Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR2R7VV00TSMK8DJJ5ZK6M

Neon green light stained the wet pavement. Aurora held her cycle lock in one hand, pushed past the glass door. A bell ticked once. Inside, low light pooled over grimy maps and black-and-white photographs. Silas crouched behind the bar, polishing a tumbler. His limp made the stool groan as he straightened. One stool free by the far end. Aurora claimed it. Tea? Rory. Silas set a chipped teapot on the oak counter. Steam coiled upward. She twisted her wrist, felt the crescent scar under her sleeve. A shift in voices by the dartboard drew her eye. A woman stood alone, back to the wall. Tailored suit. Hair cropped close. The silhouette looked like someone she used to know. Aurora froze. Rory Carter? The woman turned. Silver streaks masked her dark curls. Her eyes flared. Eva. Time slid backward. Dust motes danced in the beam of light between them. You here on business? She sank onto the stool next to Aurora, fingers settling on the polished wood. I moved to Richmond. Branch office. Needed a change. Aurora traced the grain. Richmond. The same excuse she’d used once. I hear Cardiff suitcases emptied at dawn. A tremor bent Aurora’s gaze to her scar. The cliff path. You fell. I waited an hour for your call. I lost signal. By the time I got reception, you’d left. Eva’s jaw flexed. Then you vanished. Silence settled like smoke. Rain tapped the windows. Why did you leave without a word? Because I thought you’d tell me to go back. Or laugh. The corners of Eva’s mouth twitched. I didn’t laugh. I blamed you. Every promotion, every milestone—I missed your cheers. Or your sarcasm. Either would’ve made me feel less alone. Bar chatter faded. Silas poured another round behind them. On the house. Rory. She exhaled, cupped the mug. Warmth spread across her palms. I wrote you once. Eva’s shoulders hunched. A letter. No return address. Your handwriting, though. Aurora’s chest stung. I burned it. I couldn’t face you. Eva snapped her chin up. You burned it? Because I wasn’t sure what to do with hope. A match struck somewhere at the back. A lone cigarette sparked to life. Smoke curled along the ceiling. I spent years replaying that silence. Asking why. Wondering if you even cared. Aurora studied the maps on the wall. Pins speckled London, Cardiff barely visible in the corner. I was scared. Scared you’d moved on. That your world didn’t need me. Eva’s fingers tapped the coaster. Maybe it didn’t. Pain flickered in her eyes. Aurora leaned forward, voice low. I missed you. Every street I delivered to, I saw your face in the crowd. Eva’s throat bobbed. I envied you. The courage to run, to vanish. Their elbows nearly touched. Words trembled on the edge of forgiveness. Silas cleared his throat. He padded toward the back, the bar’s neon glow reflecting off his signet ring. They sat for a long moment. Rain carved channels down the windowpanes. I’d like a second chance. Eva shook her head once, slowly. So would I. A crooked smile cracked across Aurora’s face. Then let’s start now. Eva pressed her palm to the wood, where Aurora’s mug had left a ring. Tomorrow, same time? As one, they stood. Aurora slung her jacket over her arm. Eva tucked a loose curl behind her ear. Tomorrow. Outside, the rain had eased into a mist. Neon streaked their coats. Side by side they walked into the night, unspoken regrets trailing behind them like fading footprints.