The door opened with a soft jingle. Rowen stepped aside and held it open without speaking, his eyes quietly registering the figure stepping in.
She walked in wearing a pale blue blouse and loose pants, hair tied back in a simple knot. Nothing about her was loud. She looked around once, lightly, then stepped forward.
"Hi," she said, approaching the counter. "I'm here to collect a phone my fiancé dropped off yesterday."
Then her eyes focused on him.
Her expression shifted—from polite expectation to slight surprise.
"Wait… Rowen?"
His name sounded odd coming from her. Years hadn't touched her voice, only softened its edges.
"Yes," he replied, voice even.
She gave a small laugh. "I almost didn't recognize you. You're... different."
He didn't ask what that meant. He just gave a slow nod and turned to retrieve the phone.
"Here."
She turned it over in her hands, checked the screen, pressed a few buttons.
"Looks perfect. Thank you."
He nodded again.
She looked around the shop, the narrow shelves lined with old chargers, battery packs, cracked screens, a few finished items waiting to be picked up. Nothing fancy. Nothing new.
"I didn't know you were here," she said, almost to herself.
"I moved six months ago."
"Quiet area."
"That's why I chose it."
She gave a small smile. There was no awkwardness in her, only a calm ease that came from not knowing she had ever meant anything more to him than another classmate.
"We're just visiting," she said, placing the phone in her bag. "My fiancé is looking at a couple of properties around here. He runs a logistics firm. Expansion stuff."
Rowen offered no reaction, only listened.
"It's a nice area," she added. "Peaceful."
"It is."
She hesitated for a moment, studying his face with a quiet kind of interest. The way she lingered wasn't intrusive, but it wasn't casual either. It had the stillness of someone who was trying to decide whether to say something else.
"Well, it was good to see you, Rowen. Unexpected, but nice."
"You too."
With that, she walked out.
The door closed with the same jingle. Then silence.
Rowen didn't move for a while. The bench behind him waited, the tools untouched. The light from the front window lay across the counter in a long rectangle.
Eventually, he sat back down, picked up a screwdriver, and turned it slowly in his fingers.
He didn't think about her much. Not right away. But something about the way she paused before leaving stayed with him—like an unfinished sentence.
Still, there was always something to fix.
And that was enough for now.