Historias cortas de Melodramatic y novelas con Roommate ambientadas en Face Slapping

My roommate beamed with pride as she told me a horrifying secret: she had allowed a wealthy businessman to "remove" her unborn child, claiming he absorbed the baby’s fortune in exchange for a hefty payout. Chills ran down my spine. I urged her to stop meddling with such dark dealings before it destroyed her, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she threw herself into it, addicted to helping people "transfer luck" for money. Her luck ran out when she contracted a mysterious disease. When her boyfriend found out, she turned on me, tearfully accusing me of tying her to another man’s bed. Before I could even defend myself, an enraged man ran me down with his car. The next thing I knew, I woke up to find myself back in time. My roommate was leaning in close, her eyes glinting with excitement as she whispered, asking if I wanted to join her "luck transfer" schemes. This time, I wasn’t taking any chances. I noticed the slight swell of her belly and immediately sent a text to her boyfriend: "Congrats! You’re going to be a dad!"

My roommate is the kind of person who has to get to the bottom of everything and doesn't stop asking questions until she's satisfied. One night, while I'm sound asleep, she suddenly stands by my bed and calls my name, "Melissa, are you asleep?" Having been awakened by her, I shoot her an annoyed glare, but she just says, "See? You weren't really asleep. Otherwise, how could you have answered me?" One day, she decides to skip class. Thinking that I could help by signing her in on my phone, I do just that. However, near the end of the lecture, she suddenly bursts into the room and asks the professor, "I wasn't here today, so why does it show I was marked present? Is the system down?" The professor traces it back to me, fails me on the spot, and makes me retake the class. Later on, I join a speech contest. My roommate stands up in front of everyone and asks why my speech sounded exactly like her ideas. I get disqualified, lose my scholarship, and am labeled a plagiarist. Devastated, I climb onto the rooftop late at night. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the night when my roommate first asked if I was asleep.

First day of school, and my roommate Sharon hits me with a $50k guilt trip over some "limited-edition" suitcase. "You're blind or just too dumb to walk straight?" My boyfriend? Useless. Classmates? Total sheep. The dean? Clown. Then I really looked at Sharon. Wait a sec—wasn't she the same scholarship case my family covered?

My best friend called me sobbing at two in the morning, saying she owed three hundred thousand dollars in online loans and was begging me to save her life. I told her I'd help cover half. She grabbed my phone and transferred all three hundred thousand. "It's just money—why are you being so stingy? You make six figures. Helping me out shouldn't be a big deal." I swallowed it. A month later, she posted Maldives vacation photos on Instagram. When I asked when she planned to pay me back, she replied—right there in the comments, where every mutual friend could see— "God, stop nagging. Maybe spend that energy making more money instead, you cheapskate. So annoying." I screenshotted everything. Then I opened the civil complaint I'd already drafted. This kind of best friend? We could catch up in court.

During my freshman year, I regularly eat at a restaurant near campus. One day, I order a sandwich, but the owner insists on serving me a more expensive seafood stew instead. I tell her, "I'm allergic to seafood." She turns on me instantly. "What's wrong with you? Are you trying to ruin my business? If you can't afford to eat here, don't come in pretending you're something you're not! "College kids these days are the worst. The broke ones always cause the most drama. You show up here looking all fancy, yet you can't even spring for a 45-dollar stew. On top of that, you want to act like you're somebody!" I walk out. Back at the dorm, my roommate, Paige Weston, lectures me from her self-appointed moral high ground. "The owner's a single mom! Do you know how hard she has it? You really had to embarrass her like that in front of everyone, huh? How do you think that made her feel? You're so selfish and small-minded, Gemma!" I roll my eyes. "You're insane." But Paige doesn't let it drop. She steals my 3,000-dollar designer bag and hands it to the restaurant owner as an apology on my behalf without my permission. My other roommates take her side, telling me, "It's just a bag. We're all roommates here, so just let it go." I scoff, pick up my phone, and dial 911. Paige can explain herself to the cops.

The day I received my full-time offer email, my roommate suddenly popped her head out from her bunk curtain. "Megan, go ahead and decline that job offer email." I froze, turning around to stare at her in disbelief. "Anna, what are you talking about?" She looked down at me, taking her sweet time before speaking. "Your team lead is my boyfriend. That spot was reserved for me all along." My heart skipped a beat. Was I really dealing with a nepo-baby trying to hijack my job? I closed my laptop and stepped over to her bed. "Wait, you've never even interned at our company." "I don't need to intern. I'm a direct hire," she declared, her tone oozing confidence and arrogance. My eyelids twitched as I pulled up my team lead's social media feed, but there wasn't a single photo of them together. "So, how long have you two been dating?" "We're about to start dating." "What do you mean by about to?" "I just sent him a friend request. As soon as he accepts, we're official."

My roommate, Madison Walker, clutches her stomach and leans over to whisper that she has her period. She asks if I have a pad. I don't give her one. Instead, I stand up and call out to the entire lecture hall. "Madison got her period! Does anyone have a pad she can use?" In my past life, I'd discreetly pulled a pad from my bag and kindly handed it to her. Three days later, she tested positive for HIV and faced expulsion. Madison choked back tears as she cried, "The only person who gave me a pad was Calista. The wrapper was already open, but I didn't think anything of it. "I don't know if she did it on purpose, but now I'm HIV-positive! My life is ruined!" The student advisor, Percy Cobb, refused to listen to my explanation. He forced me to take an immediate leave of absence and called the police, accusing me of deliberately spreading an infectious disease. Not only did I lose my diploma and my opportunity to study abroad, but I was also relentlessly cyberbullied and harassed until a normal life became impossible. Ultimately, I jumped from an overpass and ended my life. It was only after my death that I discovered Madison had already contracted HIV before she ever asked me for a pad. She had been seeing multiple guys at once. When everything fell apart, she panicked at the thought of the consequences and used me as a scapegoat. She also had me expelled so she could steal the single remaining spot for the student exchange program. This time, I turn Madison down in front of the entire class. Let's see how she plans to pin her illness on me now.

My supervisor, Jessica Lawson, spotted me coming and going from a multimillion-dollar oceanfront estate in the Hamptons. She decided I'd landed a wealthy man and was about to marry into money. That same night, she dropped the estate's location into the company group chat and invited everyone to a department party there. "Emma Bennett is hosting at her oceanfront estate this weekend. Bring your families. Everyone in the department is invited!" I patiently explained that I was just a part-time caretaker. "My job is literally walking the owner's dog." But the group chat went feral. Everyone ignored me and started placing orders. "Remember to open the Romanée-Conti early so it has time to breathe." "Pick me up in the Lamborghini that day. Ferraris just aren't my vibe." In under ten minutes, more than fifty people had signed up. Jessica tagged me directly. "The catering bill is going under your name. Make us proud, and don't embarrass the boss." I gave a humorless laugh at the endless sign-up list. Richard Hale, the estate's owner, was a boxer who stood nearly six foot six and was built like The Rock. The last thief who trespassed on his property is still in a coma.