Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPADVZHXWQ3T666P1GZS13

The green neon sign of The Raven's Nest cast an inviting glow over the rain-slicked pavement of Soho. Aurora Carter, or Rory as she preferred, hunched her shoulders against a chill breeze, her black hair framing her face in loose, damp strands. She tugged open the heavy wooden door, stepping out of the drizzle and into the dim warmth of the bar. Immediately, the smell of aged wood and the faint tang of whiskey enveloped her, a peculiar comfort she hadn’t known she missed. Her eyes adjusted to the muted lighting, taking in the quiet hum of subdued conversations and the lazy swirl of cigarette smoke. She nodded to Silas Blackwood, the bar owner, whose familiar hazel eyes met hers with a mixture of surprise and restrained approval. Silas, with his signature silver signet ring and the slight limp that spoke of old stories and bygone escapades, was behind the counter polishing a glass. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Rory,” Silas greeted, his voice a rough rumble like gravel against silk. He set the glass down and leaned forward, resting his broad hands on the bar's scarred surface. “Thanks, Silas,” Rory said, her bright blue eyes catching the dim overhead lights. “It’s been a day. I could use a drink.” He nodded, a slow, understanding dip of his head. “What’s your poison?” “Whiskey. Neat,” Rory replied, sliding onto a stool. Silas moved with practiced ease, the limp barely noticeable, as he fetched an unmarked bottle from a shelf and poured her a generous measure. She took the glass, feeling its reassuring weight in her hand, and took a sip. The burn was instantaneous, spreading warmth through her chest. Sloshing sounds and muted chatter filled the silence between them before Silas spoke again. “Tough shift?” “Something like that,” Rory said, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Deliveries for Yu-Fei Cheung’s Golden Empress had turned out to be a more complex job than she had anticipated, filled with coded messages and shadowy transactions. But Silas didn’t need to know that. Her attention shifted to the room, eyes falling on the worn leather booths and the old maps hanging like skeletons of lost empires on the walls. Rory almost missed the figure sitting alone near the back, where the shadows encroached. A woman, backlit by the soft glow of a wall-mounted lamp, her face initially obscured by the wide brim of a hat. Something about her sent a shiver down Rory’s spine—a distant echo of a memory she had yet to fully grasp. The woman shifted, and the hat tilted upward, revealing a face Rory hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. The years flickered away, and she saw a younger version, vibrant and laughing, with eyes that held the promise of countless adventures. The face now was sharper, more guarded, but undeniably familiar. “Eva?” Rory murmured, barely above a whisper. She slipped off the stool, drink in hand, and made her way to the corner booth. Silas watched her go, a silent sentinel. As Rory approached, the woman’s eyes—once a lively green now tempered by time—locked onto hers. For a heartbeat, neither spoke. Then Eva’s lips curved into a lopsided grin. “Rory Carter. Of all the bars in all the towns in all the world…” Her voice had matured, gained a depth that hadn’t been there before. Eva gestured to the seat opposite her. Rory slid in, placing her glass on the table between them. “I didn't expect to see you in London,” Rory admitted, her eyes searching Eva’s face for the friend she used to know. “Life has a funny way of circling back on itself,” Eva replied, taking a sip from her own drink—something amber and likely as strong as Rory’s whiskey. “I was passing through, had a bit of business to attend to. And you?” “This is where I ended up,” Rory said. She kept her tone light, but the weight of her words settled around them like a dense fog. Eva nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “I heard about Evan. I’m sorry.” Rory flinched at the mention of her ex’s name, old wounds reopening in an instant. She took a sip of her whiskey, needing its fire to steady her. “It’s in the past,” she said, though they both knew that the past had a way of haunting the present. Silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken regrets and the ghosts of shared memories. Rory looked at Eva, really looked at her, and saw the subtle changes: the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, a hardness in her stare that hadn’t been there before. “You’ve changed,” Rory said softly, not an accusation but a simple statement of fact. “I’ve had to,” Eva replied, her tone equally gentle yet edged with steel. “We both have, haven’t we?” Rory took another sip of her drink, the alcohol doing little to burn away the chill that had settled in her bones. “I guess we have.” Eva leaned back in her seat, her eyes never leaving Rory’s. “Do you remember the lake? That summer after graduation?” Rory smiled at the memory. “We swore we’d conquer the world.” “Turns out the world had other plans for us,” Eva said with a rueful chuckle. The tension between who they had been and who they had become was palpable. They had once shared dreams, whispered under the cover of darkness, secrets that had felt like the linchpins of the universe. But as the years had rolled on, those dreams had shifted, cracked under the weight of reality, and splintered into paths that had taken them far from each other. “What happened to us, Eva?” Rory asked, the question emerging raw and jagged. “Life,” Eva said simply. “Life happened. We made choices, faced consequences.” She paused, her eyes softening. “But I never stopped thinking about you, Rory. Wondering if you were okay.” Rory swallowed hard. “I’m... making it. Day by day. What about you?” Eva’s smile was tinged with something Rory couldn’t quite place—resignation, perhaps, or acceptance. “I get by. It’s all any of us can do, isn’t it?” Rory nodded, feeling the weight of time and distance settle between them like an invisible barrier. They were no longer the carefree girls who had giggled and conspired under the summer sun. They were women now, shaped by their experiences, their choices, their regrets. In the silence that followed, Silas approached their table, moving with a grace that belied his injury. “Everything alright here, ladies?” he asked, his gaze settling momentarily on Eva, assessing. “We’re good, Silas,” Rory said, offering him a small smile. He nodded, content to leave them to their conversation, and returned to his place behind the bar. Eva watched him go. “He looks out for you.” “He does,” Rory said. “He’s been... like a mentor. A steady presence.” “You need that,” Eva said, her voice soft. “We all need someone who sees us, really sees us, and sticks around.” Rory met Eva’s gaze, the weight of her words sinking in. “I missed you, Eva,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I missed you too,” Eva replied, reaching across the table to take Rory’s hand. “Maybe this is our second chance. To reconnect, to... figure things out.” Rory squeezed Eva’s hand, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the lingering shadows. “I’d like that,” she said. The two women sat in comfortable silence, holding on to the fragile thread of their rekindled connection. Outside, the rain continued to fall, a soft patter against the window. Inside The Raven's Nest, surrounded by memories and the comforting hum of the bar, Rory and Eva began to bridge the gap of time and change, weaving new threads into the tapestry of their shared history.