Run: 2026-09-03-01M1K4SB0BGP82D2AHEAKXSJQF

The green neon of The Raven's Nest bled into the wet pavement on Greek Street. Rain hammered the awnings and the bins and the shoulders of anyone daft enough to walk Soho after ten. Rory pushed the door with her shoulder. A bell over the frame jangled. Warm air hit her face. Beer and old wood and lemon cleaner. The room was dim, lit by low bulbs over the bar and the glow from the optics. Old maps and black-and-white photographs covered the walls, their corners curled with age. The bookshelf at the far end stood shut, its spine of false histories hiding the back room. Silas stood behind the bar. His grey-streaked auburn hair caught the light. His beard, neat and trimmed to match, shadowed his jaw. His hazel eyes lifted. His right hand, the silver signet ring bright on the finger, paused on a glass he polished with a cloth. He favoured his left leg as he shifted his weight. "You look drowned, Rory." Rory peeled off her damp jacket. Her straight black hair clung to her neck in shoulder-length strands. She hung the jacket on the hook by the door. "Golden Empress had me on the Euston run. Yu-Fei owes me hazard pay for that hill in this piss." Silas set the glass down. A smile cracked his face. "Hot water's on upstairs if you want it. You got back late." "Give us a half first. Then I'll vanish." Rory slid onto a stool. Her left wrist turned as she reached for the glass. The small crescent scar on the skin caught the bar light, pale against the rest. The door bell jangled again. Cold air cut through the warmth. Rory did not look at first. She heard the rattle of an umbrella, the tap of heels on the wood floor. "Christ. Do they leave that neon on all night? I walked past three times before I clocked it was a bar." The voice stopped Rory's hand mid-air. She knew that voice. She had heard it shout across a playground in Cardiff, whisper over cheap cider on a roof, sing off-key on a bus to uni. The accent was softer now, rounded at the edges, but it belonged to no one else. Rory turned. Eva stood in the doorway. Eva from Cardiff. Eva who braided Rory's hair on the steps of the law building. Eva who told Rory to get on the train to London and never look back. Eva had changed. Her hair, once dyed a patchy pink and cut short with kitchen scissors, now fell in a clean chestnut bob. Her coat was wool, camel-coloured, dry despite the rain. Her face held the same bones but sharper, made up with a dark lip and a clean line of eyeliner. She looked like someone who worked in an office with a view. She looked ten years older than the girl Rory remembered, though no more than a few years had passed. Eva stared. Her umbrella dripped onto the mat. "Rory?" Rory's throat closed. She got to her feet. The stool scraped. "No chance." Eva let out a sound between a laugh and a gasp. She crossed the room in four strides and threw her arms round Rory's neck. Her coat smelled of perfume and rain. "Oh my god. Oh my god, it is you. It is you." Rory hugged back. Eva's shoulder blades felt thin under the wool. Rory's own bright blue eyes stung. "What are you doing here? What are you doing in London?" Eva pulled back and held Rory at arm's length. Her hands squeezed Rory's elbows. "I live here now. Six months. I moved for work. I was going to message, I swear, I just — you never answer that bloody group chat." Rory's smile froze. Silas watched from behind the bar. He set another glass down with a soft clink. He gave Rory space, but his gaze stayed on the two women. "You live here? Here in London? For six months?" "I know, I know." Eva's grin faded a fraction. She looked over Rory's shoulder at the bar, at the maps, at Silas with his grey-streaked hair and his limp. She took in Rory's delivery jacket, the trainers worn at the heel, the flat above a bar that hummed with late-night voices. "You look — you look good. You cut your hair." "You look different, Evs." Eva touched her own bob. A self-conscious gesture. "Do I? Yeah. The firm has a dress code. No pink hair when you deal with property law. Remember how we said we'd never do law?" Rory laughed, but the sound cracked. "You did it. You went and did Pre-Law properly." "Somebody had to." Eva's tone sharpened with humour, but it landed wrong. She glanced at the bar stool. "Can I — do you have time? One drink? For old time's sake?" Rory hesitated. Her fingers found the rim of her half-pint. "Yeah. Yeah, sit." Silas already poured a second measure without asking. He slid it across the wood. The signet ring on his right hand flashed. "On the house for a reunion." Eva perched on the stool next to Rory. She smoothed her coat over her knees. Her nails were painted a deep red, short and perfect. "Your dad still at the chambers? Does he still call you his little barrister?" "Brendan still does that, yeah." Rory took a drink. "And your mum? Mrs Ellis? Still terrorises Year Nine with Shakespeare?" "Jennifer still teaches. Same school." Eva nodded. She picked up her glass but did not drink. "I went back last summer. Cardiff. I walked past your old place. The one on Cathedral Road. I saw Evan there." The name dropped between them. Rory's hand tightened round her glass. Her left wrist turned again, the crescent scar white under the light. "Evan was on the pavement?" "He was outside the Spar. He asked after you." Rory stared at the bar. The wood grain swam. "What did you tell him?" "I told him to fuck off." Eva's voice was flat. She finally looked at Rory. "I told him a lot more than that. Then I went home and Mum said you never came back for Christmas. Not once." Rory swallowed. "You know why I left." "I know you left at three in the morning with a rucksack and a text that said 'Cover for me'. I know I lied to your parents for two days. I know I waited for you to call and you didn't for four months." Eva's words came fast, low. The bar noise covered them. Two men at a table near the maps laughed over a game of darts. "I was a mess, Eva. You saw what he did." "I saw. I helped you pack. I gave you the money for the train." Eva leaned forward. Her dark lip trembled. "I thought we were going to London together. That was the plan since we were fifteen. You and me, flat share, Pre-Law was just — we were going to sack it off, remember? Then you went and I stayed and finished the degree and got the job and — you never told me where you lived. I found out from Instagram that you worked for a Chinese restaurant. A delivery job, Rory. You were top of the year." Rory's chest rose. Her eyes burned bright blue in the dim light. She pushed her hair back behind her ears. "You think I wanted this? Living above a bar? Cycling through rain with noodles? I did what I had to do. Yu-Fei gave me work when no one else did. Silas gave me a roof. I didn't have a plan, I had a bruise on my ribs and a phone with no battery." Silas shifted his weight, his left leg stiff. He picked up a cloth and wiped a spot that was already clean. He gave no sign he heard, but his presence anchored the room. Eva stared at her glass. Her reflection warped in the liquid. "I looked for flats for us. I kept a list. I thought — any day now Rory calls and says let's do it." Rory's voice dropped. "You changed your number." "I changed my hair, I changed my job, I changed my whole life because I thought you wanted me to be like you. Cool-headed Rory. Quick with an answer. You always knew what to do." "I never knew what to do. I just left." The silence that followed was not empty. It filled with all the nights Rory had not called, all the birthdays Eva had spent with her parents asking where Aurora had gone. Eva laughed without humour. She tapped her red nail against the glass. "Look at us. You deliver takeaway and I push paper for landlords. What happened to running away to Berlin? What happened to not becoming our parents?" Rory looked at Eva's coat, at the expensive bob, at the woman who had become someone Rory did not recognise. Then she looked at Eva's eyes, which were the same. Uncertain and fierce. "You look good in that coat, Evs." Eva's face crumpled. She pressed her palms to her eyes for a second. "You vanished, Rory. You vanished and I had to grieve you while you were still alive." Rory reached out. Her hand hovered over Eva's arm, then landed. The scar on her wrist brushed Eva's sleeve. "I'm here now." Eva lowered her hands. Her eyeliner had smudged at the corner. "Are you? You live five minutes from my office and I found you by accident because it pissed down and I needed a drink." Rory opened her mouth. The words tangled. "I didn't think you'd want — after how I left — I thought you hated me." Eva shook her head. Her voice was raw. "I never hated you. I waited." Silas set a bowl of crisps between them. A quiet offering. His hazel eyes met Rory's for a moment, then dropped. Eva picked up a crisp and broke it between her fingers. Crumbs fell on her coat. "Do you still want that flat share?" Rory stared at her. The green neon flickered against the window, steady and buzzing. "What?" "The flat share. I have a one-bed in Clapham. The lease is up next month. We said we'd get a place with a balcony and a stupid welcome mat." Eva tried to smile. It broke halfway. "I know it's mad. It's just — I saw you and I thought —" Rory's fingers dug into the edge of the bar. Her bright blue eyes widened. "Eva — I —" The door bell jangled again. A gust of rain and a group of lads pushed in, loud with drink.