Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTXD8DBE1BJS8ACHS7JN27J

The green neon sign of The Raven's Nest cast an eerie glow across the wet pavement. Aurora Carter pulled her jacket tighter against the London drizzle, the weight of the delivery bag still heavy on her shoulder even after her shift had ended. She needed a drink, or maybe just the familiar comfort of Silas' quiet presence. The door creaked open, releasing a wave of warmth and the low murmur of conversation into the night. Rory stepped inside, shaking rain from her black hair. The bar was half-full, a typical Tuesday crowd. Maps and black-and-white photographs covered the walls, watching over the patrons like silent guardians. Silas stood behind the polished mahogany bar, drying a glass with methodical precision. His grey-streaked auburn hair caught the low light as he looked up, a hint of recognition in his hazel eyes. "You're late tonight." "Delivery to Camden took forever. Traffic's a nightmare." Rory slid onto a stool, setting the delivery bag on the floor. "Usual?" Silas nodded, reaching for a bottle. The silver signet ring on his right hand glinted as he poured. "Eva called earlier. Looking for you." "Everything alright?" "Fine, I think. Just wanted to catch up." He pushed the glass toward her. "You look tired, Aurora." Rory took a sip, the whiskey burning a familiar path down her throat. "Long day. That's all." She traced the crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist with her thumb. "Any interesting characters come through today?" "The usual suspects." Silas leaned against the back counter, his slight limp barely noticeable as he shifted his weight. "Though someone was asking about you earlier." Rory straightened. "Who?" "Didn't give his name. Said he was an old friend." Silas paused. "Said you knew him from university." The bar door opened again, letting in a rush of cold air and laughter. Rory turned, her glass halfway to her lips. A group of three people entered, shaking off rain and talking loudly. And then she saw him. Time stopped. Evan. Her ex stood near the entrance, shaking water from his expensive coat. He looked different—older, certainly, but there was something else. A confidence that hadn't been there before, a success that showed in his tailored suit and the way he carried himself. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on Rory, widened in recognition. "Aurora? Is that really you?" The voice was the same, yet different. Calmer. Measured. No trace of the anger that had once haunted it. Rory's fingers tightened around her glass. Her mind raced, calculating exits, scenarios. Silas moved subtly closer to the phone beneath the counter, his protective instincts kicking in. "Evan." Her voice came out steadier than she expected. "What are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same." He approached the bar, not taking a seat but standing a few feet away. Respectful distance. "Silas, right? Mind if I join?" Silas nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Rory's face. "The bar's open to anyone who can pay." Evan signaled to Silas for a drink before turning back to Rory. "You look good, Aurora. Really good." The compliment hung in the air between them, loaded with memories neither dared to voice. Three years. Three years since she'd fled Cardiff, since Eva had helped her disappear into London's sprawling anonymity. "You've changed," Rory said finally. "We all have." Evan accepted his drink from Silas, his movements precise. "I heard about your father. I'm sorry." Rory flinched. The mention of her father's death last year still caught her off guard. "How would you know about that?" "I keep tabs. On people who mattered." Evan swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "I wanted to reach out when it happened, but I figured... well, I figured you wouldn't want to hear from me." "You figured right." "Fair enough." Evan took a sip. "I'm in London for business. Consulting now. Security systems. Funny, isn't it? The boy who couldn't control his temper now teaches others how to protect themselves." Rory studied him, searching for traces of the man who had once thrown a vase against the wall because she'd come home ten minutes late. The man who had blamed her for his failures, who had made her feel small and insignificant until she'd barely recognized herself. "Why are you really here, Evan?" The question hung between them, sharp and immediate. Evan set his glass down with deliberate care. "I saw your name on a client list. One of the restaurants you deliver for. They've upgraded their security system." "So you tracked me down." "No." He shook his head. "I came to the area hoping I might run into you. Pathetic, maybe. But I needed to see you." Silas moved quietly down the bar, giving them space but remaining within earshot. His presence was a silent reassurance. "Three years, Evan." Rory's voice was low. "Three years without a word. And now you just happen to be in the neighborhood?" "I know how it sounds." Evan ran a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar it made Rory's chest ache. "I've been getting help. Therapy. Anger management. It took me a long time to understand what I did—to you, to myself." "People don't change." "Some do." Evan met her eyes, and for the first time, Rory saw something genuine in his gaze. "Not completely, maybe. But enough. Enough to regret. Enough to want to make amends." Rory finished her drink in one swallow, the burn matching the fire in her throat. "You can't fix the past, Evan." "I know that." His voice softened. "But maybe we can build a different future. Not together—not like that. But maybe as people who can exist in the same city without fear." The weight of time pressed down on them—years of hurt, of healing, of becoming different people than they had been. The girl who had stayed too long, believing love meant fixing someone. The boy who had thought control meant strength. "I'm different now," Evan said quietly, as if reading her thoughts. "But I see you're different too. Stronger." "I had to be." Silas approached quietly, refilling Rory's glass without asking. His movements were measured, giving her space to decide. "I should go," Evan said suddenly, standing. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening." Rory looked at him—at the familiar stranger standing before her. The man who had both broken her and shaped her into who she had become. "One drink," she heard herself say. "For old times' sake. But not here." Evan nodded slowly, understanding. "There's a café around the corner. Open late." "Tomorrow," Rory specified. "Noon." A small smile touched Evan's lips. "I'll be there." He left money on the bar and walked away, leaving Rory alone with her thoughts and Silas' quiet presence. "You don't have to go tomorrow," Silas said, his voice low. "I know." Rory stared into her fresh glass. "But I think I need to." Silas nodded, his hazel eyes understanding. "People surprise you sometimes. But be careful, Aurora. The past has a way of catching up when you least expect it." Rory touched the crescent scar on her wrist, a reminder of another time, another pain she had survived. She had run once. Now she needed to face what had chased her, not because she wanted to go back, but to prove she had truly moved forward.