Snow had consumed the world.
Weeks. Maybe longer. That's all they knew. They had been trapped in the villa for weeks. Days bled into each other, and no one really counted anymore. What was the point? Outside the storm raged as if it would never stop, and time moved differently inside of silence.
Frost always etched across the windows in the morning. Designs of white feather or spiderweb, intricate and cold. Mornings were quiet, and nights quieter. They had no television. No radio. Only the steady whir of the generator, the occasional bubble of a pot on the stove, and the distant sound of someone breathing in the dark.
They had become something like family. Something almost, but not quite. Greer was always first to rise. He didn't say much, but his actions spoke for him. Every morning before the sun, he'd pull on his coat and go out to shovel paths. Knee deep snow did not deter him. He also checked the generator, without being asked. When he returned, his hands were bright red and trembling, but he still brought someone a mug of hot water like it was no big deal.
Bryce had become their supply monitor. She sat at the kitchen table some mornings, scribbling in a wrinkled old notebook. "We have nine cans of beans, six bags of rice, and if Ellis keeps sneaking into the cupboard we're going to run out of powdered milk by Wednesday."
Ellis wouldn't even try to deny it. "I have a fast metabolism," he said one night, mouth full of crackers.
"Fast fingers," Mira said from the couch. She wore three sweaters and wrapped herself in two blankets, but still moaned about being cold. "Steal again, and I'll trade your socks for extra matches."
Ellis grinned, never insulted. "You just like threatening me."
"I like being warm," she retorted. "You're just in the way."
Tom was the youngest and quietest. But when it was good, his laughter was loudest of all. He had his own notebook, creased and dogeared with little drawings of their days. In his drawings, they were strong and cool and brave. None of them said it, but they liked how he saw them.
And then there was Julyah.
She didn't say much at first. She cooked sometimes. Cleaned without being asked. She brought herbs or jars from the cellar, things no one remembered putting away. She moved as if she had a hundred secrets, but no need to share them. Sometimes she would disappear into the greenhouse for hours. No one followed.
Ellis called her "the mystery angel".
Adrian didn't call her anything. But he noticed. He noticed everything.
She had a way of leaning in close when someone was sad or slipping a tin of salve into Mira's coat pocket when she thought no one was watching. But Adrian always watched.
It was Bryce who finally said what everyone had been thinking.
"You always seem to walk in when Julyah's around," he said, handing him a cup of melted snow one evening. "Funny, isn't it?"
Adrian didn't look up from his knife. He was slowly sharpening it, the blade glinting in the dim light. "She talks a lot."
"She talks when you're near," Bryce said. "Coincidence?"
Tom giggled. "He sits next to her at dinner now."
"Last week," Bryce continued, "he gave her the last cracker."
Ellis pressed a dramatic hand over his heart. "Was the last good cracker in the house. Adrian gave it to her. This is serious."
"The man is doomed," Mira said, sipping her soup. "Gone. Lost to romance."
Adrian stood up and set the knife down. He did not flinch, but the tips of his ears turned red. "I'll be outside."
"Tell her you love her!" Bryce called after him with a laugh.
Adrian didn't say anything. But Julyah had been standing in the hallway. She saw the set of his shoulders. She saw the small smile he tried to hide. When he walked past her, their eyes met.
She didn't say anything either.
But later that night, when she pressed a small square of honey candy into his palm from her pocket, he accepted it without a word. And she smiled, just a little.
The storm broke on the twenty-seventh morning.
There was no great sign. No crashing noise. No warning.
Silence.
For the first time in weeks, the wind didn't rage against the walls. The snow had stopped falling. The clouds had pulled back. Sunlight filtered through the windows and the whole house seemed to pause.
They all crowded by the greenhouse door, as Adrian turned the handle. The door groaned open.
Outside, the world was the same, but somehow different.
Trees were still and heavy with snow. The wind had died down. Everything glistened in the morning light. Air was sharp and cold but gentle in a way it hadn't been in a long time.
Bryce stepped outside and let out a low whistle. "We're still alive."
Ellis raised both arms like a champion. "I told you. I'm too handsome to die."
Tom laughed, jumping down the steps and falling into snow that was up to mid-calf. "Still deep."
"But it's calm," Mira said, stepping forward. "Smells clean."
"Smells like I need a shower," Ellis said, sniffing at himself. "Someone invent soap, quick."
Adrian didn't move. He just stood in the doorway, watching them. Watching the sky. Watching the world start to breathe again.
Julyah walked past him, her coat brushing against his arm.
Their hands touched.
She didn't stop. But she didn't pull away either.
And Adrian looked down at his hand like it was something new.
Silence had broken.
Not just the one outside, but the one between them all. Quiet had changed them. Softened some parts. Sharpened others.
The storm had taken a lot.
But they had also been given something they hadn't expected.
Each other.
And that morning, under a sky that finally showed the hint of blue, they all stepped forward.
Together.