On a rain-slicked London morning, Max gets the notification that should feel like a win: a film he worked on has been selected for a festival.Instead, his stomach drops.Because he knows what the industry doesn't say out loud: somewhere along the line, he helped make a person's life portable.A single clip. A single "just for a second." A small breach that became a larger harm-one that rippled out into subjects' families, into trust, into safety. Max can apologise. He already has. But apologies don't rebuild systems. They don't protect the next person. And they don't undo the kind of damage that arrives on someone's phone without consent.Enter Open Rushes: a small nonprofit running a consent-first screening pilot-practical, strict, and human. No PR. No redemption marketing. Just repair work that can be measured: consent re-checks, advocate support, safer tech, travel funds, childcare, and clear boundaries that put the people on screen back at the centre.Leading the pilot is Riva Shah-sharp, warm, relentless, the kind of woman who can run a room like a rehearsal and still make people feel safe enough to breathe. She doesn't do performative apologies. She doesn't hand out absolution. And she definitely doesn't let anyone turn harm into a hero arc.Max shows up anyway.What starts as a structured process-facilitated conversations, accountability, and tangible work-becomes something neither of them planned: a slow, steady closeness built on honesty, competence, and consent that isn't just spoken, but lived. In a city of night buses and bridge lights, tea kettles and cables, checklists and second chances, they learn what it actually means to rebuild trust without demanding forgiveness.Night-Bus Navy is an emotionally grounded contemporary romance about accountability, repair, and the kind of love that doesn't rush the hard parts-because the hard parts are where the truth lives.