AI In the heart of Soho, The Raven's Nest hummed with its usual evening symphony of clinking glasses and hushed conversations. The distinctive green neon sign above the entrance cast an emerald glow on the cobblestone street, beckoning patrons into its warm embrace. Aurora Carter, known to most as Rory, pushed open the heavy wooden door, a bell jingling softly overhead. She stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, taking in the familiar sight of the worn leather booths and the walls adorned with old maps and black-and-white photographs.
Rory had been coming to The Raven's Nest for years, ever since she'd fled to London, leaving behind her old life in Cardiff like a snakeskin shed. The bar was her sanctuary , a place where she could be just Rory, not Laila, not Malphora, not the girl who'd left her ex bleeding on the kitchen floor. She'd first met Silas Blackwood here, the bar's enigmatic owner, and they'd formed an unlikely friendship. He was like a mentor to her, a silent guardian who'd taken her under his wing without her even realizing it.
Tonight, however, something felt different. As she wound her way through the tables, she felt a prickle at the back of her neck, a sensation that made her pause mid-step. Then she saw him, sitting at the far end of the bar, nursing a drink. Silas. But not as she remembered him.
His hair, once a fiery auburn, was now streaked with grey, and his neatly trimmed beard matched the silver in his hair. He was still tall, broad-shouldered, but there was a weariness in his stance, a slight stoop that hadn't been there before. And his eyes... his hazel eyes, once sharp and piercing, now held a distant sadness, like a stormy sea viewed through a fogged window.
Rory hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She'd been away for a while, working a job that took her out of the country more often than not. She'd sent messages, called occasionally, but she'd never been great at keeping in touch. She'd assumed Silas understood, that he knew she was just... busy. But looking at him now, she wondered if she'd been wrong.
She took a deep breath and walked towards him, her boots clicking softly on the wooden floor. As she approached, he looked up, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
"Rory Carter," he said, his voice a low rumble, like distant thunder. "I thought that was you."
She slid onto the stool beside him, her eyes never leaving his. "Silas Blackwood," she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're looking... different."
He chuckled, a sound that held no humor. "And you're looking the same. Still as sharp as a tack, I see."
Rory felt a pang of guilt . She'd changed, of course she had. But she wasn't sure she wanted to talk about it, not yet. "What are you drinking?" she asked instead, nodding towards his glass.
"Whiskey. The good stuff," he said, raising his glass in a mock salute. "Want one?"
She shook her head. "I'm working later. Can't afford to be tipsy on the job."
Silas raised an eyebrow . "Still delivering for Yu-Fei?"
"Yep. Still the most exciting thing in my life," she said, trying to keep her tone light. But Silas wasn't fooled. He'd known her too long, seen her through too many storms.
"Rory," he said, his voice gentle yet firm . "It's been what, three years? You can't keep running from your past forever."
She stiffened, her fingers tightening around her glass of soda water. "I'm not running, Silas. I'm... I'm building a new life."
He looked at her, his gaze steady. "A life that doesn't include your family? Your friends? Me?"
Rory looked away, her eyes scanning the room, anywhere but at Silas. "I can't go back, Silas. You know that."
Silas sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know you can't change the past, Rory. But you can't keep hiding from it either. It's eating you up inside."
She turned back to him, her eyes flashing. "And what about you, Silas? You're hiding too, aren't you? Behind this bar, these maps, these... these ghosts of your past." She gestured to the walls, her hand sweeping through the air. "You're not the only one with regrets, you know."
Silas was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. Then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "You're right, Rory. We're not so different, you and I."
Rory felt a lump form in her throat. She'd missed him, more than she'd realized. She'd missed their talks, their silences, the way he understood her without her having to say a word. She reached out, placing her hand over his. His fingers were warm, rough from years of work. He turned his hand over, squeezing hers gently .
"I'm glad you're back, Rory," he said softly . "Even if it's just for a little while."
She smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Me too, Silas. Me too."
But as she looked into his eyes, she saw the unspoken words hanging between them, the regrets they both carried like heavy stones in their pockets. She knew they had a lot to talk about, a lot to make up for. But for now, it was enough to be here, together, in this little corner of the world they'd both called home at one time or another.
And so, they sat there, side by side, their fingers entwined, their eyes reflecting the soft glow of the green neon sign outside. The past was a heavy weight , a burden they both carried. But for tonight, they could forget about it, forget about the roads not taken, the paths they'd left behind. For tonight, they could just be Rory and Silas, two old friends catching up over drinks in a bar in Soho.
But as the night wore on, and the bar began to empty, Rory knew that tomorrow would come, and with it, the weight of time and unspoken regret. But for now, she could rest, she could breathe, she could be at peace. And that was enough. It had to be.