Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTQTEEZDQD1N8T5VGN8H32A

Aurora stepped into The Raven’s Nest, shaking rain from her black hair. Faded maps and black-and-white photographs covered the walls, each whispering stories of far-off places and times long past. The distinctive green neon sign had drawn her in like a moth to a flame, one of Soho’s many secrets waiting under London's gray sky. She spotted the familiar stoop behind the bar—Silas, still the same with his grey-streaked auburn hair and neat beard. He moved with that faint limp, his silver signet ring glinting under the dim lights. They’d become the bar’s unofficial emblem, as much a part of the place as the tracks of old jazz drifting out of hidden corners. “Rory,” Silas called, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he approached her. “Long time, Si,” she replied, returning his smile with one of her own, though her mind was far away. She slipped onto a stool as he offered her a drink. “The usual,” he teased, already reaching for a bottle of whiskey. She watched him, her fingers absent-mindedly tracing the crescent scar on her wrist, a companion from another lifetime. It was in this familiar cocoon that a voice behind her, thick with surprise and familiarity, cut through the murmured conversations. “Aurora?” She turned slowly, and there stood Eva, her childhood friend who had always been as reliable as she was unpredictable. There was a time Eva had been more sister than friend, but time has a way of weaving its own bordering tapestry. Her hair, once a cascade of wild curls, was now tamed into a sleek, straight cut. Her attire bespoke someone polished by the city’s relentless grind, but Aurora could still detect the girl who once lifted her eyes to the heavens in wonder. “Eva,” Aurora's voice held equal measures of shock and warmth. “I can't believe it’s you.” Eva's smile was a blend of nostalgia and the unsaid. “It's been forever, hasn’t it?” Stepping closer, Aurora embraced her, noting the faint whiff of a sophisticated perfume Eva never would have worn during their carefree Cardiff days. “Are you… how are you?” Aurora faltered, suddenly aware of the vault of memories they had built, now dust-laden with silence. “Busy, mostly,” Eva responded, settling onto the stool beside her. “Work, life. You know how it goes.” “Yeah, it goes,” Aurora echoed hollowly, motioning at the bartender for another glass. “This was unexpected.” “It is. You look… well.” Eva’s eyes flitted across Aurora’s face, pausing over the scar on her wrist as if trying to read the past held captive there. “Same to you. New look suits you,” Aurora nodded, trying to bridge the gap that years apart had stretched too thin. Silas retreated to the edges, as discreet as the shadows themselves, allowing the reconnection to unfold. “London’s been keeping me on my toes,” Eva confessed, fingers playing with the edge of her glass. “You never really know where you’ll end up, do you?” “I suppose not,” Aurora conceded, remembering her own escape from the life that had threatened to swallow her whole. Silence settled between them, heavy with the unspoken acknowledgment of how different things were now. Aurora swirled the amber liquid in her glass, searching it as if the answers lay within. “Do you ever… think about Cardiff?” Eva asked, breaking the pause with a question laced with undercurrents of nostalgia and doubt. “More often than I’d admit,” Aurora replied. “Days seem simpler in hindsight, don’t they? But there was always that… restlessness.” “I miss it sometimes,” Eva confessed, her eyes momentarily devoid of present gloss, saturated with echoes of childhood laughter. “The certainty of things back then.” “We were different people,” Aurora mused, eyeing the old photographs on the wall. “Or maybe we just thought we were.” “What happened to us, Rory?” Eva’s voice dropped to a whisper, a loaded question wrapped in layers of regret and longing. “Life,” Aurora said, her tone soft yet resigned. “And all the madness it entails.” Eva sighed, nodding slowly. “Remember those nights on the hill? The stars were endless then.” “Yeah. I never found a better view,” Aurora admitted, voice thick with memories both cherished and bruised. “Do you still take photographs?” Eva asked, tipping her head slightly. Aurora shook her head, a wistful smile barely forming. “Not anymore. Other things took precedence.” “I understand,” Eva murmured, understanding adding a note of sorrow to the mix. “Life keeps moving, pulling us along whether we're ready or not.” They fell silent again, the bar’s buzz continuing unperturbed around them. Aurora looked over, seeing the changes wrought by time on Eva and, by consequence, on herself. Missing her friend, Aurora only now realized what was lost in their passage through years and choices. “You remember what we used to say?” Eva asked, her voice catching as she spoke. “That whatever happens, we’d find our way back.” Aurora’s heart tightened. “I remember.” Her reply lay heavy between them, an echo of a promise half-forgotten. “Maybe… we should try to, you know?” Eva suggested, brow furrowing with vulnerability. “I mean, it was a good idea back then.” “Maybe it still is.” Aurora met Eva's gaze, a shared understanding kindling quietly beneath the surface. Silas reemerged as if sensing the completion of some emotional orbit, warmth lingering in his gaze. “Another?” Aurora considered, then shook her head. “Thanks, Si, but I should be going.” Eva followed her lead, slipping off the stool as if shaking off an old mantle. “I'm glad we had this chance, Rory. Truly.” “Me too, Eva. It was good to see you.” This exchange bore the weight of years and yet carried a lightness, understanding acknowledged and embraced. Eva fished a card from her pocket, sliding across the counter. “In case. You know.” Aurora nodded, tucking it away. “Next time, let’s not leave it to chance.” “Deal.” Eva’s smile was serene, genuine. Aurora hugged her once more, marshalling a student’s grit as she embraced how life pushed people apart and then, sometimes, drew them back. Stepping outside, the drizzle greeted her with its old, moody embrace. She paused a moment, reflecting on how the night and conversation had shifted shadows she hadn’t known she carried. Then she walked into the storm, the city damp but alive around her. London, with its entangled streets and its endless promise of anonymous familiarity, guided her deeper into its embrace.