Run: 2026-02-19-01KHTYNP3NKB53WDY7VFSWFM2K

The Raven's Nest smelled of stale beer and decades-old wood polish. Rory shouldered through the door at half-past ten, still wearing the thermal bag straps that had left grooves across her shoulders. One more shift done. One more day survived. The green neon above the entrance flickered behind her as she stepped into the familiar gloom. She stopped two steps inside. Eva sat at the far end of the bar, her blonde hair swept into a twist that probably cost more than Rory made in a week. Designer coat draped over the stool beside her. Manicured fingers wrapped around a glass of something amber that caught the low light. Their eyes met. Rory's stomach dropped through the floor. "Christ," Eva breathed. Silas glanced up from polishing a tumbler, his hazel eyes moving between them with the careful assessment of a man who'd spent thirty years reading rooms. He set the glass down without a word and disappeared through the doorway behind the bar. "Eva." Rory's voice came out flat. She moved toward the bar because standing by the door felt worse than sitting. "What are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same thing." Eva's accent had changed, the edges smoothed away. Private school polish layered over their shared Cardiff roots. "I thought you were still at university. Finishing your degree." "That was four years ago." "Four years." Eva took a slow sip. "You never called." Rory slid onto a stool three down from her. The photos on the walls watched them. Prague, Budapest, Belfast. Silas had a thing for cities with scars. "You knew where I was." "Did I?" Eva turned fully now. Her face had changed too. Sharper. The softness around her eyes gone, replaced by something harder. "You vanished, Rory. One day you're in Cardiff, the next your phone's disconnected and your flat's empty." "You told me to come to London." "I said you could crash on my sofa for a few days. Get away from that wanker." Eva's perfectly applied lipstick pressed into a thin line. "Not disappear into thin air for four bloody years." The door to the back opened. Silas emerged with a bottle of whiskey, the good stuff he kept hidden, and poured two fingers into a glass. Slid it across the bar to Rory without asking. She wrapped her hands around it. "I needed space." "Space." Eva laughed, but nothing in it sounded amused. "Is that what we're calling it?" "What would you call it?" "Running away." The whiskey burned going down. Rory set the glass on the scarred wood. "You got married." Eva's hand moved instinctively to her left ring finger, then away. The gesture quick enough to mean something. "How did you—" "Your mum mentioned it. Ran into her at Tesco two years back." "You spoke to my mother?" "She spoke at me. Showed me pictures on her phone. Big wedding. Castell Coch. Very posh." Eva's jaw tightened. "Matthew's family wanted traditional." "Matthew." Rory picked up the glass again, swirled the amber liquid. "Investment banker?" "Solicitor. Corporate law." "Of course he is." "What's that supposed to mean?" "Nothing. Just sounds exactly like the sort of bloke you'd marry." Eva's chair scraped against the floor as she swiveled to face her fully. "You don't get to do that. You don't get to disappear for four years and then sit here making judgments about my life." "I'm not—" "Yes, you are." Eva's voice cracked around the edges. "You're sitting there in your delivery uniform, looking at me like I'm some sort of sellout because I didn't burn my entire life down." Rory studied the maps on the walls. Budapest looked particularly detailed. "How's the campaign work going?" Eva went very still. "I left the charity." "When?" "Does it matter?" "You were going to change the world. Housing rights. That was your whole thing." "People grow up, Rory. They get real jobs. Mortgages. Responsibilities." "Right. Responsibilities." Rory finished the whiskey. "Like matching sofas and dinner parties in Richmond." "Putney, actually." Eva's voice had gone cold. "And you'd know all about my life if you'd bothered to answer any of my messages. The fifty-odd texts I sent before I finally gave up." "I didn't have anything to say." "Bollocks. You didn't want to face me." The words hung between them, sharp and true. Silas moved past them, collecting empties from the nearby tables. His limp more pronounced than usual. The silver signet ring on his right hand caught the light as he worked. Giving them space but close enough to intervene if needed. "What happened to you?" Eva's voice had gone quiet. "Where's the girl who stood on the union steps yelling about tuition fees? Who dragged me to protests every other weekend?" "She's delivering lo mein in Soho and living above a bar." "That's not an answer." "It's the only one I've got." Eva pulled her coat off the adjacent stool, laid it across her lap. The fabric probably cost what Rory made in a month. "I came here looking for Silas, actually. My firm's handling a property dispute. His name came up in the title search for this building." "Small world." "Tiny." Eva smoothed invisible wrinkles from her coat. "I didn't expect to find you here." "Story of my life." "Don't." Eva looked at her properly then, really looked. Her eyes catalogued everything. The thermal bag straps' indentations. The cheap trainers. The small crescent scar on Rory's left wrist that she used to trace with her thumb when they'd sit up talking until dawn. "Don't do the flippant thing. I'm not some stranger you need to perform for." "Aren't you though?" The words landed between them like shattered glass. Eva stood. Gathered her coat. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, every gesture controlled. "I should go. Matthew's expecting me." Rory nodded. Pushed her empty glass across the bar. "You know what's funny?" Eva paused at the door, one hand on the frame. The green neon behind her turned her blonde hair strange colors. "I used to wonder what I'd say if I ever saw you again. Rehearsed whole conversations in my head." She turned back, and her eyes were bright in the dim light. "Turns out I don't have anything to say either." The door closed behind her with a soft click. Silas reappeared, refilled Rory's glass without comment. His hazel eyes carried something that might have been sympathy. "Don't." "Wasn't going to say a word." He went back to polishing glasses. "Old friend?" "Something like that." "Looked like more than something." Rory stared at the photographs on the walls. All those wounded cities, frozen in black and white. "Yeah. It was."