Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTRKXD1FWQ7PVDPCPSSY5XA

The Raven's Nest hummed with the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of a jazz tune playing from an old jukebox in the corner. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the walls, where old maps and black-and-white photographs hung like silent witnesses to the stories unfolding below. Aurora Carter, known to her friends as Rory, slipped through the crowd with the ease of someone who had spent countless nights navigating the bar's labyrinthine layout. Her bright blue eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. She found him at the far end of the bar, nursing a drink and staring into the middle distance. Silas Blackwood, the bar's owner and her mentor, stood behind the counter, his grey-streaked auburn hair catching the light as he moved. Rory approached, her heart skipping a beat as she recognized the man sitting at the bar. "Rory?" The voice was deeper than she remembered, but the surprise in it was unmistakable. "Evan," she replied, her voice steady despite the sudden rush of memories. "It's been a while." Evan turned to face her, his eyes widening in recognition. He looked different—older, more worn. His once-boyish features had hardened, and there was a new tension in his posture, as if he carried an invisible weight on his shoulders. "Yeah, it has," he said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You look... well." Rory nodded, unsure of what to say. The last time they'd seen each other, things had ended badly. She'd left Cardiff and the life they shared behind, seeking refuge in London and the anonymity it offered. Now, standing before him, she felt the years stretch between them like a chasm. Silas, ever perceptive, approached with a knowing look. "Can I get you two something?" he asked, his voice smooth and unhurried. "I'll have a pint," Evan said, glancing at Rory. "And whatever she's having." "Just a soda for me," Rory replied, her eyes meeting Silas's for a brief moment. He nodded, understanding the unspoken request for space, and moved away to prepare their drinks. "So," Evan began, turning back to her. "What brings you to London?" Rory hesitated, the question loaded with implications. "Work, mostly. Needed a change of scenery." "Right," Evan said, his gaze dropping to the crescent-shaped scar on her wrist. "I heard you were working at a restaurant." "Part-time," she confirmed, resisting the urge to cover the scar with her other hand. "It's not glamorous, but it pays the bills." Silas returned with their drinks, setting them down with a nod before retreating to the other end of the bar. Rory took a sip of her soda, the bubbles fizzing against her tongue. "And you?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "What have you been up to?" Evan shrugged, a shadow passing over his features. "This and that. Moved around a bit. Ended up back in Cardiff for a while, but it didn't stick." Rory nodded, sensing the unspoken stories behind his words. "It's good to see you," she said, surprising herself with the sincerity of the statement. "Yeah," Evan replied, his voice softer now. "You too." They fell into a silence, the noise of the bar filling the space between them. Rory studied him, noting the lines etched into his face, the way his hands gripped the glass as if it were a lifeline. She wondered what had brought him here, to this bar, on this night. "Do you ever think about the old days?" Evan asked suddenly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her heart skip. "Sometimes," Rory admitted, the memories flooding back. "It feels like a lifetime ago." "It does," he agreed, his voice tinged with regret. "I was a different person back then." "We both were," Rory said, the words hanging in the air like a truth neither could deny. Evan nodded, his gaze dropping to the bar. "I made a lot of mistakes," he said, his voice barely audible over the din. "I hurt you." Rory felt a pang of old hurt, the scars of their past still tender beneath the surface. "We were young," she said, choosing her words carefully. "We didn't know any better." "Still," Evan insisted, his eyes searching hers for something she couldn't quite name. "I'm sorry, Rory. For everything." She took a deep breath, the weight of his apology settling over her like a heavy cloak. "I appreciate that," she said, her voice steady. "But we've both moved on. We're different people now." "Yeah," Evan said, a hint of a smile returning to his lips. "I guess we are." They lapsed into silence again, the tension between them easing into something more comfortable. Rory felt a sense of closure, the ghosts of their past finally laid to rest. "Do you think we could be friends?" Evan asked, his tone hopeful. Rory considered the question, the possibilities it held. "I think we could try," she said, a small smile playing at her lips. Evan returned her smile, the years of distance and regret fading away. "I'd like that," he said, raising his glass in a silent toast. Rory clinked her glass against his, the sound ringing out like a promise. As they sat together, the noise of the bar fading into the background, she felt a sense of peace she hadn't known she needed. Silas watched from the other end of the bar, a satisfied smile on his lips. The Raven's Nest had seen many stories unfold within its walls, but this one felt different—like the beginning of something new.