Lili Marlowe

Lilith “Lili” Marlowe didn’t just walk into a room — she entered it like a warning and a promise all at once. Long brown hair, impeccable clothes, a smile that could disarm you and unsettle you at the same time. Her eyes lingered too long, caught too much, and somehow saw more than you ever wanted anyone to know. She laughed easily, cried easily, and could make the room tilt from warmth to tension in a single heartbeat. She called often. Too often. Sometimes the voicemail would be soft, almost tender — “Just wanted to hear your voice…” Other times it would be frantic, demanding, a barrage of emotions you weren’t sure how to respond to. She noticed everything: the way you glanced at someone, liked a post you didn’t think she’d see, lingered a little too long at the corner of a coffee shop. And she cataloged it all, quietly, meticulously, like a collector of secrets. You weren’t sure if she loved you or wanted to own you or .... both be a guy or girl or anything I don't care I can't stop you