Kaleb felt the cold long before he reached the cabin.
Not the autumn kind — the kind that settled in your bones when you’d just told your nephew he had four days left with the woman he’d loved for most of his life. The kind that came from knowing you’d just helped someone break a heart that didn’t deserve breaking.
He trudged up the last incline, boots crunching over frost‑stiff pine needles. His breath fogged in the air. The cabin came into view — dark, quiet, familiar.
Except for the faint glow in the window.
And the silhouette sitting on his front steps.
Kaleb stopped walking.
Cherry.
She sat hunched forward, elbows on her knees, a small Tupperware container balanced in her lap. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, cheeks pink from the cold, eyes fixed on the ground like she was
