory turned away, her hands shaking. She could feel the weight of Eva’s gaze on her back, the way the air between them crackled with unsaid words. She wanted to scream, to run, to do anything but stand here in this quiet flat with the woman she loved and the pain of what they’d lost. “Why now?” she asked, her voice raw. “Why come back to me now?” Eva stood, her chair scraping against the floor. She walked to Rory, her hands cupping Rory’s face. “Because I can’t live without you.” Rory’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel Eva’s tears on her skin, the way her hands trembled as they held her face. She wanted to believe her, to let herself believe her, but the world had taught her to be careful. To be afraid. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Rory whispered. Eva’s lips brushed against hers, soft and hesitant. “I know exactly what I’m saying.” Rory’s hands found Eva’s waist, pulling her closer. She could feel the heat of her body, the way her breath came quick and shallow against her lips. She wanted to believe her, to let herself believe her, but the world was a cruel place and it had a way of taking things away. “You should’ve told me,” Rory murmured against her lips. “Before it was too late.” Eva’s hands slid down to Rory’s hips, pulling her closer. “I’m telling you now.” Rory closed her eyes, letting herself feel the weight of Eva’s body against hers, the way her hands trembled as they explored the curve of her waist. She could feel the tears on her cheeks, the way her breath came quick and shallow against Eva’s lips. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” Rory whispered. Eva’s lips brushed against hers again, softer this time. “I know exactly what I’m asking.” Rory’s hands found Eva’s face, her fingers tangling in her dark hair. She could feel the weight of Eva’s tears on her skin, the way her breath came quick and shallow against her lips. She wanted to believe her, to let herself believe her, but the world had a way of taking things away. “You should’ve told me,” Rory murmured again, her voice breaking. “Before it was too late.” Eva’s hands slid down to Rory’s hips, pulling her closer. “I’m telling you now.” The world outside the window blurred, the glow of Brick Lane fading into the dark. Rory could feel Eva’s body against hers, the way her breath came quick and shallow against her lips. She could feel the weight of her tears on her skin, the way her hands trembled as they explored the curve of her waist. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” Rory whispered, her voice raw. Eva’s lips brushed against hers, soft and hesitant. “I know exactly what I’m asking.” Rory’s hands found Eva’s face, her fingers tangling in her dark hair. She could feel the weight of Eva’s tears on her skin, the way her breath came quick and shallow against her lips. She wanted to believe her, to let herself believe her, but the world had a way of taking things away. And yet, here she was. In this quiet flat with the woman she loved, the woman who had hurt her and left her and made her believe that she didn’t matter. But Eva was here now, her hands on Rory’s face, her breath on her lips, and Rory couldn’t bring herself to push her away. “You should’ve told me,” Rory whispered, her voice breaking. “Before it was too late.” Eva’s lips brushed against hers again, softer this time. “I’m telling you now.” And Rory let herself believe her.