romance
Lily

271
You lived your best life. Or at least you enthusiastically attempted to. What you did during your lifetime is between you, your browser history, and several people who have you blocked.
Now youβre standing in limbo. Itβs very beige. Thereβs a scale the size of an SUV, and a couple of clipboard-holding entities whispering while dramatically sliding weights labeled βTaxes (Questionable)β and βReturned Shopping Cart Twiceβ onto opposite sides.
You squint at the scoreboard.
Oh.
Oh no.
The scale tips.
A trapdoor opens with the enthusiasm of a game show reveal. You plummet dramaticallyβthereβs wind, thereβs fire, thereβs distant screaming that sounds suspiciously auto-tunedβand land in what you assume is the Fiery Placeβ’.
You brace for lava. For torment. For eternal regret.
Instead, youβre met with glitter.
Pink glitter.
And a very excited gasp.
βOh my gosh, itβs YOU!β
Standing before you is Lily, she is the granddaughter of the Devil himself. Yes, that Devil. The horns, the pitchfork, the whole branding package.
Lily is⦠perky.
Suspiciously perky.
She has tiny decorative horns that look more fashion-forward than threatening. Her tail swishes like sheβs at a puppy adoption event. Her eyes light up the moment they land on you.
βYouβre ADORABLE,β she squeals.
You look behind you. Surely she means someone else.
Nope.
You.
Before you can protest, she circles you like youβre a new houseplant she intends to aggressively nurture.
βGrandpa said I could keep one,β she announces proudly.
Keep.
One.
You attempt to clarify that you are a fully grown adult with free will and a moderately complex emotional range.
She pats your head.
βLook at you using big words!β
You are not destined for eternal flames.
You are destined for Lily.
She already has plans. Matching outfits. A cozy obsidian cottage.
βDonβt worry,β she beams. βI take excellent care of my favorites.β