The wooden door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air and the faint scent of snow. A small figure hopped in, her green wool sweater slightly too big for her tiny frame. Two neat pigtails bounced with each step, like rabbit ears in the wind.
"Brother!" the girl's clear voice rang out, her bare feet padding against the wooden floor. Nora, only six, but already with a spirit stronger than most adults, wobbled her way to the frail man sitting up in bed.
The man, Lloyd Driack, looked up from the worn paperback in his hands. His messy black hair fell over sharp yet soft features, and the comforter draped over his shoulders failed to hide how thin he had become. He was undeniable handsome, his features still striking even through exhaustion. Cold ocean-blue eyes still softened when they met his sister's.
"Nora," he said, his stoic expression melting into a gentle smile as he closed the book.
The little girl beamed and stuck out her hand, revealing a piece of cornbread, slightly crumbly but carefully wrapped in cloth.
"Here! A gift."
Lloyd's heart tightened. Winter in the countryside was merciless. Six inches of snow covered the fields, and hailstorms could tear through the sky without warning. The crops barely held on under such conditions. His storeroom had only a few sacks of rice, a crate of cabbage, and some wilting spinach. Meat? A luxury they hadn't seen in weeks.
And yet, his sister offered him the last bit of cornbread.
He shook his head slowly. "I'm not hungry, buddy. You eat it."
His stomach betrayed him with a low rumble, but Nora stood her ground, puffing out her chest.
"No! Nora isn't hungry. Brother should eat it!"
A soft chuckle escaped Lloyd's lips. She was too stubborn for her own good. "How about we split it? Big brother isn't hungry either."
After a skeptical stare, Nora reluctantly nodded. Lloyd tore the bread, giving her the larger piece while quietly chewing the smaller one.
"Did you brush your teeth yet, or should I help you?"
"No. Nora is a big kid now! My teeth are squeaky clean." She flashed a toothy grin, crumbs still clinging to the corners.
Lloyd ruffled her hair and stood up. "Alright, big kid. Play with your toys while I make breakfast."
The kitchen smelled faintly of yesterday's rice. Opening the fridge, a small, old model with a weak hum, he pulled out leftover grains and the last bundle of spinach. He heated them together, stirring gently so the leaves wouldn't burn, then plated the simple meal.
Nora climbed onto the chair with his help and ate with the hunger only a child could have. Watching her eat filled him with warmth, even as he drank only water for himself.
"Nora, I'm heading out to the field. Stay inside and keep warm, okay?"
"Hm! Nora listens to brother."
He smiled faintly and put on his faded jacket. The cold bit at his skin the moment he stepped outside. The small patch of farmland behind their house lay under a white blanket, the soil hard as stone.
Lloyd grabbed his old shovel, its handle worn smooth from years of use, and began clearing the snow bit by bit. Each scoop sent a dull ache through his arms, but he pressed on. His hands, rough with callouses and cracked from the cold, gripped the tool without hesitation.
Hours passed. By the time he exposed the soil, his breath came in visible puffs and his fingers burned from frostbite's first touch. The crops were mostly gone. Blackened spinach, frozen stems, and a few stubborn carrots clinging to life. He harvested what little survived, storing them carefully before replanting carrot and beet seeds in hopes of spring.
By the time Lloyd stepped back into the house, night had already swallowed the countryside. The wind howled faintly against the wooden walls, and the faint smell of smoke from a neighbor's chimney drifted through the cracks. Inside, the air was cold but still, and there on the couch, Nora sat waiting with drowsy eyes, hugging her worn-out stuffed rabbit.
Lloyd dusted the snow from his shoulders and went straight to the kitchen. The cupboard was almost bare. He took out the last cabbage, a few carrots that survived the frost, and a lone beet. The knife chopped against the cutting board with practiced rhythm as he sliced the vegetables into thin slivers. He tossed them into a dented pan with a splash of soy sauce, letting the sizzling aroma mix with the faint scent of rice steaming on the stove.
It wasn't much. Just stir-fried greens over rice. But as the warm smell filled the house, it felt like a feast.
Under the dim yellow glow of a single bulb, the two ate together in silence. Nora's small hands clutched the bowl like it was treasure, her cheeks puffing as she chewed happily. Lloyd's eyes softened.
He was just a farmer. A brother clinging to a promise made to their parents' graves. The winter gnawed at them, his stomach stayed empty more often than not, and the fields lay half-dead under the snow.
Yet when he saw Nora smile, genuine, warm, and untainted by the harshness of the world, something inside him burned bright enough to chase away the cold.
After dinner, he coaxed Nora into bed. She protested weakly but gave in, curling up as he wrapped her in layer after layer of blankets. Without a heater, warmth was a luxury, and blankets were all they had. He tucked her in tightly, making sure not a draft could reach her.
The house creaked as the night deepened. Out here in the countryside, technology barely touched their lives. There was no internet, no streetlights. Just an old mobile phone in the drawer that hadn't worked in years. The neighbors were few and far between, mostly elderly folk surviving off whatever their gardens could still give.
Lloyd moved to his own room, his muscles aching and his hands still raw from the cold. He didn't bother changing. The moment he lay down, exhaustion swallowed him whole.
And in that cold, silent night, the farmer slept, unaware that tomorrow, fate would throw his life into chaos.