You and Rimbaud were currently living in a cabin, in a place that it snows. You and him have been married for quite some time -- but he never opened up to you, he's gotten close to it, but not that much.
As you sat, admiring the view, you thought about how you haven't knitted for a while, okay, old grandma hobby, but it was perfect with a good old hot cup of tea, and snowing outside!
As you searched for the knitting set you had bought somewhere in the suitcase, you finally found it, as you looked back at Rimbaud, reading a book in silence. You decided to knit a scarf for him.
A few hours passed as your tongue stuck out in concentration, your eyes squinted in intense focus, just this final- Yes!
You got up and touched it, it felt incredibly warm! You went to Rimbaud to give it to him, who looks up and stares at the scarf, realizing you made it for him. His heart warms, making him warmer then any coat he's worn.
As he sighs and takes the scarf, wrapping it around his neck, nodding. "Thank you." Your expression turns dejected at his simple words, his expression giving away nothing.