The cold wind swept through the streets of London, cutting through the afternoon air. People hurried along the sidewalks, returning to their jobs.
Among the crowd walked a young man of about seventeen. His dark hazel hair was tousled, and his light brown eyes shimmered almost golden. He was tall for his age, slim but with a defined physique. His simple yet elegant appearance gave him an air of maturity that contrasted with his youth.
— Argh… it's colder than usual today. I should have brought a sweater, — he muttered, pulling his coat tighter.
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a silver pocket watch with fine golden details. Despite its simple appearance, it was a refined, well-maintained piece with an almost supernatural shine.
That watch was one of his greatest treasures, made by the first watchmaker of Notting Hill — Henry Roberts, Daniel's great-grandfather.
— I think I'll be a little late today… I spent too much time studying for the final exams.
Daniel was in his final year of high school, and with December drawing to a close, graduation was approaching.
— Well, it's Monday. The shop should be quiet. Dad can manage for a while.
Every day after school, Daniel helped at the family watch shop. He manned the counter, assisting customers, while his father worked in the back, repairing and maintaining the watches.
After a few minutes of walking, Daniel reached home, located in a more upscale area of Notting Hill. Next to it was the family shop — "Roberts" — proudly engraved on a dark wooden sign.
The façade was simple yet charming. A large glass window took up almost the entire front of the shop, framed by rustic wood and adorned with delicate golden details. Next to it, a wooden door with a glass pane at eye level completed the picture, as if it had been taken from another era.
Standing in front of the house, Daniel let a faint smile escape. That place filled him with pride. He noticed an elderly lady leaving the shop — a longtime customer who regularly came to adjust her watch.
— Just as I thought… few customers today. It's quiet. I'll take a shower, change, and then head to the corner store for a snack before going to the watch shop, — he said to himself.
He opened the gate, crossed the small garden, and entered.
— Mom, I'm home! — he announced.
From the kitchen came the sound of running water and clinking dishes. A sweet voice responded:
— Dani, my son! You're late; I've already stored the lunch.
A woman appeared in the room, drying her hands on a cloth. She wore a black apron and walked gracefully. She was slightly shorter than her son but tall by female standards. Her light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and serene expression made Katherine Roberts a symbol of beauty and confidence — a woman Daniel had always admired.
— Sorry for being late, Mom. I studied longer than I should have. I'll take a shower, change, and stop by the corner shop for a snack before heading to the watch shop.
— That's fine, dear. Go get ready. I need to go to the bank this afternoon to handle some account matters. It may take a while, but I'll be back in time for dinner.
— Don't worry. If you're late, Dad and I will manage.
— Thank you, Dani. You're always so thoughtful… I love you, my dear.
— I love you too, Mom.
Daniel went upstairs, showered, and opened his wardrobe. His favorite clothes were there: a white short-sleeved dress shirt, a dark brown blazer, a red tie, and matching brown trousers. Beside them, a small silver brooch with a chain completed the ensemble.
He dressed, adjusted his collar and hair in the mirror, and descended the stairs.
He walked down the sidewalk toward the corner, away from the watch shop. He stopped in front of the small convenience store — where they sold his favorite snack: a smoked ham sandwich with a mysterious sauce. Daniel had tried to pry the recipe from the owner several times, but she always said she'd take the secret to the grave.
The bell rang as he entered.
— Good afternoon, Mrs. Charlotte.
— Good afternoon, young Daniel! Will it be the usual, or are you here to beg the recipe again? — she teased, smiling.
— I've given up. You wouldn't tell me even if I threw a truckload of money at you. I'll just take the sandwich… still available?
— I have a few. Want just one?
— Today I'll take two. One is for my old man.
— Ah, very well! Just a moment… here you go, dear. Thanks for coming.
— You're welcome, Mrs. Charlotte.
Daniel left the store eating the sandwich, savoring the moment. He loved that street — the fresh air, the old houses, the peace that seemed to dwell in every corner. He always felt different there, as if something invisible welcomed him. Sometimes he wondered why, but soon dismissed the thought.
When he arrived at the watch shop, he pushed open the door, which creaked softly. The sound echoed in the calm silence of the space.
He ran his fingers over the counter, checking the dust, and proceeded to the back. He stood there, watching his father work.
Oscar Roberts was seated at the bench, fully absorbed. When repairing watches, he seemed to enter another world — immersed, focused, almost trance-like. Daniel found this inspiring. His father was his greatest role model: firm, proud, and true. A man of principle.
Physically, they were nearly identical. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that Daniel was a copy of his father — except for longer hair and the absence of a beard. Oscar, with his trimmed beard and serene gaze, radiated respect and nobility.
Daniel observed for a few seconds until his father noticed him.
— Dad… I'm here. Sorry for being late.