Run: 2026-02-19-01KHSYYZG1QF5N5WVYE797NZ9M

Aurora Carter stood in front of Eva's flat, her breath visible in the cold night air. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the door. The three deadbolts stared back at her, a reminder of the security Eva always insisted on. She took a deep breath, then knocked. The door creaked open, revealing Lucien Moreau. His heterochromatic eyes widened in surprise, the amber one catching the dim light from the hallway. He leaned on his ivory-handled cane, his tailored charcoal suit immaculate as always. "Rory," he said, his voice smooth but tinged with something she couldn't quite place. "Lucien," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "I need to see Eva." "She's not here," he said, stepping aside to let her in. "But you knew that, didn't you?" Aurora stepped into the cramped flat, the familiar scent of old books and curry filling her nostrils. Ptolemy, the tabby cat, meowed from his perch on a stack of books. She glanced around, noting the clutter of scrolls and research notes that covered every surface. "I didn't know," she said, turning to face him. "I just... needed to talk to her." Lucien closed the door, the deadbolts clicking into place. "You always did have a knack for showing up at the most inconvenient times." She crossed her arms, her bright blue eyes meeting his mismatched gaze. "And you always had a knack for being where you weren't wanted." He smirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Touché." They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. Aurora's mind raced, memories of their past flashing before her eyes. The late-night conversations, the stolen glances, the unspoken words that had lingered between them. "Why are you here, Rory?" Lucien asked, his voice softer now. She looked away, her gaze falling on Ptolemy, who had curled up on a pile of papers. "I needed to get away. From everything." "From Evan?" he asked, his tone sharp. She flinched at the mention of her ex's name. "Yes. And no. It's complicated." Lucien took a step closer, his cane tapping softly on the wooden floor. "It always is with you." She met his gaze again, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the man she once knew. "Why are you here, Lucien?" He sighed, running a hand through his slicked-back platinum blond hair. "Eva asked me to look after the place while she's away. She didn't mention you'd be dropping by." "I didn't plan on it," she admitted. "I just... needed a place to think." He nodded, his expression unreadable. "You can stay. For tonight." "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. He turned away, moving to the small kitchenette. "Tea?" "Sure," she replied, watching him as he filled the kettle. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, as if he were trying to keep himself busy. As the kettle boiled, Aurora wandered over to the window, looking out at the bustling street below. The neon signs of the curry houses cast a colorful glow on the pavement, and the sounds of laughter and conversation drifted up to the flat. "Do you ever miss it?" she asked, not turning around. "Miss what?" Lucien's voice came from behind her. "Us. What we had." He was silent for a moment, and she could feel his eyes on her back. "Sometimes," he admitted. "But we both know it couldn't have worked." She turned to face him, her heart aching at the truth in his words. "Why not?" He set the teapot on the table, his gaze meeting hers. "Because we're too different. You know that." "Different how?" she challenged, stepping closer. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're human, Rory. I'm not. And that will always be a barrier between us." She shook her head, frustration bubbling up inside her. "That's just an excuse. We could have made it work if we tried." "Maybe," he conceded. "But we didn't. And now here we are." She looked down at her hands, the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist a stark reminder of her past. "I never stopped caring about you, Lucien." He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "I never stopped caring about you either, Rory. But sometimes, caring isn't enough." She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I know." They stood there, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and lingering regrets. The kettle whistled, breaking the moment. Lucien turned away, pouring the tea into two mismatched mugs. "Here," he said, handing her one. "Thanks," she murmured, taking a sip. The warmth of the tea spread through her, soothing her frayed nerves. Lucien sat down at the small table, gesturing for her to join him. She hesitated for a moment before sitting across from him. They sipped their tea in silence, the weight of their past hanging heavy in the air. "Do you ever wonder what might have been?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "All the time," he admitted, his gaze fixed on his mug. "But wondering doesn't change anything." "No, it doesn't," she agreed. "But it helps to know I'm not the only one who thinks about it." He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "You're not alone, Rory. You never were." She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his. "I wish things were different." "Me too," he said, his voice filled with a quiet sadness. They sat there, their hands touching, the silence between them filled with the weight of their shared history. The world outside continued to move, but in that moment, it felt like time had stopped. "Maybe," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Maybe we can start over. As friends." He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "I'd like that." She squeezed his hand, a small spark of hope igniting in her chest. "Me too." They sat there, their hands intertwined, the past slowly fading away as they looked towards an uncertain but hopeful future.