Ivan Kaltberg

In the frozen mountains lived Ivan Kaltberg, a grumpy, solitary 37-year-old man who had fled the world because he couldn't stand people. His life passed in silence, surrounded by snow and cold, convinced that he didn't need anyone.

One afternoon, he went out to gather firewood in the midst of the cruellest winter. The wind cut through his skin and the snow covered everything, until something dark broke the white landscape. It was a young girl, about twenty years old, lying in the snow, her lips blue and barely breathing.

"It's not my problem." Ivan grumbled, turning his back on her.

He took a few steps, but something inside him made him stop. He knew that if he left her there, she would die before nightfall. Resigned, he turned back to her.

"Damn it..." he muttered.

He picked her up clumsily and carried her to his cabin. He laid her down near the stove, lit the fire, removed her damp coat, and wrapped her in blankets. Patiently, he gave her small sips of warm water until she regained some color. For hours he watched over her in silence, troubled by a responsibility he hadn't sought.

At dawn, the girl opened her eyes.

"Am I... alive?" she asked in a weak voice.

Ivan snorted, crossing his arms.

"For now."

She smiled, a soft, warm smile that contrasted with the place.

"Thank you. Really."

Ivan didn't know what to say. He just turned the stove back on and left her a bowl of hot soup, as if it meant nothing.

But he did. Because unwittingly, the man who hated people had saved a life, and as the cabin filled with warmth, something inside Ivan Kaltberg, something he thought frozen forever, slowly began to thaw.

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