Ficool

Between the chimes

Quazio
63
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 63 chs / week.
--
NOT RATINGS
407
Views
Synopsis
Between the quiet chimes of his small repair shop, Rowen lives in silence. When Lira—a woman from his distant past—steps into that stillness, her fleeting visits draw him into a private world of soft touches and unspoken understanding. Their quiet intimacy leaves no promises, only the weight of memory in a life that will look unchanged to everyone but him. Between the Chimes is a slice-of-life story of solitude, fleeting connection, and the soft echoes that remain when the world moves on.
VIEW MORE

Chapter 1 - Chapter One: A Normal Routine

The morning was ordinary, which made it noticeable.

Rowen woke to the soft hum of an old ceiling fan slicing the quiet in even turns. The house was neither too warm nor too cold. He brushed his teeth with his usual detachment, dressed without checking the mirror, and left for work carrying the same canvas sling bag he'd used for years.

The suburban streets were still and familiar. A man watered plants across the road. A child dragged a schoolbag too big for him. It all passed Rowen like scenery he'd watched too many times. His shop sat tucked between a tailor's and a shuttered travel agency, metal sign faded from years of sun.

He opened the shop alone, as always.

The counter was clean. Tools in place. Parts labeled. Dust settled only where it didn't matter. Everything as it should be.

By mid-morning, he'd repaired two phones—both minor fixes—and replaced a battery in an old tablet. He worked quietly, methodically, preferring not to speak unless required. The bell above the glass door chimed now and then, and he offered the same greeting to each customer: polite but distant.

A woman in a pale blue blouse stepped in, holding a small wireless speaker.

" Hi, I am Mira"

She explained the issue—something about it not charging consistently. He listened, tested the port briefly.

"Leave it for a day"

She nodded, smiled once, and left. Her presence didn't register much. Just another stranger.

Then, closer to noon, a man entered.

He was tall, sharp-featured, dressed in a dark grey suit that didn't belong to this slow part of town. His hair was neatly combed, watch expensive but understated. He held out a water-damaged smartphone and explained with concise words that it had slipped into a sink the night before.

Rowen took it, opened the back panel, and nodded slightly. "Come back tomorrow."

The man gave a short thank you and left a number on the slip.

Rowen watched him leave a beat longer than usual—not out of curiosity, just a flicker of something unusual breaking through the routine. The sharp shoes, the scent of cologne, the kind of polish that rarely his customers used.

Then he went back to work.

The afternoon was quiet. A few walk-ins. A charging issue. A screen replacement. The usual.