There’s something strangely healing about building something with your hands, especially when it’s for yourself.

The studio was finally coming together. Tripods, soundproofing panels, and ring lights were scattered across the room like puzzle pieces. My new kitchen island gleamed under soft lighting. There was a faint smell of fresh wood and paint, a clean start in every breath.

Sophia lay flat on the floor, fanning herself dramatically with the user manual for the camera rig. “I’m ...