Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNF6SWWYG7NCEH4MBTNVZ3Y

The Raven's Nest was exactly as Rory remembered it from her university days—dimly lit, the walls covered in maps and black-and-white photographs that seemed to watch from their frames. The green neon sign above the entrance had flickered then, and it flickered now, casting everything in an eerie glow that made the dust motes in the air visible. She'd come here after her shift at Golden Empress, craving something stronger than green tea after delivering the same order to the same flat three times this week. She slid onto a barstool, the vinyl creaking beneath her. Silas emerged from the back room, wiping his hands on a towel. His grey-streaked auburn hair was slightly more grey than she remembered, and the limp in his left leg seemed more pronounced tonight. He looked up, and for a moment, his hazel eyes held the same sharpness they always had—the kind that could see through you to the parts you tried to hide. "Aurora Carter," he said, his voice carrying that familiar lilt that was equal parts Welsh and something else she could never place. "Or do you prefer Rory these days?" "Either's fine," she said, surprised at how easily the old nickname came to her lips. "It's been what, five years?" "Six," Silas corrected, already pouring her usual—Hendrick's gin with a twist of cucumber, no ice. He set it in front of her with practiced precision. "You look... different." Rory ran a hand through her straight black hair, self-conscious suddenly. She'd cut it shoulder-length after Evan, a small act of rebellion she'd told herself. "Life does that to a person." Silas leaned against the bar, his silver signet ring catching the low light as he folded his arms. "I heard about Evan. I'm sorry, Aurora." The use of her full name made her flinch slightly. "You and everyone else. It's been six months. I'm fine." "You're not," he said simply. "But you will be." Before she could respond, the door opened, letting in a gust of cold air and a familiar figure. Rory's breath caught in her throat. The man who entered was taller than she remembered, his shoulders broader, face more angular. He wore a well-tailored coat that looked expensive, the kind of thing Evan would have sneered at as "pretentious." But it was his eyes that stopped her cold. Evan's eyes had been brown, warm like whiskey. This man's were blue—bright, piercing blue that seemed to see everything at once. He scanned the room, and when his gaze landed on her, he froze. Recognition flashed across his features, followed by something she couldn't quite name. Surprise? Regret? Anger? "Silas," he said, his voice deeper than she remembered, carrying an accent that definitely wasn't Welsh. "Fancy seeing you here." "Aiden," Silas nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "It's been a while." Aiden. The name settled in Rory's chest like a stone. Aiden Gallagher. Her childhood best friend. The boy who'd taught her to climb trees and sneak into R-rated movies. The one who'd promised they'd always be friends, no matter what. The one who'd disappeared without a trace the summer before university, leaving nothing but a note that said "I'm sorry" and a phone that went straight to voicemail. "Aurora Carter," Aiden said, and the way he said her name—her full name, just like Silas had—made something twist in her stomach. "You've changed." "So have you," she managed, her voice steadier than she felt. "Last I heard, you were in Edinburgh. Studying medicine, wasn't it?" "Was," he confirmed, moving to the bar with that same confident stride he'd always had. "Things change." Silas watched the exchange with the careful attention of someone observing a chess match. "What can I get you, Aiden? The usual?" "Please," Aiden said, not taking his eyes off Rory. "It's good to see you, Rory. Even if it's been—" "Six years," she finished for him. "Yes. I know." The silence stretched between them, heavy with all the things left unsaid. The late-night conversations about their future. The promises made under oak trees. The way he'd held her hand when her father's cancer diagnosis came through. All of it, suspended in the space between two barstools. Aiden's drink arrived—something amber in a tumbler, neat. He took a sip, and Rory noticed the way his hands moved, more controlled than she remembered. More deliberate. "I didn't know you knew Silas," she said finally, because she had to say something. "We go way back," Aiden said, his eyes flicking to Silas briefly. "He was a friend of my father's. Helped me out when I needed it." "Helped you out how?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. Aiden's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Let's just say I made some mistakes. People got hurt. Silas helped me make it right." The words hung in the air, and Rory felt something shift in her understanding of the man across from her. This wasn't the boy who'd stolen apples from Mrs. Henderson's garden or stayed up all night helping her study for A-levels. This was someone harder, someone who'd seen things she couldn't imagine. "You disappeared," she said quietly. "Just left. No explanation. I thought—" "What? That I'd died?" His voice was sharp, cutting through her words. "That I'd abandoned you?" The bar suddenly felt too small, too intimate. She could hear the clink of glasses from the other end, the low murmur of conversation, but it all faded into background noise. All she could focus on was the man who'd been her best friend, who'd left her behind. "I thought you were dead," she admitted, and her voice cracked on the last word. "After six months of nothing, what was I supposed to think?" Aiden looked away, his fingers tightening around his glass. "I'm sorry, Rory. I truly am. But you have to understand—I was in trouble. Bad trouble. The kind that doesn't just go away because you want it to." "What kind of trouble?" she pressed, despite the warning look Silas shot her. "The kind that involves people who don't like loose ends." Aiden's voice was flat now, all emotion stripped away. "The kind that requires you to disappear completely." Rory's mind raced, trying to reconcile this new Aiden with the one she'd known. The one who'd wanted to be a doctor, who'd spent summers volunteering at the animal shelter, who'd cried when his grandmother died. "Who are you?" she whispered. Aiden met her gaze, and for the first time, she saw the truth in his eyes. "I'm the person I had to become to survive, Aurora. The question is—who are you now?" The words hit her like a physical blow. Who was she? The girl who'd fled Cardiff to escape an abusive ex? The woman who delivered Chinese food part-time while trying to figure out what came next? The friend who'd been abandoned without explanation? "I'm someone who's tired of people leaving," she said, and the words tasted like ashes in her mouth. Aiden's expression softened, just slightly. "I never wanted to leave you. You have to believe that." "Then why did you?" The question came out harder than she intended. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said, "Because staying would have gotten us both killed." The confession landed between them with the weight of six years of silence. Rory's mind spun, trying to process what he'd said. Killed? What had he been involved in? Before she could ask, Silas cleared his throat. "Perhaps this is a conversation better suited for my office. Rory, would you like to join us?" She looked between them—Silas with his carefully neutral expression, Aiden with his guarded blue eyes—and something in her snapped. "No. I don't think I will. I think I've heard enough half-truths for one night." She stood, her chair scraping against the floor. Aiden reached for her, his hand hovering in the air between them. "Rory, please—" "Goodbye, Aiden," she said, and walked out into the cold London night, leaving behind the ghosts of who they used to be and the uncertainty of who they might become.