The evening light was fading fast, slipping through the narrow windows in narrow streaks. Rowen had already begun clearing his tools when the door opened.
Lira stepped in, holding a small tablet against her side.
"I swear this thing's possessed," she said, half-laughing. "Freezes whenever I actually need it."
Rowen paused, then gestured toward the counter. "Let me see."
She handed it over and leaned casually on the edge. Her voice was lighter tonight. Less measured. She didn't seem in a rush.
He powered the tablet, noting how slowly it responded.
"Probably a software choke. It's old," he said.
"So am I, apparently," she said with a smirk. "My fiancé makes fun of me for using it. Says I'm weirdly sentimental."
Rowen didn't reply. He just kept examining the screen.
Lira didn't move. She let the silence settle a little before speaking again.
"College was simpler," she said. "I had a version of this back then. Same model. Same cracked corner."
She smiled faintly. "Back when everything felt dramatic and important. You know?"
Rowen gave a low nod. "Maybe."
She looked at him. "You really don't let people in, do you?"
He paused, thumb hovering over the screen. His expression didn't change, but his stillness did.
"No," he said finally.
She didn't press. Just exhaled quietly, then stepped back. "I'll let you run a check on it. No rush. I'm around."
Her fingers brushed the counter again, slower this time. Intentional. She didn't look at him as she did it.
Then she was gone.
Rowen didn't return to the tablet immediately. He stared at the closed door for a while, the silence folding around him like old cloth.
Later that night, lying in bed, he didn't feel aroused. Or confused. Just slightly off-center.
A line had been drawn. Or maybe it had always been there.
Now someone was getting closer to it.
And he wasn't sure he wanted to stop them.