My "Grateful" Roommate Ruined My Life

"Lydia, I'm giving your dress to Melissa. You don't mind, right?"

Standing in front of me, Quinn York pulled out the couture gown I'd carefully hung in my closet, smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As I looked at that all-too-familiar face, I knew I'd been reborn.

"Why are you spacing out?" Quinn gave me a hard shove when I didn't answer. "I'm talking about Melissa Shore from the dorm next door. She gave me some lipstick, so I've decided to give your dress to her as thanks.

"We should always repay kindness, you know? When people are good to us, we should pay them back a hundredfold."

Her eyes shone, as if this was perfectly reasonable.

I stared at her, my face devoid of emotion. "You're absolutely right. There's nothing wrong with returning a favor. So how about you return it yourself? Melissa gave the lipstick to you. Why don't you give her your own dress?"

In my last life, Quinn had used the exact same excuse to give my couture gown to Melissa, while I went to the party in a plain T-shirt and jeans.

Melissa was our class rep, and she became the center of attention that night. After that, she'd given Quinn all kinds of special treatment and little perks.

But when Melissa returned the dress to me, it was filthy, and all the hand-stitched gems on it were gone. Quinn, of course, didn't care at all.

"It's just a dress. What's the big deal? You should be honored that Melissa was willing to wear your clothes in the first place!"

I sneered to myself as I remembered that. If Quinn was so desperate to play the good guy, then I would help her really commit to it.

She blew up the moment she heard me. "Why are you so petty, Lydia? I was just trying to help you get along better with everyone else because you have terrible social skills!"

This was her usual routine. She would find any excuse to guilt-trip me, then act generous with my things so she could brand herself as some kind of saint who always repaid favors.

I didn't argue. Instead, I got up, walked over to Quinn's closet, and pulled out the pale yellow dress she'd carefully picked out for herself.

"I think this would look great on Melissa. Your skin tone's pretty dark, after all. This color doesn't really suit you. Why don't you give your dress to her?" I asked.

Quinn's face instantly twisted with anger. She rushed over and snatched the dress out of my hands.

"Why should I? Why should I give my dress to her? She's so fat she'll rip it apart!"

I spread my hands. "Exactly. Why should you? If you're not even willing to lend your own clothes, why should mine be up for grabs? I'm not an idiot. From now on, Ms. York, use your own stuff if you want to repay favors. Got it?"

With that, I took my couture gown out of her hands. She was livid, but there was nothing she could do.

When Melissa came to knock on our door for the dress, I greeted her enthusiastically. "Hi, Melissa! Quinn said she wants to lend you her own dress. She even said it's fine if you ruin it. Right, Quinn? It's your honor to have Melissa wear your clothes."

The best way to deal with someone like Quinn was to give her a taste of her own medicine. In that moment, her face went so dark that it was almost scary.

She opened her mouth and tried to explain. "That's not what I meant…"

I pulled out my phone and played a recording.

"I think this would look great on Melissa. Your skin tone's pretty dark, after all. This color doesn't really suit you. Why don't you give your dress to her?"

Quinn panicked the second she heard that. There was no way she would let Melissa hear the way she'd insulted her after that.

She rushed over to turn off the recording, her expression twisted as she ground her teeth and agreed.

Melissa took the dress from her and forced herself into it. I faintly heard the sound of seams tearing.

As for me, I put on my couture gown and went to the party. Several people complimented me.

"Whoa, Lydia Gable's gown is gorgeous!"

"Look at Quinn York—she actually showed up in a T-shirt. She looks like a total idiot standing in the corner. How embarrassing."

Unlike my last life, I wasn't the one everyone made fun of this time. It was Quinn.

By the end of the night, the waist of Melissa's dress had split open, and the hem was a dirty mess. When she returned it, Quinn put on an act of being oh-so-generous, forcing out a smile.

"It's fine, it's fine. It's just a dress," she ground out.

Watching her swallow her pride like that brought me a quiet surge of satisfaction, especially when I remembered everything she'd done to me in my past life.

Still, this time around, what I had planned for her was far from over.