Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPADVVTED4TBCZPRK2JGQY

The door to Eva's flat swung open with a creak, revealing Aurora Carter standing on the threshold, her bright blue eyes wide with surprise. She hadn't expected to see him here, not after all this time. Lucien Moreau leaned casually against the doorframe, his heterochromatic eyes — one amber, one black — studying her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "Rory," he said, his voice smooth and accented, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "It's been a while." She swallowed, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. "Lucien," she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. "What are you doing here?" He straightened, the ivory-handled cane in his hand tapping lightly against the floor. "Eva asked me to check on Ptolemy while she's away. I didn't expect to find you here." Rory stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The familiar scent of curry from the restaurant below mingled with the musty aroma of old books, a comforting reminder of the countless hours she'd spent here with Eva. "I came to pick up some notes," she explained, gesturing to the cluttered table piled high with scrolls and papers. Lucien nodded, his gaze lingering on her face. "You look well," he said, his tone softer now, almost tentative. She shrugged, brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear. "I'm managing." There was a pause, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Rory busied herself with the papers, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the small space, making it hard to breathe. "How's the restaurant?" Lucien asked, breaking the silence. "Busy," she replied, glancing up at him. "Yu-Fei keeps me on my toes." He smiled, a genuine warmth in his expression that made her chest ache. "I can imagine." Rory turned her attention back to the notes, her fingers brushing against the familiar texture of Eva's handwriting. She could feel Lucien's eyes on her, a weight she both resented and craved. It had been months since they'd last seen each other, months since she'd walked away from the tangled mess of their relationship, determined to put distance between them. But now, standing here in the cramped flat, she couldn't deny the pull she still felt towards him, the way her heart seemed to recognize him even when her mind insisted she should keep her distance. "Rory," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "About what happened..." She shook her head, cutting him off. "Lucien, don't." He took a step closer, the scent of his cologne — something dark and spicy — enveloping her. "I never meant to hurt you," he said, his eyes searching hers. She met his gaze, the sincerity in his mismatched eyes making her resolve waver. "I know," she said softly. "But it doesn't change what happened." He nodded, a shadow passing over his features. "I wish things were different." "Me too," she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. They stood there, the silence stretching between them, filled with the ghosts of what might have been. Rory could feel the familiar ache in her chest, the longing for something she knew she couldn't have. Lucien reached out, his fingers brushing against the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. "I miss you," he said, his voice barely audible. Her breath caught in her throat, the simple admission cutting through her defenses. She wanted to tell him she missed him too, that she thought about him more often than she cared to admit. But the words stuck in her throat, tangled with the fear of opening herself up to the possibility of being hurt again. Instead, she stepped back, putting distance between them. "I should go," she said, her voice firmer now. Lucien's expression flickered with disappointment, but he nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Take care, Rory." She turned away, her heart heavy as she gathered the notes she needed. As she moved towards the door, Ptolemy, the tabby cat, wound his way around her ankles, a soft purr rumbling in his chest. She bent down, scratching behind his ears, grateful for the distraction. "Goodbye, Lucien," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Goodbye, Rory," he replied, his tone laced with a sadness that mirrored her own. She left the flat, the door closing behind her with a soft click. As she descended the narrow staircase, the weight of what had just transpired settled over her, a bittersweet reminder of the connection they shared, and the distance that still lay between them. Outside, the streets of Brick Lane were bustling with life, the air filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation. Rory paused, taking a deep breath, the cool evening air a balm against the turmoil inside her. She knew she couldn't change the past, couldn't undo the choices that had led them to this point. But as she walked away from Eva's flat, she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, their story wasn't over yet.