The next morning came slowly, as if the sun itself hesitated before rising. Elias didn't sleep. He lay awake the whole night, staring at the bracelet resting on the wooden shelf he'd carved. It looked so small, so harmless yet it made the island feel different, alive in a way he hadn't felt before.
He stepped outside, the cool dawn air wrapping around him. The island was quiet, but it wasn't the same kind of quiet as before. This was the quiet you feel when you know someone else is nearby, even if you can't see them. The quiet of held breath.
He walked toward the forest again, not sure what he was expecting. He didn't know if he wanted to find the person or avoid them. The idea of another human sent a strange pull through his chest half fear, half longing.
Every sound felt amplified: the crunch of leaves under his boots, the distant call of a bird, the faint rustle of branches high above. He kept replaying the moment he found the bracelet, imagining the hands that tied the knot, the wrist it once held. Was it a child? A woman? A troubled wanderer like him?
He reached the clearing where he found the footprints before. The ground looked untouched today, the morning dew lying still over the grass. Whoever left those marks wasn't here now.
But something else was.
A small piece of fabric, caught on the edge of a branch. Blue, frayed, attached to nothing. Elias approached it slowly, heart thudding. He lifted it gently with two fingers. It smelled faintly of smoke. And something sweeter. Something human.
He closed his eyes and breathed in.
He wasn't alone.
Not anymore.
As the day stretched on, Elias searched deeper into parts of the island he'd never dared to explore. The terrain grew rougher, filled with sharp rocks and uneven ground. The trees twisted overhead, branches crossing like crooked fingers, blocking most of the sunlight.
Then he heard it.
Not loudly. Not clearly. But enough to freeze him.
A voice.
A quick, soft sound ,someone gasping or whispering or struggling to breathe. Elias turned, trying to follow it, his pulse hammering. He wasn't imagining it; he knew the tone of a human voice too well. He knew how pain sounded.
He picked his way through the dense underbrush until he reached a small shaded hollow beneath a thick canopy of leaves. And there, at the far end of it, he saw something that made his breath catch:
A pile of stones arranged in a small, careful circle.
A shelter.
A place someone had been sleeping.
It wasn't fresh. But it wasn't abandoned either.
Clothes lay folded on a large flat rock simple, worn, sun-stained shirts. Next to them sat a cracked metal cup, as if someone had dropped it days ago and never returned.
Elias's throat tightened. He touched nothing. He felt like an intruder trespassing on another person's quiet suffering.
Then he saw it: a line carved into the trunk of a tree beside the shelter. Not a decorative marking, not random scratches.
Just a single sentence:
"I can't remember how to be alive."
Elias stepped back, stomach twisting.
He knew that feeling too well.
Too painfully well.
He stared at the carved words for a long time, his fingers trembling at his sides. Whoever this person was… they were fighting a war even more silent than his.
And they were losing.
Elias returned to the beach before sunset, but the island didn't feel like the same place he'd woken up in. Every corner of it now seemed like it hid stories, tears, and footsteps belonging to someone else. Someone damaged. Someone fragile. Someone who might be running from the same things he ran from.
As night fell, he sat near the fire he'd built, staring into the flames. The bracelet lay beside him again. He kept touching it without realizing, thumb brushing over the rope like a nervous habit.
He didn't know why this stranger mattered so much.
He didn't know why he cared if they were alive or dead.
He didn't even know if he was capable of connection anymore.
But for the first time in years, maybe in his whole life, he wasn't drowning in his own misery alone. Someone else out there understood the kind of pain that didn't need words.
The waves whispered along the shore, soft and rhythmic, almost like breathing.
Elias lifted the bracelet, held it against his chest, and closed his eyes.
"If you're out there," he whispered into the darkness, "I won't leave you alone."
The fire crackled gently, sparks rising like tiny stars.
For the first time, the island felt like it was listening.
For the first time, Elias felt like he wasn't fading.