Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD4ZYY37EF3FAK95270KVED

The rain hit Soho in sheets. Green light from above Silas' bar bled across the wet pavement and caught in puddles. THE RAVEN'S NEST buzzed and stuttered in neon. Rory stood under it with her helmet tucked against her hip and water running off the shoulders of her jacket. Her shift at the Golden Empress finished twenty minutes past. Her hair stuck to her forehead in black lines. She pushed the door. Inside smelled of old wood polish and spilled ale and lemon cleaner. The maps on the wall sweated in the heat. A low murmur filled the room. Silas stood behind the bar, his sleeves rolled to the elbow, his silver signet catching light as he poured. He looked up. He nodded at her. She nodded back. She hung her helmet on the peg by the bookshelf that wasn't a bookshelf and went to her usual stool at the far end. The one with the wobble. The door opened again behind her and let in a gust of cold air and traffic noise. Rory did not turn. Then someone laughed. The laugh hit her spine before her brain placed it. "No fucking way." Rory turned. A woman stood just inside the doorway, shaking rain from a camel wool coat. Blonde. Cut sharp at the jaw. Red lipstick perfect despite the weather. She stared at Rory and her mouth opened. "Rory? Aurora Carter?" Rory's hand tightened on the bar. "Megan Parry." Megan crossed the room in three strides. Coat still dripping. She grabbed Rory's shoulders. Her hands were cold. "Look at you. Look at — Christ. It is you." Megan pulled her into a hug that smelled of expensive perfume and rain. Rory let her. Over Megan's shoulder she saw Silas watching. His hazel eyes narrowed a fraction. Megan stepped back and held Rory at arm's length. "You cut your hair." "You bleached yours." Megan laughed again and the sound filled too much space. "I did. God. How long? Five years? Six?" "Seven." "Seven years. Since graduation. You vanished." Megan slid onto the stool next to Rory's without asking. Her coat left a dark smear on the leather. Silas set a glass of water in front of Rory without a word. He looked at Megan. "What do you drink?" "White wine. Dry. Whatever you have that's decent." Silas' mouth twitched. He poured. Rory wiped rain from her forehead. The small crescent-shaped scar on her left wrist showed white against her damp skin. "You look—" Megan started. "You look different." "I know." Megan touched her own cheekbone, her throat, a gesture that showed a diamond bracelet. "I live in Chelsea now. Proper adult life. Do you remember Mrs Hughes said I'd end up working the till at Tesco?" "I remember." "I work in PR now. For a gallery in Mayfair. I have clients. Real clients. I just got back from Basel." She said it like a challenge. Rory picked up her water. "That's great." Megan leaned in. Her eyes dropped to Rory's jacket, the faded jeans, the scuffed trainers by the footrest. "Are you still— Do you still live up— I heard you moved to London. Mum told me. She saw your mum at St David's." "I live upstairs." Megan followed her glance up at the cracked ceiling. "Upstairs? Here? Above the bar?" "Yeah." "Oh." Silence settled for a beat too long. The radiator hissed. Megan sipped her wine and made a face and sipped again anyway. "Do you remember Year Eleven? The languages trip to Paris. You and me and Chloe. We bought those terrible matching bracelets off a man by the Seine and you lost yours in the canal on the second day." "I didn't lose it. Chloe threw it in." "She did! She threw it in because you kissed Ben Thomas." "I didn't kiss Ben Thomas. You kissed Ben Thomas." Megan's laugh cracked in the middle. "Did I? Fuck. I did. Poor Ben." She stared into her glass. The neon from outside threw green across her blonde hair. "I thought we'd both get out. You know. Properly out. Not just —" She gestured at the window, at the street beyond. "Cardiff was too small. You said that." "I said a lot of things when I was eighteen." "You said you were going to be a barrister. Like your dad. You said you'd own a flat in the Inner Temple and wear those stupid wigs." Rory's jaw worked. "I changed my mind." Megan's hand found Rory's wrist before Rory could pull away. Her thumb brushed the crescent scar. "You still have this. From the Davies' fence. You dared me to climb it." "You dared me." "You fell. You bled everywhere. Mrs Carter went mental." Rory pulled her hand back and tucked it under her thigh. "It was a long time ago." "I tried to find you. On Instagram. You deleted everything." "I know." "I thought— We were best friends, Ror. You were at my house more than yours. Then you just stopped answering. For months. Then your number dead-ended." Rory looked at the row of bottles behind the bar. Her throat tightened. "I left." "Yeah. People told me. Something about your boyfriend? Evan?" Silas placed another water down harder than necessary. Water slopped. Megan jumped. Rory stared at her. "What do you want me to say, Meg?" Megan opened her mouth. Closed it. "I don't know. I thought you'd be happy to see me." "I am happy to see you." "Are you? You look like you want me to leave." Megan's voice rose. A couple at a table near the maps glanced over. Rory exhaled through her nose. She forced her hands flat on the bar. "No. I just — It's been a long day. I did thirty drops in the rain. Yu-Fei's short-staffed." "Yu-Fei?" "My boss." "You deliver food?" "Part time." Megan stared. "Rory, you were top of our class. You were going to read Law at Cardiff. You were—" "I'm aware of what I was." The words snapped. Megan flinched. She stared at the wine as if trying to read something at the bottom of the glass. "I missed you." Rory's shoulders dropped. "I missed you, too." Megan reached again, slower this time. "You never called." "You never came." "I didn't know where to come." "I was in Cardiff until I wasn't." Megan's eyes shone. Red leaked a little at the edge of her lipstick. "My dad died last year. Did you know? Heart attack. January." Rory's head came up. "No." "Yeah. It was quick. The funeral — I kept looking at the door. Stupid." Rory reached out. Her fingers hovered over Megan's forearm and then landed. "I'm sorry." Megan covered Rory's hand with her own. Her diamond bracelet clicked against the bar. "I kept his old Polaroid camera. Remember how he used to take pictures of us in the garden? Even when we told him to piss off?" "I remember." "His pictures are shit. All overexposed. But I kept it." The door opened again. Two men entered, loud, drunk. Silas intercepted them with a look and a slight shift of his weight on his left leg and steered them to a table far from the bar. Rory watched him and felt the tightness in her chest ease a millimetre. Megan sniffed and wiped under her eyes with a knuckle, careful of mascara. "So you really live up there? What's it like?" "Small. Cold in winter. Silas lets me use the back room when I need quiet." "The back room?" Rory glanced at the bookshelf. Megan followed her gaze and did not understand, which was fine. "And you like it here? In London?" Rory considered the question. She rolled the glass between her palms. "I like that no one knows me before I walk in." Megan laughed, a wet sound. "Fucking hell, Rory. That's bleak." "It's honest." Megan drained her wine and pushed the glass away. She fumbled in her expensive bag. "Look. I'm here till Thursday. I'm staying at a hotel on Dean Street. Let me take you for lunch. Or dinner. Proper dinner, not— No offence to this place." "None taken." Silas said it from behind her. Megan jumped again. Megan pulled a card from her bag. Thick paper. Embossed. "My mobile's on there. Text me. Any time. Even if it's just— Even if you want to tell me to fuck off in writing." Rory took the card. The paper was smooth. "I still have the same number." "You do?" "Last four digits. Same as our old house number. 2217." Megan's face lit up. "2217. Mrs Hughes' classroom." "Mr Davies gave me detention there." "For calling him a bald prick." "He was a bald prick." They both laughed and the sound cracked the seven years in half for a second. Megan stood. She pulled her coat around her. "Text me." "I will." Megan hugged her again, shorter this time. She smelled less like perfume now and more like rain. The door shut behind her and took the cold with it. Rory stared at the card. She turned it over. Blank. Silas picked up Megan's empty glass. He wiped the ring it left. "Friend from home?" "From when home meant something else." He set the glass down. "You alright?" Rory slipped the card into the inside pocket of her jacket. She zipped it closed. She picked up her water and drank.