Kai Mercer worked with his hands because words had always been too clumsy. Each cut of the saw, each strike of the hammer, each carefully sanded surface was a language he understood. Wood had texture, grain, and weight—it responded when he treated it with care, and for a time, it had been enough.
Once, his world had been brighter. He and his brother, Elias, had dreamed together: a custom woodworking shop where their designs would blend artistry and utility, a place that would carry their shared passion forward. They had spent late nights sketching tables, chairs, and cabinets, imagining clients who would delight in the pieces as much as they did. Laughter had flowed as freely as sawdust, and Kai had felt invincible.
But that was before the accident.
One rainy night, Elias had been driving home from a client meeting. Kai had been finishing a custom countertop in the workshop, unaware of the tragedy unfolding just a few streets away. The phone call came, sharp and final: Elias was gone. The car, the crash, the flashing lights—it all blurred in Kai's mind. The laughter, the plans, the bright future—they ended in an instant, leaving him with a hollow ache that settled into every joint, every muscle, every quiet corner of his life.
The shop became both a sanctuary and a prison. The bills piled up like uncut timber; clients were scarce; debts hovered like storm clouds. Every morning, he faced the ledgers and letters demanding payment, each one a reminder of dreams he could no longer afford. He worked tirelessly, but the numbers didn't bend to will or effort. His world was shrinking, and with every nail he hammered, he felt hope slip further through his fingers.
Elias had given him a wristwatch the day the shop opened, a token of their bond and a reminder of the life they had built together, however briefly. It was a simple thing, elegant in its understated silver casing, etched with a faint constellation pattern that always made Kai smile. He wore it every day, mostly out of habit, mainly because it reminded him of Elias.
What Kai didn't know—and what he could never have guessed—was that the watch carried more than memories. It carried echoes, faint threads of emotion that could travel farther than the mind usually allowed. Every tick and tock was a heartbeat connecting him to someone else, someone whose own life was as quiet and lonely as his.
Kai rubbed the edge of the watch against his wrist as he surveyed the workshop. The wood smelled faintly of pine and varnish, a comforting, grounding scent that could not, on its own, chase away the gnawing worry in his chest. The bank's notice still sat unopened on the counter. The thought of foreclosure made him grit his teeth, hammer poised above another plank.
For now, he built. For now, he survived.
Yet even as he carved, sanded, and polished, the world he had once imagined—the life he had dreamed alongside Elias—felt irretrievably distant. And the watch on his wrist ticked on, unknowingly bridging the chasm between him and a stranger whose empathy was beginning to reach across the divide.