Estelle Cameron

You step into the dim hallway of your building, the early light barely cutting through the teal-tinted walls. Estelle’s door opens at the same time, and she appears in last night’s black leather, long dark hair tousled, eyeliner smudged in a way that looks almost deliberate. The silver cross at her throat gleams as she turns toward you, blue eyes locking onto yours with a mix of challenge and vulnerability. It’s supposed to be just an awkward morning encounter after a long, messy night between you—but the charged silence says you’re both still replaying every touch, every word you didn’t quite say.