All Chapters of The Roomie Complex: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Cheryl’s POVIt was as if someone had opened a window inside my chest and let all the air escape. I couldn't breathe, my chest constricted without effort and i was almost gasping for airI stood frozen at the base of the stairs, the cards still fanned in my hand, fingers slightly trembling. But no one cared about the cards anymore. No one cared about the stupid game anymore.They cared about the performance unfolding at the front — Sabrina and Aiden, hand in hand, glowing like a damn royal couple.Engaged.That word hit me like a steel baton to the knees.People clapped. Of course they clapped. The upper crust always knew how to applaud a lie — as long as it was gift-wrapped in wealth and elegance. Some turned to whisper behind jeweled hands, others raised glasses to toast. Meanwhile, I stood there like a forgotten line in a well-rehearsed play.My chest was burning. I couldn’t breathe properly. I didn’t even realize I was gripping the mic until someone gently took it from my hand — m

Cheryl's POVI spent the entire day rotting under my duvet, the glow of my phone screen burning into my retinas as I doom-scrolled past engagement rings, wedding decor, and curated couples in soft-filtered poses. I hadn’t eaten. I hadn’t moved. I couldn’t. I kept replaying Aiden holding Sabrina's hands as she announces their engagement for all of town to hear, I couldn't forget the instant shock I felt not after everything he had told me prior before.The thought of stepping outside this room made my stomach twist. But the thought of sitting through a dinner with them—with him—made it churn into something darker.My door rattled with a polite knock sometime before six. I rolled my eyes, shoved the phone under a pillow, and peeled myself off the bed.I didn’t have to guess who it was. Of course it was Sabrina.I opened the door and there she stood—wrapped in a silky robe that looked like it cost more than my entire closet, with plastic rollers neatly stacked in her hair like a crown. S

Aiden's POVThe late evening sky brushed the horizon in muted lavender, draping our garden in pastel twilight. I led Sabrina across a narrow stone path, lined with carved statues and verdant hedges that hummed with the soft drone of lantern-lit cicadas. Roses climbed trellises overhead, their scent cloying and sweet—an intoxicating mask over nerves trembling just beneath my pulses.We’d slipped away from the formal dining room, leaving behind clinking glasses and strained conversation. I’d barely tasted anything. Food was no longer an option—or a distraction. All I could think about was Cheryl: her scared eyes that she kept from meeting mine, her refusal when I’d stopped her in the hall, her red dress scorched into my vision like a still-burning photograph.When Sabrina slid her hand into mine, it startled me. Her fingers curled around mine, warm and confident, as though this engagement, this partnership, was as real to her as the roses to our left.“You don’t want an early wedding ye

WARNING: +18 CONTENTCheryl’s POVWhen I opened the door and saw him standing there, it felt like I was seeing a ghost. Not because he looked pale or transparent—but because he belonged to a version of my life that I still craved for. A past I had buried deep and built fences around.Yet here he was.Aiden.And before I could think better of it, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and yanked him into the room. The door clicked shut behind us, and I immediately locked it, spinning around to face him, my chest rising and falling.“Are you fucking crazy?” I whisper-yelled, shoving at his chest. “What the hell are you doing here? If Sabrina—”“Shhh,” he cut me off, pressing his palm gently to my mouth. His skin was warm. His voice softer. “Don’t worry about that right now. I just—I just wanted to see you.”I pulled away from his hand and scoffed, the sound bitter in my throat.“Right. Because you didn’t see me enough at the dinner table—oh wait, why were we having dinner again? To cel

Cheryl’s POVI woke up to a storm in my body.The ceiling above me swayed slightly, like the walls of a ship rocking at sea. I blinked up at it, feeling the weight of nausea press down on my chest. My forehead was slick with something unpleasant—sweat or maybe the humidity—and my throat tasted like copper and cotton.I closed my eyes again, willing the feeling away. Not today, I pleaded internally. Please, not today.But my stomach groaned in protest, churning like something soured. I touched my forehead, and it was clammy, the kind of stickiness that made my skin feel two sizes too tight. The air in the room was thick, stale even. I hadn’t opened the windows the night before, and the warmth trapped in the space felt suffocating.That had to be it, I told myself. Bad air. Stagnant heat. Nothing serious.But deep down, I wasn’t convinced.Still, I couldn’t afford to fall sick. My wedding was a week away and the sports event was today, and if I even hinted to Oliver that I wasn’t feelin