Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPAQHSFZ99R7PMT5FX1Z2N

The Raven's Nest hummed with the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses punctuating the air like distant chimes. Aurora Carter leaned against the bar, her bright blue eyes scanning the dimly lit room, taking in the familiar scent of aged wood and spilled spirits. The walls, adorned with old maps and black-and-white photographs, whispered stories of lives lived and lost, much like her own. She tucked a loose strand of her straight black hair behind her ear, the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist catching the light as she moved. Silas Blackwood, the bar’s owner and her mentor, stood behind the counter, pouring a drink for a regular. His grey-streaked auburn hair and neatly trimmed beard framed a face that had seen too much, yet still held a certain warmth. He caught her eye and nodded, a silent acknowledgment of their shared history. “Rory,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he approached her. “You look well. Busy night?” “Just the usual,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Deliveries and dodging the rain. You know how it is.” Silas chuckled softly, his hazel eyes glinting with a mix of pride and concern. “You’ve always had a knack for making the best of things. Just like your mother.” Aurora’s heart tightened at the mention of her mother. Jennifer Carter had been a beacon of light in her life, a guiding force that had dimmed far too soon. “Thanks, Si. I try.” As they exchanged pleasantries, the door swung open, and a gust of cold air swept through the bar, carrying with it the scent of rain-soaked pavement. Aurora turned, her gaze drawn to the figure stepping inside. The moment she recognized him, her breath caught in her throat. “Evan?” He stood there, a silhouette against the neon green sign that flickered above the entrance. The years had changed him, but not in the way she had hoped. His once-boyish charm had hardened into something more jagged, a roughness that spoke of battles fought and lost. His hair was longer, tousled, and his clothes hung loosely on his frame, as if he had forgotten how to care. “Rory,” he said, his voice a low rumble, tinged with surprise. The bar seemed to shrink around them, the laughter and chatter fading into a distant hum. Aurora’s heart raced, a mix of dread and disbelief. She hadn’t seen him since she left Cardiff, since she had fled the life he had once promised her. “What are you doing here?” she managed, her voice steadier than she felt. Evan stepped closer, his eyes searching hers, a flicker of something—regret, perhaps—passing between them. “Just passing through. Thought I’d stop in for a drink.” “Right.” She crossed her arms, a defensive gesture that felt instinctual. “You always did like to pop up unannounced.” Silas, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. “I’ll get you a drink, Evan. What’ll it be?” “Just a beer, thanks.” Evan’s gaze remained fixed on Aurora, as if she were the only thing anchoring him to this moment. As Silas moved away, the silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Aurora’s mind raced, memories flooding back—laughter shared over late-night conversations, dreams whispered in the dark, and the way he had once made her feel invincible. But those memories were tainted now, marred by the pain of their last encounter. “Rory, I—” Evan began, but she cut him off. “Don’t. Just don’t.” Her voice was sharper than she intended, but the hurt was still fresh, a wound that had never fully healed. “You don’t get to just show up after all this time and act like nothing happened.” “I know,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “I messed up. I was stupid. I thought I could fix things, but—” “Fix things?” She laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the dim light. “You think you can just waltz back into my life and fix things? You left me, Evan. You chose your path, and I had to choose mine.” He flinched at her words, the weight of her accusation hanging in the air. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was lost. I thought I could find my way back, but—” “Back to what? To us?” She shook her head, her heart pounding in her chest. “You don’t get to decide that anymore. I’m not that girl you left behind.” Evan’s expression shifted, a flicker of realization crossing his face. “I can see that. You’ve changed, Rory. You’re… different.” “Of course I am.” She took a step back, the distance between them feeling both necessary and suffocating. “I had to be. I had to survive.” Silas returned with Evan’s beer, placing it on the bar with a knowing look. He sensed the tension, the unresolved history crackling like static in the air. “You two need to talk,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “But not here. Not now.” Aurora shot him a grateful glance, her heart racing. She didn’t want to be trapped in this moment, not with Evan, not with the ghosts of their past looming over them. “Let’s go outside,” she said, her voice steadier now. “We can’t do this here.” Evan nodded, relief washing over his features. They stepped out into the cool night air, the rain having subsided to a gentle drizzle. The streets of Soho glistened under the streetlights, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside her. They walked in silence for a moment, the sound of their footsteps echoing against the cobblestones. Aurora could feel the weight of his gaze on her, a mix of longing and regret that made her skin prickle. “Rory,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “I’ve thought about you every day since… since everything happened. I never wanted to hurt you.” “Then why did you?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, raw and unfiltered. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to handle what we had. I thought I could run away from it, but it only made things worse.” Aurora stopped, turning to face him. “You think running away makes it better? You think it’s that easy?” “I know it’s not,” he said, his eyes pleading. “I’ve made mistakes, Rory. I’ve hurt people, and I’ve hurt myself. But I’ve changed. I’m trying to be better.” “Better?” She scoffed, crossing her arms again. “You think a few years and a change of scenery can erase what you did? You left me when I needed you the most.” “I know,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’m sorry. I can’t change the past, but I want to make things right. If you’ll let me.” Aurora’s heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the walls she had built around herself. But could she trust him again? Could she allow herself to be vulnerable after everything? “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I’ve built a life for myself, Evan. I’ve learned to stand on my own two feet. I can’t just forget what happened.” “I don’t want you to forget,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes searching hers. “I just want a chance to show you that I’ve changed. That I’m not the same person I was.” The rain began to fall again, a soft patter against the pavement, and Aurora felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She could see the man he had become, the shadows of his past still lingering but softened by the light of his sincerity. “Maybe,” she said slowly, her heart racing. “But it’s going to take time. Trust isn’t something you can just reclaim.” “I understand,” he replied, his voice steady. “I’ll wait. I’ll do whatever it takes.” As they stood there, the rain washing over them, Aurora felt the first stirrings of hope. It was fragile, like a new bud pushing through the frost, but it was there. Perhaps they could find a way back to each other, not as the people they once were, but as the people they had become. And in that moment, under the soft glow of the streetlights, she took a step forward, ready to face whatever came next.