AI The green neon sign of The Raven's Nest buzzed against the damp evening air as Aurora pushed open the heavy wooden door. The familiar scent of aged wood, mixed with the traces of whiskey and faintly bitter hops, welcomed her like an old friend. Conversations hummed in low tones, broken occasionally by the clink of glasses and bursts of raucous laughter. She navigated through the scattered tables, the old maps and black-and-white photographs on the walls absorbing the glow from dim sconces.
Rory's keen eyes searched the room. Silas stood behind the bar, polishing a glass with practiced ease . His hazel eyes met hers, and he offered a subtle nod of acknowledgment, his hand brushing the silver signet ring he always wore. She returned a slight smile, feeling the security and familiarity of this place seep into her bones.
Tucking a strand of straight black hair behind her ear, she moved towards an empty table in the corner. The dim light caught the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist. As she pulled out a chair and sat down, memories of late-night conversations and hushed secrets shared in this very spot flooded back.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the creak of the door. The chattering noise softened for a moment as a figure entered. Rory glanced up and felt her breath catch in her throat. It was like seeing a ghost. The person who had just stepped in had the same striking features—sharp angles softened by time, tall and lean—but something fundamental had shifted.
The man’s hair, once raven-black, now had streaks of silver. Lines etched around eyes that had seen too much, yet still glimmered with the same vibrant curiosity she remembered. His gaze swept the room, momentarily indifferent, until it landed on her. Recognition dawned, followed by a mixture of surprise and something unreadable .
"Evan," Aurora breathed, her voice barely audible over the hum of the room.
"Rory," his reply was soft, almost a whisper . He strode towards her, moving with a grace that belied years of harsh experience.
He took the chair opposite her, and for a moment, both remained in a heavy silence , two souls caught between the past and present.
"So, you've found your way here," he said, breaking the silence , his gaze pinpointed on her face as if trying to read every thought .
"It’s a small world," she replied, gripping the edge of the table. "A lot’s changed."
He nodded, eyes flicking to the scar on her wrist before meeting her gaze again. "It has."
Silas made his way over, holding a tumbler of whiskey in each hand. He placed them on the table without a word, though his eyes lingered on Evan for a moment longer than usual. Evan gave him a curt nod of thanks.
"To memories," Silas finally said, raising his own glass a bit before walking away.
Evan lifted the tumbler, studying it as if it held answers. "To memories," he echoed, clinking his glass gently against Rory's.
She took a small sip, feeling the liquid warmth spread through her, a stark contrast to the chill memories that had resurfaced with Evan’s arrival. "So, what happened to you?"
He looked down, tracing the rim of the glass with his finger. "Life, I suppose. After you left, I did some soul searching, got mixed up in some dodgy business. Tried to find myself in the most unlikely of places."
"Did you?" Her bright blue eyes bore into him, searching for a semblance of the man she once knew.
"Not sure," he admitted. "Ended up in places I never thought I'd see, met people I wished I hadn't. Managed to sort some things out, burned some bridges."
"And now you're here," she mused, leaning back in her chair. "Why?"
His laughter held a note of irony. "Maybe I wanted a fresh start. Maybe I missed the familiarity... or maybe I wanted to see you."
The last part hung in the air , heavy with unspoken emotions and unhealed wounds. Rory's expression softened, her eyes reflecting years of shared history and untold stories.
"I never thought I'd see you again," she said, her voice barely above a whisper .
"Neither did I," he admitted, staring into his drink. "But here we are. So much for plans."
They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, memories of Cardiff mingling with the present reality. Rory’s hand absentmindedly touched the scar on her wrist, a physical reminder of a past they shared.
"What have you been up to?" Evan asked, breaking the silence .
"Working part-time for Yu-Fei Cheung's restaurant," she replied. "Living in a flat above Silas' bar. Life's simpler now, in some ways. More complicated in others."
"Still the same Rory," he remarked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips .
She shook her head. "Not quite. I've had to adapt, learn to fend for myself. And you — the changes are evident."
His eyes met hers, a flash of regret passing through. "I never wanted it to end the way it did."
"Neither did I," she confessed. "But what's done is done. We can't change the past."
"No, we can’t," Evan agreed. "We can only try to make sense of it."
Silas reappeared, collecting empty glasses from another table. He glanced at them, reading the tension , the unspoken words. "Everything alright here?" His tone was casual, but the concern was clear.
Rory nodded, managing a small smile. "Just catching up with an old friend."
Silas gave a terse nod, his eyes lingering on Evan once more before he moved away. The weight of the past continued to press down on them. The room seemed to close in, making their world smaller, more intimate.
"So, where do we go from here?" Evan's question was direct, probing.
She sighed, feeling the pull of nostalgia and the pain it carried. "We could try being friends again. Start fresh. Or maybe... we move on, separately this time."
He looked out into the bar, eyes distant. "When you left, it was a wake-up call. I never truly apologized for everything."
Rory's eyes softened, the distant trace of old wounds reappearing and then retreating. "I think we both needed to escape. Heal in our own ways."
Evan's hand reached across the table, stopping just short of touching hers. "I still care about you, Rory. But I know I can't undo the past."
She placed her hand next to his, close but not touching. "Caring isn't enough sometimes. Maybe we were meant to cross paths again, to find closure, not revival."
They held each other’s gaze, the silence speaking volumes. The weight of time and unspoken regret hung heavy, but there was also a glimmer of understanding, a shared acknowledgement of the past, and an acceptance of the present.
Evan stood up slowly , a sense of finality in his movements. "Take care, Rory. I hope you find what you're looking for."
"You too, Evan," she replied, eyes steady . "Maybe one day, we'll meet again under better circumstances."
He turned and walked towards the door. As it swung shut behind him, she released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding . Silas approached, concern in his eyes.
"You alright?" he asked, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.
She nodded, standing up and feeling the presence of Evan still lingering in the air. "I think I will be."
Silas gave a slight, understanding nod. "Welcome to move on. The past doesn't need to define you."
Rory glanced around The Raven's Nest, feeling a sense of resolve settling over her. The weight of time and regret still hung in the air , but there was also a newfound determination to move forward.
"Yeah," she agreed. "The beginning of something new."
Silas smiled, leading her towards the bar. "Let's start with a drink."
The dimly lit room continued its hum of conversations and laughter, life moving forward, each step a little lighter than the last. Rory felt the past slowly releasing its grip, leaving her with the hope of new beginnings.