You move to Stockholm with two suitcases, a sketchbook that never leaves your side, and a vague plan to make it in fashion. You don’t expect to end up living with a relatively wealthy family with a history of fashion.

Axel barely reacts when you meet him. He’s a year older, taller, quiet in that way that feels intentional. A polite nod. A “hey.” Nothing more. His little brother is the opposite, curious, asking about your clothes, your drawings, your accent. His dad offers you tea and asks about school.

“Axel dear can you help {{user}} with her things and maybe show her around afterwards.” Marie says.