Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR2PXQ4N6AWMC7ZWHKP69F

The green neon sign of The Raven's Nest cast a sickly glow through the evening drizzle. Aurora pulled her jacket tighter and ducked inside, shaking droplets from her black hair. The familiar warmth and wood-smoke scent of the bar wrapped around her like a blanket. "The usual, Rory?" Silas wiped down the counter with practiced strokes, his signet ring catching the low light. "Please." She slid onto her regular stool, second from the end. "Had the oddest delivery today. Lady ordered fifteen portions of spring rolls, then tried to pay in-" "Aurora Carter?" The voice stopped her cold. She knew that voice, though it had been - what, six years? Her fingers found the crescent scar on her left wrist, tracing its familiar curve. "Evan." He'd gained weight, his once-sharp jawline softened. The carefully styled hair she remembered had thinned, and his designer clothes had been replaced by an off-the-rack suit that pulled slightly at the buttons. But his eyes were the same. Dark. Intense. "I thought that was you." He settled onto the stool next to her, uninvited. "You look... good." Silas set her gin and tonic down with more force than necessary, ice cubes clinking against glass. "Everything alright here?" "Fine," Aurora said. "We're old friends." Silas's eyes narrowed, but he moved away, keeping within earshot as he sorted through bottles. "Friends." Evan's laugh was hollow. "Is that what we were?" "What brings you to London?" Her voice came out steady, professional. The voice she used for difficult customers. "Work conference. Legal tech symposium at the Excel Centre." He gestured to his badge, still hanging around his neck. "Still in law, obviously. Made partner last year at Davies and Hughes." His eyes swept over her delivery uniform. "And you're..." "Happy." The word hung between them like smoke. Evan's fingers drummed against the bar top - the same nervous tic she remembered from their university days, when he'd pace their tiny flat rehearsing for moot court. "You disappeared." His voice dropped lower. "No goodbye, no note. Just emptied your drawers and vanished. Your father-" "Don't." The gin burned her throat. "You don't get to talk about my father." "He was worried sick. We all were." "Worried I'd tell someone about the bruises?" Behind the bar, Silas paused in his work, his shoulders tensing. Evan leaned closer. "I've changed, Rory. Anger management, therapy, the works. I'm married now. Two kids." "Congratulations." The word tasted like ash. "I've wanted to apologize for years. What I did - who I was then-" He reached for her hand. Aurora pulled back, the stool scraping against wood. "Don't." "Just let me-" "The lady said don't." Silas's voice carried the quiet authority of someone used to being obeyed. His hazel eyes fixed on Evan, one hand resting on the bar top near Aurora's drink. Evan straightened, lawyer mask sliding into place. "This is a private conversation." "Not in my bar, it isn't." Aurora stood, fishing notes from her pocket. "I should go." "Rory, please." Evan's voice cracked. "I just want to make things right." She paused, studying the man who had once been the center of her world. The boy who'd quoted Shakespeare and brought her coffee in bed. The man whose temper had turned her world to breaking glass and midnight escapes. "Some things can't be made right, Evan. They can only be lived with." She left him at the bar, the neon sign painting his reflection green in the window as she stepped back into the rain. Behind her, she heard Silas's uneven footsteps - that familiar slight drag of his left leg - as he moved to ensure Evan didn't follow. The rain washed her face clean of tears she hadn't realized she'd shed.