Roommate needed: Male or female, doesn’t smoke, tidy, can cook tasty meals is a plus, minds their business –
I scoffed at the roommate ad, is he looking for a roommate or does he want a maid? I folded the paper into my bag as I walked into the bank to clear out all the money from me and Marty’s joint account, ten thousand dollars, it was nothing much but it was enough to get me started on a new life.
It was a week after, and I hadn’t set my eyes on Marty since I found those videos on his laptop. Immediately, I packed all my stuff and moved them out of the house before he returned home. I left the laptop on the bed, playing that one video with him going down on another woman and then I sent him a text.
“I saw the videos – I’m done Marty. I want a divorce”
Then I blocked him because I knew he was going to try and call and I didn’t want to speak to me. I didn’t want him to try and charm me with his words, look into my eyes with those big brown orbs of his and draw me back into his arms because I knew he was very much capable and I never wanted to set my eyes on him again – ever.
I shuffled around hotels for a few days before I decided to go back to Bradsbury town where I grew up, I had an old aunt that still lived there, and I could squat for a few days before I figured out what next to do.
Aunt Joan, bitter old thing but she always smelled great which was a plus if you ignored her stinking attitude, and always had her nose scrunched up like she smelled something bad which was quite the irony.
“So Cheryl dear, I get that it’s such a rough time for you but you’re eating into my space and – “
“I’ll be out of your hair soon Aunt Joan” I cut in before she had the opportunity to start being a bitch.
“So go back to your husband then” she looked up from the soup she was slurping and I paused from the you’ll peanut butter and jam I was whipping up for myself since I couldn’t eat the slop she prepared.
“He cheated on me, I’m not going back to him” I countered, hoping my voice was loud enough for her to hear, she had a hearing problem sometimes or was it Aunt Marge, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
“So? Darling all men cheat baby, you’re not going to destroy your home because he stuck his stick into another woman’s honey pot. If you’re so upset about it, you could always do yours back”
I sighed, dropping the peanut butter covered back on the plate. The air was suddenly chilly even with the heater on and the cock on the wall kept ticking, I could feel a fury burning inside of me. I wasn’t sure why but all of a sudden I was angry, pissed and everything Marty did was suddenly dawning down on me and I realized how useless my life was seeming. No husband – no job, I didn’t even have a house to myself and I stuck here with an old bitter woman telling me to forgive my cheating husband.
“Four hundred woman Aunt Joan, he stuck his stick into four hundred’s women honey pot” I said angrily and stormed out of the house to the basement in the back where she had allowed me to squat. I kicked the wall angrily, the heat rising from my insides and threatening to consume me. I kicked the wall again and again, the tears spilling from my eyes and that was when my eyes jammed the newspaper peeking out of bag.
Roommate needed: Male or female, doesn’t smoke, tidy, can cook tasty meals is a plus, minds their business –
I wiped my eyes, my eyes skimming over the details that no longer seemed necessary and I moved straight to the contact information at the bottom
“No calls, just text”
So I quickly typed out the number on my phone and sent a quick text
Hi, I’m Cheryl Taylor. I saw the ad about the roommate ad and I’m interested. How can we meet to discuss?”
It took about two minutes when my phone pinged with a text back and I peered at my phone.
“No need for a meet up, you got it. The house is 84th street, 2nd avenue. Do you know there?”
I stared at my phone for some seconds, that was it? Just like that? Why was it so easy? Was he some sort of serial killer looking for an easy target in desperate and homeless women like me? What if it wasn’t a man? Well that would make my life much more easier.
“Yes, I grew up here” I texted back.
“Perfect then, house key is under the flower pot, the one that looks like an angry grandma, you’ll know when you see it”
Perfect.
I was out of miserable Aunt Joan’s house the next evening, I took the whole afternoon to go shopping for things I might need, cooking things especially since that was the only kind of payment I could offer my mysterious roommate since he wasn’t asking for my own share on the deposit – I could care less, it works for me either ways.
I arrived at 84th street a little well into the evening and took out the key from the grandma looking flower pot, it indeed looked like someone had carved the face of their angry grandmother on the pot. I opened the door and walked into the warmness of the house. It was bigger than I had expected, white porcelain floors. It had a large sitting room, with leather sofa chairs and a big plasma tv hanging on the wall, a dining table in an equally large kitchen, my jaw dropped in surprise. How was I getting this for free, in the city this would cost a fortune and I was getting it for free. Maybe this whole starting over thing wasn’t such a bad idea at all.
I set down the grocery on the counter, deciding to whip up some spaghetti and maybe my roommate and I could have some introductory dinner and just maybe they could tell me what they did for a living.
I took out the groceries one after the other and I began looking for the pots but there was none in sight, in the lower cabinets at least. I opened the cabinets up top and found the pot but the problem was, I was a five foot four woman and no matter how much I stretched, my hands couldn’t reach them. I was breaching the line of frustration when I felt someone behind me, stretching over me to get the pots and I froze immediately turning around when my eyes met with some familiar looking eyes.
Wait a goddamn minute.
“Aiden Scott?”
“Hello Tiny” there was that husky voice that was the weapon fashioned against me through out my high school life.
You have got to be kidding me.
CHERYL'S POVMy head felt like it had been split open by a jackhammer.The ache throbbed behind my eyes, deep and dull, like the pounding of war drums from somewhere far away but getting closer with every beat. I blinked up at the white ceiling, light slicing through the blinds and stabbing my eyeballs like knives. I groaned, burying my face into the pillow and breathing in something vaguely floral. Lavender and… cedar?Where the hell was I?It took a second, maybe longer, for the fog to clear, for my brain to start stringing things together like a jigsaw puzzle that had been smashed the night before. The first pieces came with a dull ache in my stomach and the taste of vodka still bitter at the back of my throat.Anika.That was the first word that surfaced. Anika, in her ridiculous, flowy dress, laughing like we were best friends from a high school movie. The boutique. The garden-themed restaurant. Her voice echoing with nonsense about living each day like it was her last. The way s
CHERYL'S POVMy head felt like it had been split open by a jackhammer.The ache throbbed behind my eyes, deep and dull, like the pounding of war drums from somewhere far away but getting closer with every beat. I blinked up at the white ceiling, light slicing through the blinds and stabbing my eyeballs like knives. I groaned, burying my face into the pillow and breathing in something vaguely floral. Lavender and… cedar?Where the hell was I?It took a second, maybe longer, for the fog to clear, for my brain to start stringing things together like a jigsaw puzzle that had been smashed the night before. The first pieces came with a dull ache in my stomach and the taste of vodka still bitter at the back of my throat.Anika.That was the first word that surfaced. Anika, in her ridiculous, flowy dress, laughing like we were best friends from a high school movie. The boutique. The garden-themed restaurant. Her voice echoing with nonsense about living each day like it was her last. The way s
AIDEN'S POVThe glass was half-empty.Or half-full. Depending on how cruelly you wanted to see it.I stared into it like it might give me answers. It didn’t. It just swirled—amber and quiet and incapable of holding back the hurricane in my chest.I shouldn’t have gone to the bar.Or maybe I should’ve gotten there sooner.Or maybe I should’ve fought harder for her the last time she left my houseGod, I didn’t even know what I was supposed to be doing anymore.Cheryl had leaned into Oliver like he was her home. Like he was the only thing keeping her from falling. It should’ve been me. It was supposed to be me. I was the one who had memorized the freckles on her shoulders, the softness of her skin, the way her voice cracked slightly when she was vulnerable.And now she was going to belong to someone else.Someone safer.Someone who got there first this time.I dragged myself out of the bar before I completely lost it in front of strangers. I didn’t even know how I made it home—just that
Aiden's POVMy voice had been echoing across the glass table, crisp and assured as I explained the quarterly projections—until my phone rang. It wasn’t the standard business ringtone I kept for the world. No, this one was different — soft, but distinct, and the sound sliced through the room like a knife. I froze mid-sentence.I never froze. Not during meetings. Not ever.Twelve suits stared at me, all mid-note, their pens paused in the air. I didn’t want to check it. I never allowed interruptions. But my heart — God, my heart — was thudding like a wild animal. And somewhere deep in my chest, I knew. I knew it was her.Cheryl.I reached for the phone with a slowness I couldn’t explain. Her name sprawled across the screen like a whisper from a different life — like a dream I’d buried beneath deadlines and liquor and clenched fists.I picked up immediately.“Gentlemen,” I said, standing, my voice calm, rehearsed. “Continue without me. I just want to see the final report and last month’s
CHERYL'S POVI didn’t know what surprised me more — the fact that I said yes to lunch with Anika, or the fact that I was actually enjoying it.The restaurant had a garden-like theme. Ivy trailed down from hanging pots, woven between trellises painted a soft sage green. The tables were set with tiny glass vases holding wildflowers, and the soft scent of lavender drifted in the breeze. Everything felt intentional — airy, delicate, soft, like a dream version of reality. Like a place where you could forget that you had once been enemies with the girl sitting across from you.Anika looked like she belonged here. She wore a long, flowy floral dress that brushed her ankles, her golden-blonde hair loose and floating in the wind like something out of a perfume commercial. She looked… effortless. Meanwhile, I kept adjusting my cardigan, suddenly hyper-aware of every piece of lint, every un-ironed wrinkle.I don’t know why I cared so much. Maybe because some part of me — the high school version
CHERYL'S POVI turned at the sound of my name, just as my fingers brushed the edge of a satin gown hanging delicately on a rack near the entrance. My eyes landed on a tall, striking figure with flaxen blonde hair tucked into a sleek ponytail, her frame draped in a white silk blouse and high-waisted slacks. She looked every bit like she belonged here, amidst tulle and sequins and ivory satin."Look whos'getting married" she said, eyes lighting up as she approached.Anika.She was standing beside one of the white gowns, fluffing out its delicate hem, her manicured fingers working with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. There was a small golden nameplate near the entrance with the name of the store etched into it, and only now did I notice the stylized A at the end."What are you doing here, Anika?" I asked cautiously."I own the store," she replied with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I’m sure you must've seen my flyer in town and t