Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPEV4NFFA6PD27ZS61GXV8

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 a mixture of amusement and something else she couldn't quite place. "Rory," he said, his voice smooth and accented, a hint of France lingering in the vowels. "It's been a while." She swallowed, her heart doing an involuntary flip at the sound of her name on his lips. "Lucien," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "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." Aurora stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The familiar scent of spices from the curry house below mingled with the musty aroma of old books, creating a comforting, if slightly overwhelming, atmosphere. Ptolemy, the tabby cat, was curled up on a pile of scrolls, watching them with lazy interest. "I needed a place to think," she admitted, glancing around at the cluttered room. "Eva's flat is... quiet." Lucien chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "Quiet? With all these books threatening to topple over at any moment?" She couldn't help but smile, a small, reluctant curve of her lips. "You know what I mean." He nodded, his expression softening. "I do." There was a pause, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Aurora shifted her weight, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. The small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist caught the light, a reminder of a childhood accident and, perhaps, of the scars that couldn't be seen. "How have you been?" Lucien asked, his gaze lingering on her face. "Busy," she replied, a touch too quickly. "Work, you know." "Still delivering for Yu-Fei?" "Yeah," she said, nodding. "It's... steady." He tilted his head, studying her with those mismatched eyes. "And how's life above Silas' bar treating you?" "It's fine," she said, a little defensively. "It's not Cardiff, but it's home." Lucien's lips quirked into a half-smile. "I never imagined you'd end up in a place like that." "Neither did I," she admitted, her voice softening. "But here we are." "Here we are," he echoed, his tone thoughtful. Another silence settled over them, the kind that was both comfortable and charged with tension. Aurora moved to the small kitchenette, busying herself with the kettle. "Tea?" she offered, more to fill the space than anything else. "Please," Lucien replied, watching her with an intensity that made her fingers fumble with the cups. As the water boiled, she felt his presence behind her, a warmth that was both reassuring and unsettling. She turned, finding him closer than she'd expected, his gaze unwavering. "Why did you really come here, Rory?" he asked, his voice low. She hesitated, the truth hovering on the tip of her tongue. "I needed to get away," she said finally. "From everything." "From him?" Lucien's question was gentle, but it cut through her defenses like a blade. "Yes," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "From Evan." His expression darkened, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. "If he ever—" "He won't," she interrupted, her tone firm. "I won't let him." Lucien nodded, but the tension in his jaw remained. "You deserve better, Rory." She looked away, focusing on the steam rising from the kettle. "I know." He reached out, his fingers brushing against her wrist, just above the scar. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt through her, a reminder of the connection they'd once shared. "Do you?" he asked softly. She met his gaze, the question hanging between them like a fragile thread. "I do," she said, more to convince herself than him. The kettle whistled, breaking the moment. Aurora turned back to the task at hand, pouring the hot water into the cups. She handed one to Lucien, their fingers brushing briefly. "Thank you," he said, his voice a little rougher than before. They moved to the small table by the window, the city lights casting a soft glow over the room. Ptolemy stretched, yawning widely before settling back into his nap. "Do you ever miss it?" Lucien asked, cradling his cup in his hands. "Miss what?" "Cardiff. Your old life." Aurora considered the question, her mind drifting back to memories of green hills and familiar faces. "Sometimes," she admitted. "But I don't regret leaving." He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "London suits you." "Does it?" she asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "It does," he said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're stronger here." She laughed softly, a sound that was both genuine and tinged with disbelief. "I don't always feel that way." "You are," he insisted, his gaze steady. "I've seen it." They fell into a companionable silence, sipping their tea as the city hummed around them. The tension that had lingered between them began to ease, replaced by a sense of familiarity that was both comforting and bittersweet. "Lucien," she said after a while, her voice tentative. "Yes?" "Why did we stop talking?" He sighed, a long, slow exhale that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken regrets. "I think we both needed space," he said finally. "To figure things out." "Did you?" she asked, her heart in her throat. He met her gaze, his eyes searching hers. "I did," he said, his voice steady. "And I realized something." "What?" "That I miss you," he said simply. "More than I thought possible." Her breath caught, the words both a balm and a wound. "I miss you too," she admitted, the confession slipping out before she could stop it. He reached across the table, his hand covering hers. The touch was warm, grounding, and she felt something inside her begin to thaw. "Maybe we can start over," he suggested, hope threading through his voice. "Maybe," she agreed, a tentative smile breaking through. "I'd like that." They sat together, hands entwined, as the city outside continued its relentless pace. In the quiet of Eva's flat, surrounded by books and memories, they found a moment of peace, a chance to begin again.