Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMF3JC14J4XT5FXZK7JW22Z

The door creaked open a few inches, the chain still fastened. One bright blue eye peered out from the dimness of theflat."I thought I asked you not to come here again, Luc." Rory's voice was cool, guarded, despite the slight tremor beneath. Lucien found himself in the familiar old scene: standing before her door, searching for the right words. "Aurora, please. I need to talk to you." He kept his own tone level, unembellished by longing. He wouldn't give her reason to slam the door. Inside, the tabby cat mewed, Pussy, Pussy, Pussy. The chain rattled as Rory slid it off, leaving the door cracked open. "You have two minutes, Luc." She returned to her pile of books and notes on the floor, not looking at him as he entered. "Then you leave and never show your face again. Without the benefactor, you are not welcome." Lucien stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. As always, her tiny flat enchanted him, each surface concealed by thick, dusty tomes in a dozen languages. He followed the curve of her spine to where she worked, perched on the floor, her straight black hair falling like a silken curtain. "I'm not here for the benefactor. I'm here for you," he said, settling himself against the wall. "I know I unforgivable things to you long ago. And I did it again yesterday by bringing Isolde here. That was a mistake, and I regret they it took me this long to own up to it." Rory flipped a page, her hand with the crescent scar steady against the parchment. Something flickered across her face, old pain and cold rage. "Questions, Luc? Of course you have questions. I'm dying and compromised, vulnerable, afflicted with this new power. What questions do you think you're owed? Ask them, and then leave. We're done here." She spoke to him like a stranger or a lesser being, but they both knew that she couldn't be this indifferent. Lucien closed the distance between them in a few long strides. "What we had—" he began, lower back against the bookcase cluttered with scrolls "—had nothing to do with the benefactor. Something we both could never compel. I don't care about your power. Or the beneficiary. I want to know you." This close, he caught the scent of old parchment on her skin and felt the heat of her skin through his sleeve. She glanced up then, a fleeting gaze burning with a lifetime of keen intelligence, vivid memories, and all their secrets. "You always wanted to know me, Lu. But you never respected me." "Yes," he answered, his amber and black eyes holding steady on hers. "Because I loved you." She froze, and that one word hung between them like an embers on her lips. Then she exhaled, or cursed, or something in between. "That was a long time ago. And you left me." "But I'm here now." Rory closed the book in her hand. When she spoke, her voice was clear and unflinching. "Then who was Evelyn, Luc?" His gaze never wavered from hers. "I don't know what you—" He stopped. He knew exactly what she was talking about, and he would not tell her. He couldn't tell her. Rory's head fell back, her throat moving. "Evelyn... my name... from your engagement announcement." He had forgotten. The engagement announcement. To be put in the chasing of rival leagues, to fully join the London elite. A stupid page one-and done act to maintain the charade. But now... He wanted to scream. He wanted to take Rory in his arms and to kiss every trace of this Evelyn thing away. He wanted her back in his home, in his bed. All his again, not for any unbeatable purpose but because they completed each other, because not could almost not think if all he did was count down the seconds until he could be with her again. He wanted to go back in time to fix things between them. Shove the water lever to make water flow backward and save his dumb, naive, but endearing self before it ever went south with this fucking game where he was ever nose deep in the. "You. Only ever you." His voice broke on her name. "Stop, Luc. Lie to the world. Lie to Eleanor. Lie to Evelyn, or Isolde, or any of it. But don't lie to me. Don't make this harder than it already is. I'm sorry—" "Don't apologize. I'm the one who's sorry for everything." These wall of curtains parted and there she was, tears peeking through, her messy hair hanging in her eyes. He looked into that sea blue gaze and his heart twisted again. "Aurora, I—" "I think you should leave now, Luc." Her voice was a throaty. "We're done. There's nothing left to say." The finality of her words gutted him. She was right. He had fucked this up. And it was too late to fix it now. Lucien's shoulders slumped in defeat. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, he nodded, pocketed off his shoulder, and left, closing the door behind him with a final, echoing click. Rory waited a few moments to make sure he had left before she collapsed against the door, sinking to the floor. Shallow, desperate breaths escaped her lips as memories from their time together flooded her mind. Eyes shut tightly, the past played through it like a movie. Their first date, where he had charmed her with a grin and a bouquet of midnight lilies. Their first kiss, underneath the birch tree in Regent's Park, where time seemed to stand still. The way his eyes lit up when she made him laugh, the cadence of his voice as he recited pages of poetry while twirling her around in her kitchen. Their future together.. it had always been there, even when she tried to push it away. but he broke it all. But he had to do it. Teasing disappointment and bittersweet regret. A burst of wistful air dissipated between her pursed lips as she forced herself up and stumbled to her tiny packed desk. Maybe he would never have figured it out. Would've never have seen her as she truly was. Maybe... they could've figured this out together, side by side. But that was over. Rory grabbed a crumpled letter from the corner of her desk, one she had hidden away in the cupboard. It was time to do what she'd put off for too long. She slid the envelope out, careful not to wrinkle it further, and stared at the familiar name scrawled across the front. Her heart raced as she thought about what she was about to do. So she breathed and breathed as she readied herself. Then in one swift movement, she shredded it into pieces... and smiled. It's over, Luc. It's really over. The scent of the lilies lingered in the air, sweet and intoxicating, even though the flowers were two weeks old. She didn't want to throw them away, such as it was, but throwing her heart in the bin was probably for the best. Rory took a deep, steadying breath, squared her shoulders, and let the Lilies, the memories, and the promises drift away like the petals that separated from the seasons too late.