Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT0021JFKFJPWP54MBR5PX1

The three deadbolts on Eva's flat clicked open, one by one, as Rory's hands moved with a practiced ease. She pushed the door open, expecting to be greeted by the familiar sight of Ptolemy, Eva's tabby cat, or the musty scent of old books. Instead, her eyes landed on a figure standing in the dimly lit hallway, his back against the wall, eyes fixed intently on her. Lucien Moreau. Rory's mind struggled to catch up with the sudden appearance of the man she'd last seen...well, she couldn't quite recall. Time had a way of blurring when it came to Lucien. The hurt, the anger, and the unresolved tension between them still lingered, refusing to be forgotten. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. The air was heavy with unspoken words, the silence between them a palpable, living thing. Rory's grip on the door handle tightened as she felt the weight of their complicated history bearing down on her. "What are you doing here?" she asked finally, her voice firm, though a hint of wariness crept into her tone. Lucien pushed off the wall, his movements fluid, his tailored charcoal suit a stark contrast to the cluttered, academic chaos of Eva's flat. "I could ask you the same thing, Rory," he replied, his voice low, smooth as silk. "Though I suppose I already know the answer." Rory's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" He took a step closer, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming in the dim light. "You're not exactly the most... welcoming person, are you? Yet, here I am, and here you are, standing in the doorway, looking like you'd rather be anywhere else." A faint flush rose to Rory's cheeks as she felt a spark of defensiveness ignite within her. She pushed it down, reminding herself that she had every right to be cautious around Lucien. "I wasn't expecting visitors," she said, her voice neutral. Lucien's smile was a thin, enigmatic line. "I didn't exactly give you a choice, did I?" Rory's gaze flicked to the door, then back to Lucien. "How did you get in?" He chuckled, a low, husky sound. "Let's just say I have my ways. You know me, Rory – always prepared." She did know him, all too well. That was the problem. As the silence between them stretched out, Rory became aware of the sounds around her – Ptolemy's soft purring from the living room, the distant hum of the curry house below, the creaks and groans of the old building settling into its foundation. The world outside seemed to be moving, breathing, while time inside Eva's flat had come to a standstill. With a quiet resolve, Rory stepped aside, allowing Lucien to enter. "Come in, then." As he passed her, his shoulder brushed against hers, sending a shiver down her spine. Rory's reaction caught her off guard, and she felt a flutter in her chest. It was a sensation she'd thought she'd long buried, one she'd convinced herself was nothing more than a relic of their complicated past. Lucien's eyes locked onto hers, his gaze piercing, as if he could see right through her defenses. "After you," he said, his voice low, his smile hinting at secrets and unspoken promises. Rory's heart skipped a beat as she turned to lead him into the flat, the dim light and cluttered space swallowing them whole. The door creaked shut behind them, enveloping them in a world of their own, where the past and present collided, and the future hung precariously in the balance.