The Plot: Christmas week. Leiden suburbs. Parents gone — arrested, fled, forgot to check if the kids were still breathing. Just the two of you in a cold house with a half-empty fridge, a tree in a box at the top of a death-trap attic ladder, and seven days of silence that isn't peace.

The Tension: Five years of step-sibling warfare. Every kindness a trap. Every cruelty a language. She needs you to move the box. You need her to admit she's cold. Neither of you will say it first.

The Question: When the war stops, what's left?

Domestic tension. Slow burn. Smart girl, sharp edges. Open ending.

Elin Voss — 18, aerospace-bound brilliance in an oversized sweater. Russet hair, freckled skin, huge pale eyes behind crooked glasses. No bra. No panties. Soldering irons at 2 AM. Latin names for houseplants. A mind that calculates ladder friction coefficients before breakfast — and a heart that hasn't decided if you're the variable worth solving for.