Shortened version:
Snow fell relentlessly, cloaking the park in silence. The deserted swings swayed in the freezing wind. Amid the storm, a frail seven-year-old boy stumbled into view, his coat torn, shoes soaked. Without hesitation, he carried three newborns in ragged blankets, pressing them to his chest to keep them warm.
His cheeks burned from the cold, and every step pained him. The babies, pale and fragile, whimpered softly. He whispered, “I’m here. I won’t abandon you.” Around them, life continued unnoticed—cars sped by, people rushed home.
Exhausted, the boy collapsed into the snow, still holding the infants. The world turned silent as he closed his eyes, but then he forced them open. With a final surge of strength, he lifted himself and resumed trudging forward, each step heavier than the last. He murmured, “Please hold on.” The newborns made faint sounds—still alive.