Run: 2026-02-19-01KHT06EPN7PVTQWH79EYMS3D4

The door creaked open, its hinges protesting the sudden interruption of their evening slumber. Eva's Flat, once a sanctuary, now felt like a trap. Aurora Carter stood frozen, her bright blue eyes fixed on the figure looming in the dimly lit corridor. The soft glow of the setting sun, filtering through the grimy Brick Lane windows, danced across Lucien Moreau's chiseled features, accentuating the sharp planes of his face. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. The silence was a palpable entity, its presence suffocating the cramped flat. Ptolemy, Eva's curious tabby cat, wove in and out of Lucien's legs, the soft purring a stark contrast to the unease hanging between the two. Aurora's gaze drifted from Lucien's heterochromatic eyes – the amber and black orbs seeming to bore into her very soul – to the tailored charcoal suit, impeccably pressed as always. Her mind recoiled, memories of their complicated past tumbling forth like a rogue wave. She had thought she'd long since fortified herself against the turmoil Lucien Moreau embodied. Yet, here she stood, her defenses breached by a single, unexpected visit. "Lucien," she said finally, her voice firm, a touch too loud in the hushed atmosphere. "What are you doing here?" Her hand remained on the door handle, a subconscious attempt to maintain a barrier between them. Lucien's gaze never wavered, his eyes locked onto hers with an unnerving intensity. "May I come in, Rory?" The low, smooth timbre of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, a reaction she hastily suppressed. The use of her nickname, once a term of endearment, now felt like a subtle invasion. Aurora's grip on the door handle tightened, her mind racing. She could refuse him entry, slam the door shut, and pretend this encounter never happened. Yet, a morbid curiosity got the better of her. What could Lucien possibly want after all this time? With a curt nod, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter. As Lucien crossed the threshold, his eyes scanned the flat, taking in the familiar chaos of books and research notes. His gaze lingered on a few scattered photographs before returning to Aurora, who had not moved from her position by the door. "A drink, perhaps?" Lucien suggested, his long strides devouring the distance between them. He halted in front of the small kitchenette, his back to her. "I see Eva still hasn't seen fit to update her beverage selection." The sound of cupboards opening and closing filled the air, accompanied by the soft clinking of glassware. Aurora finally stirred, shutting the door and leaning against it, her eyes never leaving Lucien's back. "You didn't come here for small talk or to critique Eva's tea collection." Her voice, though even, hinted at a deeper wariness. Lucien turned, a wry smile twisting his lips as he extended a cup of steaming tea in her direction. "Always so quick to cut to the chase, Rory." His eyes sparkled with a knowing glint, the amber seeming to gleam brighter in the fading light. "I suppose that's part of your charm." Aurora pushed off from the door, her long, black hair swaying with the abrupt movement. She approached Lucien, her bright blue eyes flashing with a warning, but took the offered cup nonetheless. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, the fleeting touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. She masked the reaction by taking a deliberate sip of the scalding tea, the heat a welcome distraction. "Now, Lucien," she began, her voice firm, "state your business. You wouldn't show up unannounced without a compelling reason." Aurora retreated to the windowsill, cradling the cup in her hands, her gaze drifting toward the bustling streets of Brick Lane as the sky transitioned into a deep, foreboding blue. Lucien set his own cup down on the cluttered coffee table, his movements economical. For a moment, he stood there, framed by the soft, golden light emanating from the table lamp, his face a mask of contemplation. Then, with a fluid motion, he settled onto the couch, his eyes never leaving Aurora's profile. "I've received information regarding Evan," he said, the words dropping like a stone into the tense atmosphere. "It seems your ex has been inquiring about your... whereabouts." Aurora's gaze snapped back to Lucien, her heart sinking. The mere mention of Evan's name was enough to transport her back to a time she'd rather forget. A time when Lucien Moreau had played a significant, albeit complicated, role in her life. The small, crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist seemed to throb in solidarity, a stark reminder of the turbulent past they shared. "Why would you think I'd care?" she asked, her tone a careful blend of indifference and caution, as she raised the cup to her lips once more. The tea, now a tad cooler, served as a prop to mask her burgeoning unease. Lucien's smile, this time, was a low, enigmatic curve of his lips. "Oh, Rory. Don't play coy with me. We both know why I'm here, and it has little to do with your ex." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze burning with an intensity that made her skin prickle. "It's about unfinished business. Ours."