All Chapters of The Roomie Complex: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

(Cheryl’s POV)I slid back into the booth and forced a smile. My heart was clenching tightly behind my chestAiden was watching me. His fingers toyed with the rim of his glass, eyes scanning my face like he was reading a language he half-understood. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t let anything show.“You okay?” he asked.I nodded, reached for my drink, and took a long sip of lemonade I couldn’t even taste. “Yeah,” I lied. “Just needed a moment.”He didn’t press. Maybe he didn’t want to ruin the night. Maybe he didn’t want to admit that he saw something crack in me the second I walked back. Or maybe... maybe he knew exactly who I ran into.“Ready to head out soon?” he asked gently, like I was made of glass.I smiled again. A little tighter this time. “Sure. I feel a bit dizzy” which was in fact the truth.We left the bar not long after. The air outside was crisp, cool enough to raise goosebumps on my arms, but I barely noticed. Aiden slid his jacket off and wrapped it around my shoulders witho

(Cheryl’s POV)Morning came in slow, heavy waves. I blinked against the pale light leaking through the curtains and shifted slightly under the sheets. The space beside me was cold. Still untouched. Aiden hadn’t come to bed.I stared at the ceiling for a while, trying not to think. Not about Bianca. Not about the way Aiden's voice had tightened last night. Not about how the silence between us had suddenly become louder than any argument ever could be.But of course, my mind betrayed me.You don’t know him like I do.Bianca’s voice echoed again, low and smug, curling around my thoughts like smoke. The way she said it, the way she’d looked at me — not with pity, but certainty — it had planted a seed I couldn’t shake.I closed my eyes again, hoping for sleep to drag me back under, but it didn’t come. Only more thoughts. More doubts. More of that damn bathroom scene, playing on loop.With a frustrated sigh, I sat up and pushed the covers aside. The air was cooler than expected, like the a

CHERYL'S POVThe sun was still up when I left the bar, but everything felt darker.I walked faster than I meant to, like if I didn’t get home quickly enough, the weight of what I just heard might catch up and pull me down into the pavement. I didn’t cry. Couldn’t. I think I was too stunned for that — like my body hadn’t gotten the message yet that my heart had just shattered into a thousand quiet pieces.Aiden had a son.A whole son.A four-year-old.And not just that — a wife. A past he conveniently called a “situation” in passing, one that had apparently involved vows, and a marriage, and sex that created a child who now existed in this world — breathing, laughing, probably asking questions no one was answering.And yet, when I asked about Bianca, Aiden shut down like I’d pried into something I had no business knowing.You can’t completely trust him.Bianca’s voice echoed in my head like a record stuck on repeat. He’s going to leave you. He always does.No matter how much I tried to

CHERYL'S POVI didn’t pack much.Just a bag and the pieces of myself I could gather without falling apart.Aiden didn’t stop me.He didn’t beg. Didn’t plead.He just stood there with that stormy look in his eyes — guilt and resignation and maybe hope, all braided into silence.Hope that maybe I’d come back.I didn’t say I wouldn’t.I just said I needed space.Space to breathe. Space to scream.Space to figure out who the hell I was now that everything I thought I knew had been shattered.The hotel wasn’t far. Just a fifteen-minute drive across the bridge. But it felt like a different country. One where my heart hadn’t been cracked open by a man who had a whole secret life hiding behind his smile.I paid for two nights upfront.The girl at the front desk smiled like I was on vacation.I smiled back like I wasn’t falling apart inside.Room 708 smelled like vanilla and fresh linen. Neat, neutral, clean — nothing like the chaos clawing at my ribs.I sat on the bed.Then stood.Then paced.

AIDEN'S POVShe said she needed space.She said it so softly, like a request instead of a goodbye. But the way her eyes didn’t hold mine when she packed her things — the way her hands shook when she zipped up her bag — I knew it wasn’t space she needed.It was distance.It was escape.It was air that didn’t carry the weight of my lies.The door shut behind her over two hours ago, and I haven’t moved. Not really. I’ve just been… here. Sitting on the edge of the bed like a man waiting for a war to start, even though the bombs already fell.Her scent still lingers on the pillow. That vanilla-warm thing that always made me think of Sundays — slow mornings, messy hair, breakfast in bed. Now it just smells like guilt.My phone buzzes for the fourth time. Bianca.I ignore it.I ignored the first three too.She has everything she wants now — my secrets laid bare, Cheryl shaken to her core, and a picture of Felix twisted into a knife sharp enough to cut through whatever future Cheryl and I wer