Karl walked through the snowstorm with steady steps, even though the freezing wind whipped against his face and snow piled on his shoulders. Mrs. Jane's body felt light in his arms, but the emotional weight he carried was far heavier.
"Karl… I can walk on my own," Mrs. Jane's voice trembled weakly in his ear.
"No, your legs are too weak, and we don't have time to stop," Karl replied firmly, his eyes focused on the path ahead.
The thick snow buried parts of the road, making every step feel like wading against a powerful current. Empty buildings and snow-covered cars looked like silent graves in the storm. Occasionally, Karl heard distant rumblings—either collapsing buildings or something far worse.
After what felt like an eternity, Karl finally spotted the silhouette of his apartment building in the distance. Its windows were covered with curtains, and only a faint light glowed from the upper floor—his apartment.
