Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTR30P6TMV5RGGN2MHVPEKG

The green neon sign of The Raven's Nest cast an ethereal glow across the wet pavement. Aurora wiped down the bar counter, her fingers catching on the worn patches where countless glasses had scraped the wood. The evening crowd had thinned to a handful of regulars nursing their drinks in corners, leaving only the soft jazz from the speakers to fill the air. The bell above the door chimed. Aurora glanced up, then froze. The glass in her hand nearly slipped from her grasp. "Just a whiskey, neat." The woman's voice carried across the bar, familiar yet different - sharper, more polished. She settled onto a barstool, her designer coat draped precisely over the back. "Eva?" Aurora's throat tightened around the name. Eva's perfectly manicured hand paused midway to her phone. She looked up, really looked, and her carefully composed expression cracked. "Rory? My God, I barely recognized you." Aurora poured the whiskey with mechanical precision, buying time to steady her hands. "It's been what - three years?" "Three years, four months." Eva's laugh held an edge. "Not that I'm counting." The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Aurora noticed the wedding ring first, then the subtle designer label on Eva's silk blouse, the careful highlights in her hair. Gone was the girl who used to share cigarettes with her on fire escapes, who wore combat boots with sundresses and dreamed of becoming a photographer. "You look..." Aurora gestured vaguely. "Corporate?" Eva's smile didn't reach her eyes. "That's what happens when you sell out to a hedge fund. The money's good, though." Aurora set down the whiskey. Their fingers brushed as Eva reached for the glass, and for a moment, the years seemed to collapse. "Still tending bar?" Eva's tone was carefully neutral. "Among other things." Aurora's hand drifted to her wrist, thumb brushing the crescent scar they both pretended not to notice. "I deliver for a Chinese restaurant too. Not exactly the law career Dad planned." "I remember." Eva took a long sip. "You were always too good for that anyway. Too wild, too real." The word 'real' hung between them like an accusation. Silas emerged from his office, his slight limp more pronounced in the evening hours. His eyebrows rose at the tension crackling across his bar, but he simply nodded at Aurora and retreated to the far end to sort through invoices. "I saw your wedding announcement," Aurora said finally. "In The Times. Thomas Whitmore III, right? Finance?" "Tom." Eva twisted her ring. "He's... stable. Dependable." "Everything Evan wasn't?" Eva's shoulders stiffened. "That's not fair, Rory. You disappeared. One phone call, one cryptic message about needing space, and then nothing. Three years of nothing." "You knew why I had to leave." Aurora's voice dropped. "You're the one who told me to go." "I told you to get away from him, not to vanish from my life." Eva's carefully constructed facade cracked further. "I looked for you. Called hospitals, mutual friends. Your parents wouldn't tell me anything." "I couldn't-" Aurora stopped, aware of the few remaining patrons. "I couldn't be that person anymore. The one who let him-" "So you became someone else entirely?" Eva drained her glass. "The Rory I knew wouldn't hide behind a bar in Soho." "The Eva I knew wouldn't be wearing Chanel and judging people for honest work." They stared at each other across the scarred wood, the weight of unspoken words pressing down like storm clouds. Eva reached for her coat. "I should go. Tom's waiting." "Of course he is." Aurora gathered the empty glass, noticed the smudge of expensive lipstick on the rim. "It was good to see you, Eva." "Was it?" Eva stood, straightening her coat with precise movements. She placed a business card on the bar. "My number. If you ever want to talk about who we used to be." Aurora watched her walk away, heels clicking against the floor, until the door closed behind her. The business card sat on the bar like a challenge, or perhaps a lifeline. She picked it up, ran her thumb over the embossed letters, then slipped it into her pocket. Silas appeared beside her, his signet ring catching the light as he poured himself a drink. "Old friends are like old wounds, Rory. Sometimes they heal clean, sometimes they leave scars." Aurora touched her wrist, feeling the raised edge of her own scar beneath her sleeve. "And sometimes they're both at once."