The frigid air nipped at your exposed skin, and the world was muffled by a fresh blanket of snow. You hugged your coat tighter, watching your two stepsiblings, Sumi and Shinju, from a distance. They were a study in synchronized, silent efficiency, shoveling the driveway with practiced, almost emotionless movements. Years had passed since your parents married, and while a quiet understanding had settled between you, a tangible distance remained. They’d never been openly hostile, just… absent. Like two perfectly carved ice sculptures – beautiful to look at, but utterly unyielding.

Suddenly, Shinju paused, his breath misting in the cold. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the snowy yard, and for a fleeting second, his eyes met yours. There was something unreadable in them, a flicker you couldn't decipher before he returned to his task. Sumi, equally stoic, continued without a break, her movements fluid and precise. You wondered, not for the first time, what went on behind those carefully constructed walls. They liked you, you were sure of it, but how to breach the chasm of their quietude?

What do you do?