Chapter 242: The First Watch

Adrian waited until breakfast to ask his father.

Not because he thought the question could wait, but because he had promised himself he wouldn’t spend another night chasing answers.

He was beginning to suspect that promise would become difficult to keep.

His father was sitting at the dining table, reading a newspaper. A cup of tea rested beside his elbow.

Adrian placed his phone in front of him.

"Someone sent me another message."

His father looked up.

"What did they say?"

Adrian showed him.

Your father remembers the watch.

But he doesn’t remember who gave it to him.

Ask him what happened to the first person who wore it.

His father read the messages twice.

Then he put the phone down.

"Who sent these?"

"I don’t know."

"Have you tried calling?"

"No."

"Good."

Adrian pulled out the chair opposite him.

"Can you answer the question?"

His father folded the newspaper.

"Yes."

Adrian waited.

"The watch wasn’t originally mine."

"Then whose was it?"

"Someone I knew before your mother was born. Before I had the life you recognize."

Adrian frowned.

"You mean before you became my father?"

"Yes."

His father looked at the phone again.

"The first person who wore it was a man named Elias."

Adrian repeated the name quietly.

"Elias."

"He was not a Creator. He wasn’t one of the Before, or a possibility that came before identity. He was simply someone who existed."

"That’s an unusual description."

"Perhaps. But it’s accurate."

His father took a sip of tea.

"Elias was the first person I met after I began to understand what it meant to stay. He was a traveler. He moved between places without any particular destination, and he had a habit of collecting things that other people considered worthless."

"Like a watch?"

"Exactly."

Adrian leaned back.

"What happened to him?"

His father didn’t answer immediately.

"He died."

The answer was so ordinary that Adrian almost missed it.

"How?"

"His body failed. Nothing mysterious. Nothing that could have been prevented."

Adrian studied his father’s expression.

"You’re telling me someone you knew died, and you kept his watch?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because he asked me to."

Adrian waited.

His father continued.

"Before he died, Elias gave me the watch. He told me to keep it until I met someone who needed to know that time was not something they owned."

Adrian looked at the photograph.

"And you gave it to the man who looked like me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he asked for it."

"That’s still not an explanation."

His father smiled faintly.

"I suppose it isn’t."

---

Adrian spent the rest of breakfast thinking about Elias.

He had never heard the name before.

That didn’t mean much. His father had lived through more years and experiences than Adrian could imagine. There were probably hundreds of people he had never mentioned.

Still, something about the watch bothered him.

"Did Elias know about me?" Adrian asked.

His father shook his head.

"No. He died long before your first answer."

"Then why did he say the watch should go to someone who needed to understand time?"

"I don’t think he knew who that person would be."

"Then how did you know?"

"I didn’t."

His father placed his cup down.

"I carried it for a long time. Eventually, I stopped thinking about his request. Then the man appeared and asked for it."

"And you gave it to him."

"Yes."

Adrian frowned.

"Do you regret that?"

His father considered the question.

"No."

"Even though you don’t know who he is?"

"Especially because I don’t know who he is."

Adrian stared at him.

His father smiled.

"You’re not the only person who has the right to make a choice without explaining every part of it."

Adrian had no response.

He looked toward the kitchen.

Lena was preparing breakfast for herself, pretending not to listen.

He suspected she had heard everything.

---

Later that morning, Adrian received a call from Clara.

"Sorry to bother you," she said. "I wanted to ask something."

"Go ahead."

"I showed Michael the photographs yesterday."

"Did he recognize anyone?"

"Yes. The man standing beside my mother."

Adrian straightened.

"What did he say?"

"He said he remembered him. Apparently, the man came into the shop several times."

"Did he know his name?"

"No. But he remembered something strange."

Adrian waited.

"Michael said the man always asked about the same thing."

"What?"

"Whether my mother had received a letter."

Adrian glanced toward the table where Margaret’s letter was kept.

"Did Michael know what letter?"

"He thought it was a letter from someone named Elias."

Adrian went still.

"Did he say anything else?"

"Yes. He said Margaret once told him that the letter had been written by someone who was already dead."

Adrian closed his eyes.

Another piece.

Not an answer.

Another piece.

"Clara, could you ask Michael if he remembers anything about the watch?"

There was a pause.

"The watch?"

"Yes. A silver-faced watch with a dark leather strap."

"I can ask."

"Thank you."

After the call, Adrian stood by the window.

He could feel the mystery growing around him.

Margaret. Elias. The man with his face. His father’s watch.

And now a letter written by someone who had already died.

He wondered how many people had been drawn into this without understanding why.

---

At noon, Jonas sent him the location of the shop again.

Adrian opened the map.

It was an ordinary street, several kilometres from the old station. There were residential buildings, a small grocery store, and a row of closed businesses.

Nothing suggested that a shop might appear there after closing.

He called Jonas.

"Have you gone back?"

"No."

"Good."

"Did you speak to your father?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"He knew about the watch."

Jonas was silent.

"Did he explain who the man was?"

"Not exactly."

Adrian heard a door close on Jonas’s end.

"Listen," Jonas said. "There’s something I didn’t tell you."

Adrian sighed.

"Of course."

"When I saw the man in the shop, he asked me about my brother."

"What about him?"

"He asked whether my brother had moved."

"And what did you say?"

"That he hadn’t yet."

Jonas paused.

"Then he told me something."

"What?"

"He said I should stop waiting for my brother to come back."

Adrian remembered the earlier message.

"Your brother is moving out, Jonas. Maybe the man was telling you to accept it."

"Maybe."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He said my brother had already made his choice. He said I was the one who hadn’t."

Adrian leaned against the window frame.

"That sounds familiar."

Jonas laughed without humour.

"Yeah."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Jonas said, "I’m going to help him move tomorrow."

"Good."

"I’m not going to ask him to stay."

"Good."

"I still don’t like it."

"You don’t have to like it."

Jonas exhaled.

"Thanks."

"Don’t thank me yet. You still owe me an explanation about how you found that shop."

Jonas laughed properly this time.

"I’ll tell you when we meet."

They ended the call.

---

That afternoon, Adrian went through the photograph again.

He noticed something in the background.

The shop’s sign was partly visible. The lettering was old, but he could make out the name.

Margaret’s Stationery.

He enlarged the image and looked at the date written on the back.

Then he noticed something else.

A second date, much smaller, had been written beneath it.

It was almost impossible to see.

He adjusted the brightness.

The numbers became clearer.

The photograph had been developed on a date three days after the man had supposedly visited the shop.

Adrian stared at the screen.

That was strange.

He sent the image to Elise and asked whether she knew who had taken it.

She replied a few minutes later.

Margaret took it herself.

Adrian read the message.

Then another arrived.

She told me she wanted proof that he had been there.

Adrian typed a question.

Adrian: Did she ever show you the original negative?

Elise replied.

No. She kept it in a separate envelope.

Adrian: Do you know where?

There was a longer pause.

Then:

I think she gave it to Michael.

Adrian immediately called Clara.

---

Michael answered from Anna’s phone.

Clara had explained who was calling, and the older man greeted Adrian warmly.

"Hello, young man."

"Hello, Michael. Sorry to bother you."

"You’re not bothering me."

Adrian explained about the photograph and asked whether Michael remembered an envelope containing its original negative.

Michael was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, "I think I know what you’re talking about."

"You have it?"

"I might."

There was some movement on the other end.

"Anna, could you bring the wooden box from upstairs?"

A few moments passed.

Then Michael returned.

"Yes. I have it."

Adrian sat down.

"Could you send me a photograph of it?"

"I can. But there’s something else."

"What?"

Michael lowered his voice.

"Margaret told me not to give it to anyone unless they asked about the man."

Adrian looked at the photograph on his screen.

"Did she say why?"

"No. She only said that the person asking would know what to do with it."

Adrian closed his eyes.

"Michael, I think I’m that person."

"Then I suppose it’s yours."

---

The image arrived twenty minutes later.

It showed a small envelope with a date written on the front.

Beneath the date was another line.

For the one who remembers.

Adrian opened the image.

Inside was a strip of photographic negative.

And on the back of the envelope, Margaret had written something.

The man in the photograph is not the first person to wear the face.

Adrian read the sentence several times.

Then his phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

You have learned about Elias.

Another message followed.

Now ask your father why he stopped looking for him.

Adrian looked toward the hallway.

His father was in the living room.

He stood and walked toward him.

"Father?"

His father looked up from his book.

"Yes?"

Adrian showed him the message.

For the first time that morning, his father looked genuinely unsettled.

He read the words.

Then he looked at Adrian.

"Where did you get this?"

"Someone keeps sending me messages."

His father put the phone down.

"Adrian, listen carefully."

The older man’s voice had changed.

"What?"

"Elias didn’t simply die."

Adrian’s expression tightened.

"You told me his body failed."

"It did."

"Then what are you saying?"

His father looked toward the photograph on the table.

"Elias was the first person who taught me that someone could be gone and still remain."

Adrian waited.

"After he died, I searched for him. Not because I believed he could return, but because I couldn’t accept that there would be no more conversations."

"And?"

"I found something."

"What?"

His father lowered his eyes.

"A place where his watch had stopped."

Adrian stared.

"Where?"

His father looked up again.

"Inside the shop."

Adrian felt a chill run through him.

"The shop that shouldn’t exist?"

His father nodded.

"Yes."

He paused.

"And when I went inside, I saw someone wearing Elias’s face."

Adrian looked at the photograph.

Then back at his father.

"Was it the man who looked like me?"

His father nodded slowly.

"No."

He leaned forward.

"It was someone else."

And for the first time, Adrian understood that the man in the photograph might not be the only person who had been waiting for him.