Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR0BHCDPHKHQDR0R7H984B

Aurora nursed her whiskey, watching the amber liquid catch the dim light of The Raven's Nest. Friday night, and the bar hummed with the usual crowd – city professionals unwinding after a long week, locals seeking refuge from London's persistent drizzle, and the occasional tourist who'd stumbled upon this hidden gem in Soho by happy accident. Three months since she'd fled Cardiff, and this place had become her sanctuary. The thought of Evan still sent a cold shiver down her spine – his messages, his "apologies," his threats. She took another sip, letting the liquor burn away the memory. "Penny for your thoughts?" Silas appeared behind the bar, cloth in hand, polishing an already gleaming glass. The silver signet ring on his right hand caught the light as he moved. "Just the usual demons." She smiled thinly. "Nothing worth a penny." Silas nodded, understanding in his hazel eyes. He leaned slightly against the bar, taking weight off his left leg – the old Prague injury acting up again with the damp weather. "Sometimes naming the demons robs them of power." His voice carried the weight of experience. "But I won't pry." The door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air and the sound of rain. Aurora didn't look up, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger, until— "Rory? Aurora Carter?" The voice froze her mid-motion. Familiar, yet altered somehow – deeper, more confident than she remembered. She turned slowly, disbelief washing over her. "Marcus?" He stood just inside the entrance, rain glistening on his expensive wool coat. Marcus Whitley – her university debate partner, once her closest friend, now practically a stranger. Five years since they'd last spoken. "My God, it is you." His face broke into a wide smile as he approached, arms opening for an embrace. Aurora stood, accepting the hug stiffly, catching Silas's watchful gaze over Marcus's shoulder. "What are you doing here?" She pulled back, studying him. Gone was the disheveled philosophy student with radical ideas and perpetually stained t-shirts. This Marcus was polished, tailored, with a haircut that probably cost more than her weekly rent. "Client meeting nearby. I remembered this place from that article in The Guardian last year." He gestured vaguely around the bar. "Never imagined I'd find you here, though. Small world, eh?" "The smallest." She gestured to the stool beside hers. "Join me?" Marcus slid onto the seat, ordering a scotch from Silas, who introduced himself with a firm handshake and searching look before moving away to give them space. "So." Marcus turned to her, appraising her with those familiar brown eyes. "Delivery girl for a Chinese restaurant. Not exactly where I pictured Aurora Carter ending up." Heat rose to her cheeks. Of course he'd spotted her jacket with the Golden Empress logo draped over her chair. "It pays the rent while I figure things out." "And what happened to law school? Last I heard, you were following Daddy's footsteps into the illustrious world of barristers." Aurora's finger traced the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist – a nervous habit. "I finished the degree. Never took the bar exam." "What a waste." The words weren't malicious, but they stung all the same. "And you? Still planning to dismantle capitalism from within?" Marcus laughed, the sound polished like the rest of him. "God, we were naive back then. No, I'm with Harrington & Webb now. Corporate law." "The very firm you once called, and I quote, 'soulless vampires feeding on the blood of the working class.'" She took a sip of her whiskey, watching him over the rim. "People change, Rory." He loosened his tie slightly. "Some of us grow up." The unspoken accusation hung between them. "So I see." She nodded at his platinum wedding band. "Married too." "Three years now. Charlotte. She's in finance. We have a place in Kensington." "Children?" "Not yet. Career first, you know how it is. Or..." He trailed off, perhaps remembering that she might not, in fact, know how it was. "I'm happy for you," she said, meaning it despite the strange hollowness in her chest. Silas delivered Marcus's scotch, then limped back to the other end of the bar, though Aurora noticed he remained within earshot. "What about you? Anyone special?" Marcus swirled his drink, not quite meeting her eyes. The image of Evan flashed through her mind – his smile, his rage, the sound of breaking glass. "Not anymore." Something in her tone made Marcus look up sharply. "I heard you left Cardiff rather suddenly." "News travels." "We still have mutual friends." He paused. "Was it because of me? What happened at graduation?" Aurora laughed, a short, harsh sound. "Not everything is about you, Marcus." "Then what? Because one day you were there, and the next you'd blocked everyone and disappeared." "I needed a fresh start." "From what?" "From people asking too many questions." She drained her glass. Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken words. "We were good friends once," Marcus said finally, softer now. "Best friends." "Once." "What happened to us, Rory?" She studied him – the designer watch, the manicured nails, the careful distance in his eyes despite his intimate questions. "You happened. I happened. Life happened." "That's cryptic." "It's honest." She signaled to Silas for another drink. "You made your choices, I made mine." "My choices weren't wrong just because they were different from what we planned at twenty." "I never said they were wrong. Just different." Her voice softened. "You fit your life like a tailored suit, Marcus. It suits you." "But you don't approve." "It's not about approval." "Then what is it about? Because I feel like you're judging me for having a successful career and a stable life." Aurora laughed, genuine this time. "Is that what you think this is? Me judging your success?" "Isn't it?" "No, Marcus. It's about the fact that you haven't once asked why I left Cardiff. Why I'm working delivery instead of law. Why I live above a bar in Soho instead of practicing in chambers." She accepted the fresh whiskey Silas silently placed before her. "It's about you assuming I'm judging you, when really, you're the one measuring me against your standards and finding me wanting." Marcus flinched. "That's not fair." "Isn't it? Five minutes in, and you called my life choices a 'waste.'" He had the grace to look embarrassed. "I didn't mean—" "Yes, you did." She sighed, running a hand through her straight black hair. "We were friends because we saw the world the same way once. Now we don't. That's all." "Is there no middle ground? No way to bridge that gap?" Aurora's bright blue eyes met his. "I don't know. Is there? Because from where I'm sitting, you've become everything we once despised, and you're proud of it." "And you're running from something, hiding in a bar, delivering takeout instead of using your degree." His words weren't cruel, just concerned, which somehow made them worse. "Yes." She nodded slowly. "I am." The admission hung between them, unexpected in its honesty. "Why?" he asked, gentler now. Aurora touched her scar again. "Because I learned the hard way that some battles can't be won through debate and clever arguments. That sometimes the right answer is just to walk away." "From what, Rory? What happened?" She hesitated, then turned her wrist slightly, revealing the crescent scar in the bar's dim light. "Not all scars are from childhood accidents." Understanding dawned slowly on Marcus's face, followed by horror. "Someone hurt you." "Someone I trusted." He reached for her hand, but stopped short, unsure if the gesture would be welcome. "I'm sorry." "Not your fault." "I should have stayed in touch. After what happened between us—" "That was five years ago. Ancient history." "Not to me." He looked down at his expensive shoes. "I think about it sometimes. What I said to you. How we left things." "We were kids playing at being adults." "We were friends who let politics and ambition come between us." Aurora's smile was sad. "And look at us now. You became what you swore you'd fight. I'm running from the battles I promised I'd win." "We were both wrong about a lot of things." "And right about others." She met his gaze. "I don't regret standing by what I believed, even if the world's more complicated than I thought." "Neither do I." Silence fell again, but different now – reflective rather than tense. "Do you ever wonder," Marcus asked finally, "what would have happened if we'd stayed friends? If we hadn't let that fight end everything?" "Sometimes." She looked toward Silas, who was watching them with quiet consideration. "But I think we both needed to find our own paths." "Even if those paths led us here? Me to everything we once mocked, you to hiding from your life?" "I'm not hiding. I'm healing. There's a difference." Marcus nodded slowly. "I think I understand that now."