Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTYK99J7NK3Q9XF34XN39BS

The Raven’s Nest hummed with the low murmur of late-night patrons, the green neon sign casting an eerie glow through the foggy London street. Aurora Carter wiped the sweat from her brow as she leaned against the bar, her delivery bag slung over one shoulder. The air smelled of whisky and damp wood, the kind of smell that clung to your clothes long after you’d left. Silas Blackwood polished a glass behind the counter, his movements deliberate and slow. His hazel eyes flicked to her, a silent acknowledgment. Aurora nodded back, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar faces—tourists, locals, and the occasional shadowy figure who lingered too long in the corners. Then she froze. At a table near the back, partially obscured by the dim light and a curtain of smoke, sat a man she hadn’t seen in years. His hair was shorter now, darker than she remembered, and there was a hardness in his jaw that hadn’t been there before. But it was him. Evan. Her stomach twisted. She hadn’t thought of him in months, hadn’t let herself. But there he was, sitting in Silas’ bar like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t shattered her world the last time they’d spoken. Evan looked up, his eyes meeting hers across the room. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then he raised his glass, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Aurora clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She turned to Silas, her voice low. “Did you know he’d be here?” Silas didn’t look up from the glass he was polishing. “Didn’t know, didn’t ask. He’s just another customer.” “Bullshit.” Silas sighed, finally setting the glass down. “Rory, it’s been years. Maybe it’s time you—” “Don’t,” she snapped, cutting him off. She grabbed her bag and started for the door, but Evan was already on his feet, weaving through the tables toward her. “Rory,” he called, his voice cutting through the noise of the bar. She stopped, her hand gripping the door handle. “It’s been a long time.” She turned, her bright blue eyes narrowing. “Not long enough.” Evan winced, but he didn’t back down. “Can we talk? Just for a minute.” Aurora glanced around the room, her jaw tight. Every instinct told her to leave, to walk out the door and never look back. But something in his voice—something she couldn’t quite name—made her hesitate. “Fine,” she bit out. “One minute.” He gestured toward the table he’d been sitting at, and she followed reluctantly, her bag still slung over her shoulder. The table was small, their knees almost touching as they sat. Evan leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning her face like he was trying to memorize it. “You look good,” he said finally. Aurora snorted. “Cut the crap, Evan. What do you want?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I wanted to see you. To say I’m sorry.” Her chest tightened, but she kept her expression neutral. “You’re sorry? That’s it?” “It’s not that simple.” “It never is with you.” Evan looked down at the table, his fingers tracing the grain of the wood. “I’ve changed, Rory. I’m not the same person I was back then.” She leaned forward, her voice low and sharp. “You think that makes it better? You think saying you’ve changed erases everything you did?” He met her gaze, his eyes dark and intense. “No. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just wanted you to know that I’m trying. I’ve been sober for two years. I’ve got a job, a place to live. I’m… trying.” Aurora clenched her fists under the table, the small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist burning like a brand. “Good for you,” she said coldly. “But that doesn’t change what happened.” “I know,” he said quietly. “But I’ve thought about you every day since I left. I thought maybe… maybe I could make things right.” She laughed bitterly. “Make things right? You can’t just waltz back into my life and pretend everything’s okay.” “I’m not pretending,” he said, his voice firm. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I’m here now, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix what I broke.” Aurora stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to scream, to lash out and tell him he could never fix what he’d done. But the look in his eyes—the raw, desperate hope—stopped her. “You can’t fix it,” she said finally, her voice breaking. “You can’t just undo the past.” Evan reached across the table, his hand hovering over hers. “Maybe not,” he said softly. “But we can move forward. Together.” She pulled her hand back, shaking her head. “I can’t, Evan. I’m not ready for that.” He nodded, his shoulders slumping. “I understand. But if you ever change your mind… I’ll be here.” Aurora stood, her chair scraping against the floor. “Don’t wait for me,” she said, her voice cold. She turned and walked out the door, the cold night air hitting her like a slap. She leaned against the brick wall, her breath coming in short gasps. The weight of his words, of everything they’d left unspoken, pressed down on her chest. Inside the bar, Evan stared at the empty seat across from him, his fist clenched on the table. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t follow her. Instead, he picked up his glass and drained it in one swallow, the taste bitter on his tongue. Silas watched from behind the bar, his hazel eyes narrowed. He didn’t say a word, but his grip tightened on the glass he was holding. The tension in the room was palpable, the unspoken history between the two hanging heavy in the air. Outside, Aurora walked down the foggy street, her shoulders stiff and her heart aching. The neon sign of The Raven’s Nest faded into the distance, a green haze swallowed by the night. She didn’t look back.