Run: 2026-09-23-01M36P3EWKB5P1RS8EC31SV38Q

The green neon above the Raven’s Nest bled through the front window and striped the rain on Rory’s coat. She stood beneath it, counting the coins from her delivery pouch, when someone inside laughed. The sound caught her by the collar. She looked up. Through the glass, a woman in a rust-coloured coat leaned over the bar, one hand wrapped around a tumbler. Her hair, once a dark rope she’d worn down her back, stopped at her jaw. A pale streak ran above her left temple. She turned to answer Silas, and the years between her face and Rory’s memory fell away. Eva. Rory’s fingers closed over the coins. One slid through them and struck the pavement. The woman at the bar turned. For a beat, neither of them moved. Rain tapped against the window. Silas set down a glass and watched Rory through the doorway, his hazel eyes narrowing as he took in her stillness. Eva opened the door. “Rory.” The name came out with the old Cardiff lilt, though the voice had roughened around the edges. Rory bent for the coin. “You’re in London.” “I am.” “That’s a start.” Eva’s mouth lifted, then settled. She glanced at the coins in Rory’s palm, the damp delivery bag slung against her hip, the black hair stuck to her cheek. “You look—” “Don’t.” “I wasn’t going to say tired.” “Good. I’m not.” Eva’s gaze held hers, full of things she didn’t say. “Can I come in?” Rory stepped aside. Silas reached for the towel beneath the bar. His limp showed as he crossed the room, left leg stiff on the turn. “Eva Ellis. You’ve grown your hair out of trouble.” “Silas.” Eva gave him a smile that belonged to another room, another year. “You still run a place that smells like wet wool and secrets.” “Only on weekdays.” Rory hung her coat on the peg by the door. The delivery bag followed, its strap creaking against the wood. “You two know each other?” “Everyone worth avoiding knows Silas,” Eva replied. “Then my reputation remains intact.” Silas tapped the bar with his silver signet ring. “Drink?” “Whisky, please.” “Neat?” “I’m not fourteen anymore.” “Neither am I. I still ask.” Eva sat on a stool. Rory took the chair at the end of the bar, keeping a space between them. Silas poured the whisky and set it in front of Eva without asking Rory what she wanted. Eva looked at the glass. “I thought you’d be in Cardiff.” “I thought you’d be in Manchester.” “I was.” “And now?” “London.” “That’s still a start.” Eva took a sip. “You always did make people earn the second question.” Rory pulled a damp strand of hair from her mouth. “You always did arrive with the first answer missing.” Silas rubbed the bar with his towel, though the wood already shone. “I’ll be in the back.” He disappeared through the doorway beside the shelves. Rory watched him go, then turned back to Eva. “How long?” “Since I saw you?” “Since Cardiff.” “Four years and three months.” “You counted.” “I counted a lot of things.” The glass hovered near Eva’s mouth. She lowered it again. “Your mother’s garden wall. The number of buses from the hospital to the station. How many times you told me you weren’t going to leave Evan.” “Then you were busy.” “I was.” Rory rested both hands on the table. Her left wrist showed where her sleeve had slipped, the small crescent scar pale against her skin. Eva’s eyes caught on it. “You still have that.” “It was a childhood accident.” “I remember. You climbed the apple tree after I told you not to.” “You dared me.” “I did.” Eva touched the rim of her glass. “I remember that too.” Rory flexed her fingers once, then tucked the scar beneath her cuff. “What brought you here?” “My sister’s got a job at King’s. She asked me to help her move.” Eva tilted her head. “I knew you lived in London. I didn’t know where.” “You could have asked.” “I could have.” “You had my number.” “I did.” Rory’s gaze dropped to the table’s old scratches. Someone had carved a crooked star into the varnish. She traced one point with her thumbnail. “Why didn’t you call?” Eva watched her hand. “Because the last time we spoke, you were in my spare room with your shoes on and your suitcase zipped. You’d just left him. You kept checking the front window.” “I remember.” “You’d said you were going back.” “I didn’t.” “You said you couldn’t stay with me.” “I couldn’t.” Eva nodded as if she’d come prepared to accept that. “I got the job offer in Manchester two weeks later. Mum was ill, and my sister was still at school. I left.” “You sent a message.” “I sent six.” “I got them.” “Then you know I asked you to come with me.” “I knew.” Rory lifted her eyes. “You asked me to move in with you while I was still working out how to walk through a supermarket without checking every aisle.” “I thought being somewhere new would help.” “It did. London helped.” “I know.” “No, you know I moved. You don’t know what it cost.” Eva’s fingers tightened around the glass. “You’re right.” The answer left no room for Rory to strike at it. She drew a breath through her nose and let it go. Silas’s footsteps crossed the room behind the wall. A bottle clinked against another. The old maps above the bar curled at their edges, coastlines faded beneath years of smoke and dust. Eva looked around. “You work here?” “I live above it.” “And the bag?” “Deliveries. Golden Empress.” “You’re delivering food?” “Among other things.” “You were meant to be a barrister.” “I was meant to be a lot of things.” “That was your father talking.” “My father talked. I listened.” “You wanted the law.” “I wanted him to stop asking when I’d decided.” Eva leaned an elbow on the bar. “That’s not the same.” “No.” Rory’s voice stayed level. “It isn’t.” Eva studied her. The old habit returned—the quiet scrutiny she’d used on Rory at school, when she could spot a lie before Rory had finished building it. But the woman on the stool had a sharp new line beside her mouth and a silver ring on her thumb. She looked as if life had taught her to ask permission before entering a room. “You changed,” Eva murmured. Rory glanced at the black hair falling against her jaw. “So did you.” “I cut it after Mum died.” The words landed without ceremony. Rory’s hands went still. “When?” “Last winter.” “Eva.” “You didn’t know.” “I should have.” “You were in London. I didn’t tell you.” “I could’ve found out.” “You didn’t.” Rory looked at the crescent of whisky left in Eva’s glass. “No.” For a while, neither spoke. Someone near the door shook rain from an umbrella. The water pattered against the mat, then stopped. Eva ran her thumb along the glass. “She asked about you near the end.” Rory swallowed. “What did you tell her?” “That you’d got out. That you were safe.” “Was I?” “I didn’t know.” “Then why say it?” “Because she wanted to hear it.” Eva met her eyes. “And because I wanted it to be true.” Rory’s mouth tightened. “You could have called.” “I know.” “You could have told me she was ill.” “I know.” “You could have let me decide whether I wanted to come.” Eva flinched, not much, but enough. “I know.” Rory pressed her palm to the table. The old crescent scar pulled pale beneath her cuff. “You don’t get to make the choice for me and call it kindness.” “I didn’t.” “You did.” “I thought if I told you, you’d feel you had to come. You’d get on a train because you thought you owed me. I didn’t want that.” “You didn’t want to see me.” Eva set down her glass. “I wanted to see you so much I kept finding reasons not to.” Rory looked at her. “That’s a rotten reason.” “It is.” “Did you come here because your sister needed help moving?” “That’s why I came to London.” “And why did you come here?” Eva’s face shifted. For an instant, Rory saw the girl in the Cardiff school uniform, rain-dark hair plastered to her cheeks, waiting by the gates with two chocolate bars hidden in her blazer. “I saw the sign from the cab,” Eva replied. “I knew Silas’s name. I thought you might be here.” “You thought?” “I asked the driver to stop.” Rory glanced at the window, where the green light cut across Eva’s reflection. “You came looking for me without knowing if I wanted to be found.” “Yes.” “That’s a change.” “I know.” “From the girl who left six messages.” “I was scared you’d answer.” Rory let out a small breath that almost became a laugh. “You were always scared of the answer.” “Not always.” “Name one time.” Eva opened her mouth. Nothing came. She picked up the whisky and drained it. Rory raised a hand towards Silas, but he had not reappeared. She looked back at Eva. “I don’t know what you expect from me.” “I don’t expect anything.” “People always expect something.” “Then expect me to sit here and drink the whisky I paid for.” “You didn’t pay.” “I will.” “That’s not what I meant.” “I know.” Eva reached for the empty glass, then stopped short of lifting it. “I’m not asking you to forgive me tonight.” “Good.” “I’m asking if you’ll tell me what happened after you left Cardiff.” Rory’s jaw set. She glanced at the door, at the wet pavement beyond it, at the coins still clenched in her palm. “You want the neat version or the one that takes a while?” “The one that takes a while.” Rory looked down at the money. One coin had left a dark crescent in her palm. “Then order another drink,” she said. “And don’t leave this time.”