The Roomie Complex のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 130

Aiden’s POVIt was the memory of her lips that haunted me most.Soft. Warm. The way they’d trembled under mine that night in her room, like they hadn’t been kissed in a long time—or like they had, but only by someone who didn’t know how. That kiss had branded me in a way I couldn’t quite explain. Not with logic. Not with reason. Only the ache that stayed in my chest whenever I saw her since.That night I snuck into her room had been reckless, maybe even stupid. But it was the only time since I lost her that I felt alive again.And now, here I was, at some goddamn community sports event, with her just a few feet away—but it might as well have been a continent.I spotted her the moment she got out of the car. Even though Sabrina had me by the wrist like some display doll, even though there were dozens of people milling about in bright shirts and tennis skirts, I only saw her.She was pale. Too pale. Her skin had this faint sheen like it was too tight across her bones. Her hand trembled

CHERYL'S POVWhen my eyes fluttered open, the first thing that hit me was the scent—familiar and calming. My room. Lavender and something warm, musky—Oliver’s cologne, faint in the sheets.I was home.My body felt heavy, like I’d been under for hours. My head throbbed faintly behind my eyes, but it was dull now, not stabbing. The nausea that had gripped my stomach at the field had quieted into a sour echo. Manageable.I shifted slightly.I wasn’t alone.When I turned, Oliver was there beside me, slumped against the headboard, still dressed in the sports clothes from earlier. His arms were folded, and his mouth slightly parted in sleep. A lock of blond hair had fallen across his forehead, softening his usual hard angles. He looked… peaceful.I lay still for a moment, watching him. Breathing beside him.I didn’t know what I was waiting for.Permission, maybe.To feel something.When he stirred and blinked awake, the concern rushed into his eyes so fast it startled me. He reached out ins

AIDEN'S POVThe air inside my car was still.Not warm. Not cold. Just still—like the breath before a bullet.I’d parked a few meters from the old lumber mill, far enough not to alert anyone lurking inside. My fingers were clenched around the steering wheel, though I barely felt the texture. The engine had long since cooled, but my blood was still hot. Adrenaline dripped like poison in my veins, steady and cold.I should’ve gotten out by now.I should’ve moved.But my body refused to obey, not because I was afraid of Alejandro. No—I was prepared to kill him. Had played it out in my mind a thousand times. He was the last thread tethering me to a past I was desperate to sever.But what I hadn’t prepared for… was Cheryl.She’d come to my house.My house.She had stood on my porch, just a wall away from where I sat on the floor with my head in my hands. I’d heard her voice clear as day, even before she rang the bell. Even muffled by the door, I could feel her. Her presence—loud, devastatin

CHERYL'S POVThe morning sun filtered through the white lace curtains like soft kisses from a world I no longer felt part of.The garden outside was already set up. I could see it clearly from the window of the bridal suite — rows of crisp white chairs arranged like little soldiers on green manicured grass, petals scattered along the aisle in elegant waves of blush and cream, an archway wrapped in lavender vines, lilies, and peonies standing like some divine gate to a future I wasn’t sure I wanted.I was dressed.The wedding gown was satin and lace — a fitted silhouette that hugged my body like it knew every secret I was trying to hide. The neckline dipped into a tasteful sweetheart shape, the lace sleeves off-the-shoulder and delicate. The train fanned behind me like a story written in white, cascading embroidery that shimmered softly under the natural light. Pearls traced the edges of the corset bodice, and every time I looked down at it, I felt like I was being buried under beauty.

Aiden’s POVMy hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly as I drove. The leather beneath my palms felt like it might rip. I was dressed in a tuxedo—black, tailored, expensive. But beneath the fine fabric, my chest was still a warzone. I hadn’t slept. Not really. My jaw still throbbed from where a piece of shrapnel or maybe a wild elbow had caught me last night. There was a shallow cut on the corner of it. I'd barely had time to slap a bandage over it.But it wasn’t the wound that was eating at me. It was the way everything had gone down.The night still looped in fragments in my mind, almost unreal.Alejandro. The gun. Damon behind me. My knees pressing into cold concrete. Alejandro’s finger tightening on the trigger.The click of death waiting.And then the first shot rang out.I didn’t feel anything at first—no pain, no impact. I thought I was dead already.But then I turned.Damon crumpled beside me, a bullet lodged clean between his eyes. His body hit the floor with a finality