Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY93HZR1V3R2PFRAHB3VWKR

The neon glow of the Raven’s Nest pulsed like a slow heartbeat against the damp London night, casting jagged shadows across the bar’s worn wood. Aurora Carter—Rory, to those who knew her—stood at the counter, her fingers tracing the rim of a whiskey glass. The scent of aged bourbon and something sharper, like burnt sugar and old paper, clung to the air. She hadn’t come here for the drink. She’d come for the man who used to be her best friend. Silas Blackwood leaned against the bar, his silver signet ring catching the light as he tapped it against the glass. His beard was still neat, but his eyes—hazel now, not the deep brown of their youth—held a quiet weariness. He didn’t look up first. That was fine. She’d waited long enough. “You’re here,” he said, voice rougher than she remembered. Aurora didn’t turn. “You’re here too.” A beat. The kind of pause that didn’t need filling. The kind that carried the weight of years. “Eva told me you’d be back,” Silas said, finally meeting her gaze. His left leg twitched beneath the table, a habit she’d noticed before but never let bother her. Now it felt like a reminder. “She did.” Aurora took a sip of her drink, the burn sharp and deliberate. “She said you’d be the one to tell me.” Silas exhaled through his nose, the sound low and tired. “She didn’t say much else.” The bar’s hum filled the silence. Somewhere, a piano played a slow, familiar tune—something Eva had always hated. Rory turned then, just enough to see the way the light caught the scar on her wrist, small and pale against her skin. She’d forgotten how sharp it still was. “You look different,” Silas said, not unkindly. Aurora didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The change was in the way her shoulders were straighter, the way her hair fell just so, the way her hands moved with purpose when she worked at the restaurant. She’d left Cardiff behind, left the life she’d thought she’d built. She’d come to London, to the flat above Silas’s bar, to start over. “You’re still here,” she said, voice quieter than she intended. Silas’s jaw tightened. “I’m still here.” A customer slid onto the stool beside her, his voice loud and familiar. “Rory! You look like hell.” Aurora didn’t look at him. “I know.” The man—someone she hadn’t seen in years—grinned, his fingers brushing against her arm. “You’ve got that look again. The one that says you’re about to lose your mind.” She didn’t flinch. “I’m not.” “Sure you’re not,” he said, leaning in. “You’re always about to lose your mind.” Silas’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and quiet. “Enough.” The man’s grin faltered. “What?” Silas didn’t answer. He just gestured to the empty stool beside Rory. “Sit.” She didn’t move. “Rory,” he said, softer now. “Sit.” She did. The man—Evan, she realized—stared at her for a long moment before turning to Silas. “What the hell is going on?” Silas didn’t look at him. “Nothing.” Aurora’s fingers tightened around her glass. Evan had been her first love, her first mistake. She’d left him in Cardiff, in the middle of a fight, in the middle of everything. She’d thought she’d never see him again. “You’re not here for him,” Silas said, finally breaking the silence. Aurora didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Evan’s voice dropped, low and dangerous. “You’re here for him?” She looked at him then, really looked at him for the first time in years. The man who’d broken her heart, the man who’d left her broken. The man who’d never come back. “No,” she said, quiet. “I’m here for you.” Silas’s hand found hers under the table, his grip firm. “You’re not.” Aurora pulled away. “I am.” The bar’s lights flickered, casting long shadows across the faces of the patrons. Somewhere, a door slammed. The piano stopped. Silas exhaled, slow and deep. “You’re not.” Aurora didn’t look at him. She didn’t have to. The weight of it all pressed down on her, the years, the choices, the things she’d left behind. She’d come back to London, to Silas, to the life she’d thought she’d lost. But she hadn’t come for him. She’d come for herself. “You’re not,” she said, finally turning to him. “You’re not the same person I left behind.” Silas’s eyes burned into hers. “I’m not.” The bar’s hum grew louder, louder, until it drowned out everything else. Somewhere, a door slammed. The piano started up again, slow and familiar. Aurora took a step back. “I’m not here for you.” Silas didn’t move. He didn’t speak. She turned and walked out, the door swinging shut behind her. The night air was cold, the city lights a blur of colors against the dark. She didn’t look back. Somewhere, a piano played a slow, familiar tune. Somewhere, a door slammed. Somewhere, a man’s voice called her name. She didn’t answer.