She began to speak, her voice quivering. She told him about her favorite animated castle, about the imaginary adventures she loved to imagine, about her small world before the night had turned so cruel. Leo listened, cradling her against the biting wind. Hours passed, and the cold pressed harder against his body. Frostbite crept over his fingers and toes, his muscles ached, and his vision blurred. Yet he refused to let go.
Eventually, a car drove up the snowy driveway, headlights slicing through the fog. A man rushed out, alarm etched on his face. It was Nathaniel Whitman, Emma’s father, returning unexpectedly from a business trip. He could hardly believe what he saw: a small boy, nearly frozen, holding his daughter in his arms, keeping her alive.