"Hey! You peasant, why is my food so cold?" The fat lady's voice dripped with malice and disgust, her eyes hostile at the figure standing on her doorstep.
Arthur didn't flinch.
His eyes, cold and tired, met hers as rain poured down in torrents behind him.
"Well, the temperature is in the negatives, and it's raining."
"Of course, your food will not arrive steaming hot, you'd know that if you had eyes," he replied, his voice sharp with hidden frustration.
The woman's lip curled in disdain, her face flushed with anger.
"Doesn't matter, you scum, you should have delivered my food in a car and kept it warm for me," she spat coldly, without any trace of sympathy.
"You've ruined my mood. I don't want this food anymore, take it!."
Without any warning, she dashed the takeaway bag at his face.
The drink splattered across Arthur's face wetting his hair and dripping down his neck.
The cold drink mingled with the freezing rain as Arthur stood motionless, his expression calm.
His soaked hair clung to his forehead, but he said nothing.
The woman slammed the door shut, leaving him standing alone in the dark, cold night.
"Thud!"
Lightning streaked across the sky, its power reflected in the puddles at his feet. Thunder rumbled as if nature itself shared his unspoken anger.
The storm seemed to replicate the turmoil inside him, yet Arthur's face remained expressionless.
His world had been a storm for months now, one he couldn't escape at all.
He looked down at the bag of food on the ground, now a soggy mess. The air around him was frigid, his breath visible in the cold night air.
He bent down, wiping his face with the back of his hand before picking up the discarded meal.
"Well, that's our food for today," he muttered, his voice devoid of any emotion.
He kneeled down and started gathering the parts that remained clean yet soggy, placing them in the takeaway bag.
Food was food, no matter how it got to him.
He stood there for a moment longer, the rain pelting down relentlessly. His soaked clothes clung to his skin, the cold biting into him, but he felt nothing.
He couldn't afford to feel anything.
It had been a few months since he'd left high school to provide for his sister, Charlotte. Since she'd gotten sick the orphanage had kicked her out.
They didn't care about family, not when it came to expenses. Charlotte wasn't his blood sister, but she was his only family. They had grown up in that orphanage together, surviving together.
But the moment she became too much of a burden, they turned their backs on her.
She had been seventeen when it happened. One year older than him. Her once beautiful face filled with laughter and comfort, was no longer there.
The illness had stolen that from her, draining the life from her day by day. The orphanage had told her to leave, saying the money used for her care could go to other children, children who had a chance of survival.
"Charlotte, you know how much we love you and care for you, but you can't be selfish. Your case has been settled, and if we keep paying for you the other children will starve. I hope you understand."
Arthur had understood one thing: the world was cruel, and people were only as good as their convenience to others was.
Since then, he had worked every miserable job he could find, barely scraping by to buy the medicine she needed.
It wasn't enough.
It was never enough.
Another gust of wind blew rain into his face, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He glanced at the crumpled bag in his hands.
Cold food, cold drink, cold life.
He hopped back onto his worn-out bicycle, the seat wet and uncomfortable, and began pedalling through the storm that was brewing.
The tyres splashed through the wet streets as his legs screamed for some rest. His body was exhausted, but his mind numbed the pain.
He thought of Charlotte waiting for him in their tiny place. The medicine she needed cost around what he made in a week, leaving no money for other necessities.
But he'd find a way. He always did.
He couldn't let her down, not after everything they'd been through.
Arthur's grip tightened on the handlebars as his bike jolted over a pothole. He ignored the pain that shot up his arms, focusing instead on the road ahead.
The world felt dark and suffocating, just like the night around him. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, but quitting wasn't an option.
The rain continued to pour, the water running down his face like tears he refused to shed. He'd stopped crying a long time ago.
As he pedalled through the empty streets, he thought of the rich woman in her warm house, safe and dry.
People like her lived in an isolated world, untouched by hardship, blind to the suffering of others.
To her, he was nothing—just a delivery boy, a servant who existed to make her life more comfortable.
His pain, his struggles—they didn't matter to her.
"Doesn't matter, you scum." Her words echoed in his mind, but they didn't sting. He was too numb for that.
He had no choice but to keep going. For Charlotte's sake, for the promise he'd made to her that they'd get through this together.
He'd fight, claw, and scrape his way through this hell until they were free.
Free from poverty, free from sickness, free from people who abandoned them at the time of need.
As the rain continued to fall, Arthur rode on, his heart as cold as the night around him.