Morning came in layers. Pale light against the wall. The soft rattle of a passing garbage truck. A neighbor's dog barking half-heartedly before falling quiet again.
Rowen opened the shop the same way he always did—keys in, shutter up, chair pulled out, tools arranged. The routine felt unshaken. But something in his thoughts drifted more than usual.
He had started disassembling an old smartwatch when he realized he was still thinking about yesterday. Not emotionally. Just... noticing. The way Lira had lingered after her question. How she had said his name. How she hadn't pretended not to remember.
He didn't like overthinking. He preferred when silence stayed silent.
Late morning, movement outside the shop caught his attention. He looked up in time to see her walking past.
She wasn't looking for him—but she did glance inside. Their eyes met only briefly. She didn't stop.
Rowen returned to his tools, but the quiet no longer hummed the same.
That evening, the air carried more warmth than the day deserved. Rowen closed the shop and took the long way home, through a lane that ran parallel to the main road. It was quieter and bordered by empty lots and commercial buildings still under construction.
Halfway down the street, he saw it: a sleek black car parked near a modern glass building. A man in a suit stood beside it, speaking into a phone.
Even from a distance, Rowen recognized the voice. Polished. Confident. Lira's fiancé.
He didn't stop. He didn't slow. He simply kept walking, eyes forward.
At home, he didn't turn on the television. He didn't open his notebook. He sat with a glass of water and stared at nothing in particular.
The silence was there, but it wasn't the same. It felt like it was waiting for something.
Rowen went to bed early. Not because he was tired—but because the day felt longer than it should have been.
Sometimes, it was the smallest things that made the quiet feel loud.