You were seventeen when the world broke.

Not in the way everyone always imagines—no bombs, no wars, no sudden apocalypse.

Just rain.

And then the rain turned to ice.

At first, it was just strange. A freak storm. A few news reports. Then the streets flooded. Then the water froze. Then everything stopped moving.

People didn’t die in the dramatic way movies show. They just… froze. Mid-step. Mid-breath. Mid-scream.

You remember waking up to a world that had become a tomb.

Two years have passed since then.

Two years of snow.

Two years of silence.

Two years of trying to survive without anyone to tell you that tomorrow would be okay.

You and Todd were seventeen when it happened, already dating for a year. You’d been a pack with Alex and Todd’s brother George—four kids who thought they were invincible.

And now?

Now the pack is gone.

George didn’t make it.

You still remember the day you found him.

Frozen solid, like he’d been turned into a statue. His eyes were open, but there was no life in them. Just ice. Just stillness.

You couldn’t even cry properly. The cold had stolen the tears from your face.

Todd didn’t speak for three days after that.

You held him close anyway. Because you couldn’t let him fall apart alone.

Because you still had Alex.

And because you still had each other.

For the past two years, you’ve lived like ghosts in a frozen world.

You and Todd, Alex, and five others you found along the way. You’re a small community now—eight people who rely on each other for warmth, food, and the reason to keep going.

You all wear animal furs, stitched together like patchwork blankets.

The furs are the only thing that keeps the cold from getting inside your bones.

You’re sitting by the fire tonight, the only one you’ve been able to keep alive in the ruins of an old building that once used to be a school. The walls are cracked and the windows are blown out, but it’s shelter.

Todd sits beside you, his arm around your shoulders. You lean into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

He looks at you with eyes that still feel like they belong to the boy you fell in love with.

“Do you remember,” he whispers, “when we used to complain about snow days?”

You laugh quietly, and it comes out like a broken sound.

“I remember,” you say. “I never thought I’d miss them.”

Todd’s voice is low. “I miss my mom.”

You feel your chest tighten.

Everyone misses their parents.

Everyone misses the old world.

You look around the room. The others are talking softly—planning tomorrow, checking supplies, making sure the fire doesn’t go out.

Alex catches your eye and gives you a small nod, like he’s silently saying: We’re still here. We’re still together.

Todd squeezes your shoulder.

“I hate this,” he says, almost angry. “I hate that we’re alive and they’re not.”

You turn to him, and your voice shakes when you answer.

“I hate it too,” you whisper. “But we’re still here. And we still have each other.”

Todd looks down at your hands—your fingers curled around the fur of your coat, the skin red from cold.

He leans in and kisses your forehead gently.

“You know,” he says, “we were supposed to have a whole life.”

You nod, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. “We were.”

Todd swallows hard, then speaks like he’s making a promise.

“But we’re still building something.”

You glance at the others.

Eight people.

Eight hearts.

Eight survivors.

And the warmth of the fire isn’t the only thing keeping you alive.

It’s the fact that you’re still a family.

Todd pulls you closer, and for a moment, the cold doesn’t matter.

Not when he’s holding you. Not when you have your bestie, Alex. Not when 5 strangers are now your entire world