Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPB7ZKW6AEQHXC3J0Z8HB7

The green neon sign buzzed faintly above the door, casting an eerie glow on the damp pavement. Rory pushed it open, the faint scent of spilled whiskey and old wood greeting her like an old friend. The Raven’s Nest was quieter than usual tonight, the low hum of conversation barely filling the space. She stepped inside, shaking the mist from her black hair, and scanned the room. Her eyes moved instinctively toward the bar, where Silas stood polishing a glass with his usual methodical precision. His grey-streaked auburn beard caught the light as he glanced up and nodded at her, the silver signet ring on his right hand glinting faintly. She slid onto a stool, leaning her elbows on the polished oak. “How’s the knee?” she asked, her tone light but laced with genuine concern. Silas smirked, his hazel eyes narrowing. “Still stops me from chasing you around the bar. What’s your excuse?” Rory chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Too many deliveries for Yu-Fei today. My feet are feeling it.” Silas set the glass down and reached for a bottle of bourbon. “You’re here late. Something on your mind?” She hesitated, tracing the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. “Just… needed to get out of the flat for a bit.” Silas nodded, pouring her a drink without asking. When it came to Rory, he rarely needed to. He slid the glass toward her, and she wrapped her fingers around it, the amber liquid catching the dim light. She took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle in her chest. The bar felt like a cocoon, the walls lined with maps and photographs that seemed to whisper secrets if you listened closely enough. The door opened again, letting in a gust of cold air. Rory glanced over her shoulder out of habit, her gaze landing on the figure stepping inside. He was tall, his dark coat damp from the rain, and there was something familiar about the way he moved—a certain confidence that tugged at her memory. He paused just inside the door, shaking water from his hair, and when his eyes met hers, she froze. “Evan,” she said softly, the name slipping out before she could stop it. He blinked, surprise flickering across his face before it settled into something harder, more guarded. “Rory,” he replied, his voice rough but familiar. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning her face as if searching for the girl he once knew. “It’s been a while.” “Yeah,” she said, her voice steady despite the sudden tightness in her chest. “Five years, give or take.” He nodded, his gaze darting toward the bar. Silas was watching them with an unreadable expression, his hand resting casually on the counter. Evan gestured toward the stool next to hers. “Mind if I join you?” She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.” He slid onto the stool, hanging his coat over the back. Up close, she could see the changes time had etched into him—the faint lines around his eyes, the stubble shading his jaw, the way his shoulders seemed broader, more defined. He looked older, harder, and yet there was something in his eyes that hadn’t changed, something raw and unguarded. Silas approached, his limp barely noticeable but present. “What’ll it be?” he asked, his tone neutral. “Bourbon,” Evan said, his eyes still fixed on Rory. “Neat.” Silas nodded and moved to pour the drink. Rory took another sip of hers, her mind racing. Five years was a long time, long enough to build walls, to bury the past, and yet here he was, sitting beside her as if no time had passed at all. “You look good,” Evan said finally, breaking the silence. She raised an eyebrow. “So do you.” He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “That’s a lie. I know I’ve changed.” She shrugged, glancing at him sideways. “Haven’t we all?” He nodded slowly, his expression turning serious. “Yeah. We have.” Silas slid the bourbon toward him, and Evan lifted the glass, swirling the liquid gently before taking a sip. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said after a moment. “I live upstairs,” she replied, her tone casual. “It’s kind of my second home.” “Still?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. “I thought you’d have moved on by now.” She frowned, her fingers tapping lightly against her glass. “Why?” He shrugged, his gaze dropping to the counter. “You always talked about traveling. Seeing the world.” “Things change,” she said quietly. “Plans fall apart.” He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, they do.” They fell into silence again, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy between them. Rory studied him out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way his fingers tightened around his glass, the tension in his jaw. He looked tired, as if he’d been carrying something heavy for a long time. “How’s London been treating you?” he asked finally, his voice softer now. She shrugged. “It’s… complicatesometimes, but I’ve made a life here.” He nodded, his eyes meeting hers. “You always were good at that.” She offered a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “What about you? What brings you back?” He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the maps on the wall. “Work,” he said after a moment. “I’m consulting for a security firm.” “Sounds intense.” He chuckled dryly. “It is. But it pays the bills.” She nodded, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “And… how are you? Really?” He looked at her then, his expression softening. “Honestly? I’m not sure. It’s… complicated.” She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. “Evan, I—” “I’m sorry,” he interrupted, his voice low and earnest. “For everything. I know I messed up, and I’ve regretted it every day since.” She swallowed hard, her throat tightening. “It’s… it’s not just your fault, Evan. We both made mistakes.” “Maybe,” he said, his gaze intense. “But I hurt you, Rory. And I’ll never forgive myself for that.” She looked away, her eyes stinging. “It’s in the past,” she said quietly. “We can’t change it.” He reached out then, his hand brushing hers lightly before pulling back. “No, we can’t. But maybe… maybe we can move forward.” She glanced at him, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “I don’t know, Evan. It’s been a long time.” He nodded, his expression somber. “I know. And I get it if you don’t want anything to do with me. But I needed you to know… I’m sorry. For everything.” She exhaled slowly, her mind racing. The past five years had been a blur of healing and rebuilding, of learning to trust herself again. And yet, sitting here with him, it was as if no time had passed at all. “We’ve both changed,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Maybe… maybe we can start over. As friends.” He smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face. “I’d like that.” She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Me too.” Silas cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Another round?” he asked, his tone teasing. Rory chuckled, shaking her head. “I think I’m good.” Evan glanced at her, his smile softening. “Me too.” They sat in companionable silence for a while, the tension between them easing into something more comfortable. The past wasn’t erased—it never would be—but maybe, just maybe, they could find a way to move forward. As the night wore on, the bar grew quieter, the patrons trickling out into the rain-soaked streets. Rory glanced at the clock above the bar, surprised to see how late it had gotten. “I should probably head upstairs,” she said reluctantly. Evan nodded, standing and grabbing his coat. “Mind if I walk you up?” She hesitated, then smiled. “Sure.” They made their way to the door, the green neon light casting an eerie glow on their faces as they stepped outside. The rain had stopped, leaving the air fresh and cool. They walked in comfortable silence, the weight of their shared history no longer a burden but a bridge. At the door to her flat, Rory turned to him, her heart pounding. “Thanks for… tonight.” He smiled, his eyes warm. “Thank you. For giving me a second chance.” She nodded, her throat tight. “Goodnight, Evan.” “Goodnight, Rory.” She watched as he walked away, his figure disappearing into the misty night. For the first time in years, she felt a sense of closure, as if the past had finally loosened its grip. Maybe they couldn’t rewrite their story, but they could start a new chapter—one written with forgiveness and hope. And for now, that was enough.