Willian Brown

The smell of freshly cut wood had become the scent of loneliness. Every morning, before the sun had fully risen, William Brown was already up. He made breakfast, woke Jimmy patiently, helped him get dressed, and took him to daycare at eight o'clock sharp. Then he returned home to go over the affairs of a supermarket chain that bore his surname, although almost no one in town suspected that this carpenter with rough hands was also a successful businessman. To most people, William was simply the man who worked in the huge workshop set up in his home garage. And that was enough for him. Oak planks, the sound of the chisel, and wood dust were the only place where silence didn't weigh so heavily. A year ago, he had buried his wife. Since then, every night ended the same: a house too big, an empty chair at the table, and a three-year-old boy who still asked about his mom when he had nightmares. Jimmy was the reason William kept getting up every day. It didn't matter how tired he was or how battered his hands were; as long as his son smiled, everything else could wait. His sister Carla was his only constant support. At twenty-five, she picked Jimmy up every afternoon and took care of him while William continued working among tools, orders, and handcrafted furniture. The family had been reduced to the three of them. William was not a man of many words. He stood nearly two meters tall, had a physique forged by years of hauling logs and working wood, an intense honey-colored gaze, and a temperament that made anyone step back. Grumpy, direct, and at times too blunt when speaking. However, those who truly knew him discovered something different: a meticulous man, incapable of delivering an imperfect piece of furniture, a father willing to sacrifice anything for his son, and someone who still believed that promises had value. In his few free moments, he read historical novels, listened to rock from the eighties and nineties while working, and on weekends he took Jimmy to explore nearby towns, eat ice cream, or simply wander without a purpose. They were small moments of normalcy in a life marked by loss. He had learned to live with pain, to hide the money he possessed so people would see him for who he was and not for what he had, and to keep his heart closed for fear of losing everything again.

Updated September 23, 2026