Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQT9EH5K0WF588ANNP3SMA

Rory's eyes scanned the dimly lit bar, her gaze drifting over the familiar contours of The Raven's Nest. She'd spent countless nights within these walls, sipping whiskey and swapping stories with Silas, the enigmatic owner. The air was thick with the scent of old books and stale beer, a comforting smell that wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket. As she waited for her drink, her gaze landed on a figure hunched over the bar, nursing a glass of bourbon. For a moment, Rory's mind refused to reconcile the man before her with the boy she'd grown up with. The messy, sandy-blond hair was now slicked back, revealing a face that seemed chiseled from the same granite as the Welsh mountains. The bright, mischievous eyes she remembered had dulled, like the sea on a gray day. It was as if the very spark that had defined him had been extinguished, leaving behind a stranger. Evan. Her stomach twisted into a knot as their eyes met. The name had become synonymous with pain and regret, a constant reminder of the darkest period of her life. For a moment, they simply stared, the weight of years and unspoken words hanging between them like a challenge. Evan's face, once a map of laughter lines and creases, now seemed carved from a single piece of stone. He looked older, harder, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep or too much drink. The sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes still lingered, but they were now tempered by a weariness that made him almost unrecognizable. As the silence stretched, Rory felt the familiar ache in her chest, the one she'd thought she'd long buried. It was as if the years had melted away, leaving her face-to-face with the ghost of her past. The memory of his touch, his laughter, and his lies came flooding back, threatening to consume her. Evan broke the silence, his voice low and gravelly. "Rory." The sound of her name on his lips was a spark to dry tinder. Emotions she'd thought long extinguished roared back to life, fueled by the remembered pain and the scars he'd left on her heart. She forced herself to move, her legs carrying her toward him with a will of their own. As she slid onto the stool beside him, the wooden surface creaked in protest. The sound was loud in the silence, a stark reminder of the tension between them. "What are you doing here?" Rory asked, her voice husky from disuse. Evan's gaze drifted back to his drink, his eyes clouding over like the sea on a stormy day. "Just passing through. I saw the sign, thought I'd drop in." The words were innocuous, but the tone was laced with a venom that made Rory's skin prickle. This wasn't the Evan she'd known, the one who'd charmed her with his quick wit and easy smile. This was a stranger, one who seemed to be nursing a deep-seated anger. As they sat in silence, the bartender slid a whiskey in front of Rory, his eyes flicking toward Evan before returning to her. The question was implicit: did she want him to intervene? Rory shook her head, almost imperceptibly. This was her demon to face, not Silas'. The minutes ticked by, the silence between them thickening into a palpable thing. It was as if the past and present were colliding, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved regret crushing the air from her lungs. As she raised her glass, her gaze met Evan's. For an instant, she saw a flicker of the boy she'd loved, the one who'd left her shattered and broken. The moment passed, leaving behind only the stranger, his eyes narrowed into slits. The whiskey burned its way down her throat, a welcome distraction from the turmoil brewing inside her. She set the glass back on the bar, the sound echoing through the silence. "Evan, what do you want?" The words hung in the air, a challenge and a question. The tension between them seemed to vibrate, a live thing that threatened to consume them both. As the silence stretched, Rory felt the weight of time bearing down on her, the accumulated years of regret and sorrow pressing against her chest. She knew that this was a reckoning, one that would force her to confront the ghosts of her past and the stranger beside her. The question was, was she ready?