Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobela Roommate

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.

My roommate, Keith Kavanaugh, calls himself the "Holy Son of Frost". On the very first day we meet, he insists that the air conditioner in our dorm room must stay on until October, and the temperature can never go above 50°F. He claims, "A mystic says I'm the Holy Son of Frost, so I have a rare physique. I can only live in cool environments of 50°F at most." He even starts live-streaming, and his "special condition" instantly attracts a huge following. Meanwhile, I'm sitting right in front of the AC vent, so I'm shivering all over from the cold. I quickly turn the temperature up, but he immediately turns it back down and even locks the remote in his cabinet. "We're all educated college students here. Why are you so selfish?" he questions. Faced with his unreasonable accusation, I hold back my anger and try to reason with him. "We're in the north region. The weather here is cool enough in September. There's no need to set the AC this low. But if you insist, I can switch spots with you…" Keith cuts me off impatiently, "Are you crazy? Who sleeps right in front of the AC vent? What if I get sick from it? No one else has a problem. Why are you the only one making a fuss? Let me warn you—I'll melt from the heat. If you make me uncomfortable during my stay, I'll have you kicked out!" I realize there's no reasoning with him, so I plan to contact the dorm counselor to switch rooms. But Keith beats me to it! He goes to her first, records a video, and even posts it online. He accuses me, a local student, of being selfish and bullying him, someone who is from out of town. Just then, a new post suddenly appears on the campus forum. The poster writes, "My roommates are too wasteful. One guy washes his hair every day, and he even uses running water. He even takes a shower after every training session! Meanwhile, I can wash my whole body with just one damp towel. "And the worst part of this is that they want to kick me out after I made an itemized bill to split expenses. These cheapskates are always taking advantage of me. I'm looking for a high-quality dorm to take me in." My eyes light up instantly. He's the one!

I saw my college roommate send a voice message into a group chat. I watched his screen as our four other roommates responded. However, there were no notifications on my phone. That was when I realized the five of them had created a group without me. In that group, they complained about me being a dumb rich kid, cursed my mom for being a homewrecker, and secretly took nude photographs of me. They were even planning to drug me and give me to a older rich woman for her entertainment. I covered all their meals, drinks, and living expenses, yet they dared to betray me? Fine. I would show them the true rage of a trust fund kid!

Even though it has become customary for all the heirs of wealthy families to study abroad, my father has specifically chosen a local university for me, saying that he would miss me far too much if I left the country. He also donates a new building to the school so that I would not be mistreated by anyone on campus. The semester soon begins. Not wanting my roommates at the dorm to be intimidated by the economic disparity between us, I decide to dress more simply. But when I arrive at the dorm room, I see that someone else is using the bed I chose. My bedding and belongings now lie scattered all across the floor. Just as I'm about to speak, the young woman proclaims, "I want this bed. You can use a different one. Oh, and I bought a handbag for all of my female classmates, so you can take one as compensation." "But I arrived before you and chose that bed already," I say with a smile. All she does is look me over and scoff derisively. "Who cares if you arrived first and chose it? Since I want it, it's mine now. My dad is Calvin Stuart, the chairman of Lumina Corporation! If I want something, no one in this city dares to protest!" Lumina Corporation? Isn't that the company that reached out to my father this morning to ask for an investment?

During my senior year of high school, I moved into an old house just to save money. Something about the place felt off. At first, it was just things I casually put down disappearing without a trace. Then, random objects that didn't belong to me started appearing around the house. One night, I finished my homework and was about to go to sleep when a girl's tank top suddenly fell from the ceiling. I froze for several seconds. Just as I was about to throw it away, I heard someone cursing out of nowhere. "Who's there? Darn it! What kind of creep steals a tank top?"

The rich scion, Hayden Jensen, who shares an apartment with me, has a split personality. Sometimes, he's a cheerful and optimistic bright soul who keeps introducing amazing hot guys to me. Thanks to him, I've gotten to know Brock Hayes, a varsity jock, Julian Reed, the gentle campus heartthrob, and Noah Bennett, the sweet underclassman. When the four of us are playing poker happily at home, we hear a furious voice being gritted out from behind. "So, you're saying that I was the one who told them to hang out with you?" I inhale sharply at his words. Oh, no! Hayden's dark side has emerged!

Lately, I've been having a weird dream consistently. In the dream, a man with a mole near the corner of one eye keeps telling me, "I miss you so much." But whenever I try to take a good look at him, I wake up from the dream. That is, until I spot the man in my dreams on a pop-up window featuring an advertisement that promotes chatting with AI bots. There, I personally craft every inch of that man, making him my perfect AI boyfriend. But right after I uninstall the app, he appears in my apartment in person.

The night before our big offline meetup, my roommate took one look at my internet boyfriend's photo and declared it was a fake. "Using a stolen photo for an online romance? He's definitely insecure and too ugly to show his real face!" The next day, my boyfriend texted: [Sorry, something came up at the last minute. Can you wait half an hour?] I breathed a sigh of relief because I had just been notified about an exclusive expert lecture on campus. Word was, the speaker was an academic powerhouse, and the university had paid a fortune to secure him. I snagged a seat in the front row. But the moment I looked up at the podium, my stomach dropped. Why did this famous scholar look so much like my boyfriend in the "stolen photo"?

I'm the ultimate soft touch. My dirt-poor roommate used to survive by digging through trash cans for food. Pity got the better of me, so I covered his tuition, his living expenses, and slipped him fifty dollars a day out of my own pocket. My only condition: he had to tag along whenever I went to my private tutoring sessions. I thought he was grateful for it. Then, junior year, he strutted into the classroom head to toe in designer labels and hurled fifty coins in my face in front of the whole class. "Fifty a day, and you treated me like your personal slave for three years—dragged me along to sit through lectures I couldn't even follow, humiliated me every step of the way! "Well, guess what? My real father just tracked me down. He's a billionaire, and he handed me a black card with no spending limit. Here's your fifty back. I'm done being your errand boy. "And I'll never turn into some arrogant jerk just because I've got a little money—unlike you!" Then he handed out luxury bags to everyone in the class except me. The whole room fell for it instantly, chanting, "Long live Elmer!" I stared at the forty-three purchase notifications that had just popped up on my phone and went quiet. I checked again. My black card—the one my father had given me—was gone. Everything clicked into place. The rich long-lost father? All fake. He'd simply stolen my black card, played dress-up as a billionaire's son, and stomped on me on his way up. Without a word, I made one phone call. And transferred the black card into his name. He'd clearly watched too many soap operas—he thought a black card was some kind of savings account. He had no idea it was just a credit card with a higher limit, and every cent he spent on it, he'd owe back.

I was a familiar face in the police station. I often got into fights and would frequently be thrown into a detention cell. One day, while I was gaming in an arcade, Captain Zimmer showed up again. I was stunned for a few seconds. “Did I beat someone up again? I don’t remember, though.” Captain Zimmer merely took his handcuffs out and put them on me. “Mindy Fawkes, you’re under arrest on suspicion of killing your dormmates.”

Five years ago, I was nearly killed in a car accident while saving my mother-in-law. My injuries were so severe that I spent years abroad undergoing treatment and rehabilitation. The moment I landed back home, I ran into my former college roommate, Vanessa Caldwell. She and her designer-clad friends looked me up and down with open disgust. "Gianna Lott?" Vanessa stared at me. "Is that really you?" One of her friends covered her mouth and giggled. "Vanessa, why does your old roommate look like she just got out of cleaning the airport bathrooms?" Vanessa waved a hand, pretending to defend me. "Don't be rude. Then again, Gianna's mother was a housekeeper..." She paused dramatically before giving me a fake, apologetic smile. "Oh my God, Gianna. I'm so sorry. Was I not supposed to mention that?" I had no interest in entertaining them. I turned to leave, but Vanessa stepped directly into my path. "By the way, my son's first birthday party is tomorrow," she said. "We haven't seen each other in years. You absolutely have to come." I rejected, "No, thanks. I'm not interested." Her friend's expression immediately darkened. "Don't be so ungrateful. Do you even know who Vanessa married?" She leaned closer, her voice dripping with superiority. "Her husband is the heir to the most powerful family in Crownmere. Someone like you could live 10 lifetimes and still never get close to a man like him." Another woman tittered meanly. "Just look at her. She probably doesn't even own a proper dress. Gianna, should I donate one of my old ones to you?" Vanessa raised a hand, putting on another performance. "That's enough." Then, she looked at me with exaggerated pity. "Gianna, I never imagined your life would turn out this badly." She sighed. "For old times' sake, I can arrange a catering job for you at the party. You'll earn a little money and get a glimpse of how the upper class lives." Before I could refuse, she shoved an invitation into my hand. I was about to throw it away when the name listed under "Father of the Birthday Boy" caught my eye and my breath hitched. It was my husband's name, Alexander Whitmore.

My roommate, Andrew Hayes, has become obsessed with this viral tiramisu place off campus. Every night without fail, he brings a box of it back. He tries to sell us on it more than once. Supposedly the texture is silky and rich, and it melts in the mouth. I just can't be bothered to care. Everything changes on the day before the grad school recommendation list is posted. My pen is moving across the page of a paper when something at the edge of my vision suddenly catches my eye. A few lines of text have appeared. [Tonight, your roommate, Andrew, will ask you to help him buy tiramisu from that viral dessert shop. After he eats it, he'll rush out of the dorm. The next day, the police will take you away on charges of aggravated assault. [Online exposés will say you attacked your roommate out of jealousy, and the Internet will explode with outrage. Relentless cyberbullying will consume your life. Even your parents will get dragged down with you and lose their steady jobs. Ultimately, you'll be driven into a mental breakdown and die from depression.] I figure I've started hallucinating after finally cracking under the pressure, so I toss the workbook aside. That night, Andrew pushes open the dorm room door. His tone is easy and familiar as he asks, "Luke, grab me a tiramisu on your way back, okay?" My brain blanks for a second. This scene matches the prediction word for word. Andrew's smile is bright and sunny as he walks closer, but I only feel a chill down my spine because of one of the prediction's sentences. [After you're taken in for questioning, you'll miss your interview. The guaranteed grad school spot will fall right into Andrew's lap.] Is Andrew really going to ruin my entire life over a single guaranteed grad school slot? My grip tightens around my pen. I say, "Sorry, Andrew. It's not really convenient for me."

In my past life, news from high society circulated about a single, wealthy heiress who searched for a single man who could complete 14 days of inedia. My roommate, Chad Kranz, was convinced that she secretly searched for her future husband. Chad wanted to become rich and powerful quickly, and he did not hesitate to shut himself inside our dorm room to fast. On the night of his 14th day, he went into shock and stopped breathing. The sight scared me so much that I forced half a bottle of glucose down his throat, and I carried him on my back to the emergency room late in the night. Chad survived, and he gained 300 pounds from imbalanced hormones and became paralyzed. His family vented their anger at me in front of the media. They shouted, "There was only half a night left! If you had not made him fail with that mouthful of glucose, my son would have become the son‑in‑law of a wealthy family! You stopped my family from becoming rich! We will make you pay with your life!" They forced me to give up my placement in postgraduate studies, and they seized my family's property. They even pushed me toward death by demanding millions in compensation. When I opened my eyes next, I had returned to the 14th day of Chad's inedia process. He sat cross‑legged on the bed while he mumbled with reddened eyes, "I'm about to achieve a breakthrough with a new life. Anyone who stops me from marrying into a wealthy family will be punished!" This time, I slowly chewed my hard‑boiled egg and said, "Do not worry, Chad. I'll be the first to stop anyone from preventing you from marrying into a wealthy family!"

Sawyer Lund is my brother, and I've been his wingman since we were kids. Growing up, my absolute favorite thing to do was serving him—bringing him his drinks, getting his food, even lighting his cigarettes. I do it happily and never complain. When Sawyer gets accepted into Javon University, I waste no time skipping grades and following him there. On the first day of the semester, Sawyer walks into our dorm room with eight bodyguards. Our roommates greet him enthusiastically while I busy myself cleaning up his desk. Harvey Warren is the only roommate who mocks me pointedly for it. "You're not Sawyer's roommate," he says. "You're clearly his lackey." I just smile and stay silent. One day, Sawyer carelessly tosses his newly purchased Patek Philippe to me and says, "The colorway suits your style better. You should wear it instead." Harvey happens to walk past the door just as I accept the watch with a smile. Over the weekend, with Sawyer away on a business trip abroad, Harvey and I are the only ones left in the dorm. "Do you know what everyone in class calls you behind your back, Felix?" he says. "Sawyer's lapdog." The next day, Ruby Sutton, the campus belle who happens to be my girlfriend, tells me to meet her out on the field. She furrows her brow deeply the moment she sees me. "Do you have to be this pathetic, Felix? How could you throw away your dignity and become someone's lapdog just for a watch? Harvey's family isn't well-off, but even he lives with more dignity than you do." She pauses, then delivers another crushing blow. "Harvey takes the top spot in our major yet again in this term's finals. What do you have to show for yourself? You spend all your time acting as a glorified goon while your grades sit at rock bottom. Do you not feel ashamed, Felix?" Harvey tugs gently at her sleeve and lowers his head. "Please stop arguing with him, Ruby. You know how much I dislike this kind of thing." Ruby's expression immediately softens. I watch her rub his shoulder and smirk. Has nobody noticed that Sawyer and I have the same last name—Lund?

For three years in college, I was basically the dorms’ unpaid tech support. I was always on call, never charging for dust cleaning, thermal paste replacement, and operating system installations. Then senior year started, and Mickey, a freshman, called me out in the dorm group chat. “You know thermal paste only costs a few bucks a tube, right? Yet, he’s seriously charging you guys two cans of energy drinks for the job.” Mickey added smugly. “My family runs a computer store. Come to me instead. I’ll charge you a can for the service, and I can guarantee authentic parts.” The group chat blew up. “The kid’s legit!” “Well, Axis isn't getting any more energy drinks from me.” I read the messages and quietly packed away my tools in the cabinet. They had no idea the thermal paste I used cost nearly forty bucks a tube. The dust cleaning was done with professional-grade equipment. Little did they know, the so-called genuine parts sold on the market were mostly refurbished parts with a fresh coat of paint. I got into bed and pulled a sleep mask over my eyes. Honestly, this couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I’d been wondering when these days of doing free repairs at my expense would finally end. Well, there's my ticket out.

Right before graduation, our Resident Advisor (RA), Jasper Hollister, posts a message in the group chat announcing a hygiene inspection in two days. At the same time, he sets up a pool and demands 200 dollars from each of us to hire a professional cleaner. I immediately ask, "How on earth does a cleaning service cost 800 dollars for a tiny four-person dorm room?" Jasper instantly gets defensive and snaps, "If we get held back from graduating because of you, are you gonna take the blame?" Not wanting any drama, I just pay up and spend the next two days quietly grinding out my thesis at the library. On inspection day, I get a furious phone call from our Residence Hall Director, Deborah Campbell, screaming at me to get back to the room immediately. I push the door open to find the other three beds are spotless. Meanwhile, my bed and desk are buried under a mountain of takeout containers and trash that reeks to high heaven.

My roommate, Florence Myers—who happens to be from a low-income family—is obsessed with AI. She relies on AI to determine whether the food she eats will bring her good or bad luck, and she even lets AI plan her daily outfits. On our very first day of orientation, she refuses to lock the window, claiming an AI dating app has matched her with her soulmate. I warn her that our dormitory is located deep in the mountains and leaving the window unlocked is dangerous. Florence threatens to end her life if I don't let her have her way. "Cora AI said my true love will break through the window tonight!" I don't want to pick a fight, so I wait until she's sound asleep and quietly lock the window shut. However, when I wake up in the middle of the night, I catch a thief climbing in through the window. I'm about to call for help when Florence clamps her hand over my mouth, looking ridiculously excited. "Don't make a sound, Cleo! I just woke up to unlock the window, and he showed up! This is fate. We're meant to be!" Her cheeks are tinged pink. "If I go over and greet him right now, do you think he'll confess his love to me first?" Ignoring her attempts to stop me, I decisively call the cops and have the thief arrested. I think this matter's behind us, yet on the night orientation ends, Florence corners me against my bed, shoving the latest news headline in my face. "This is all your fault! The thief from that night is the richest man's long-lost son! You ruined my chance to marry into wealth!" The very next second, she strangles the life out of me. … When my eyes fly open again, I realize I've been reborn back to the very first day of college. This time, I scoff, grab my luggage, and walk out the door. Since Florence wants a love story that begins with a home invasion so badly, I'll gladly step aside and let her live out her dream!

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.

My roommate, Nathan White, says he practices extreme mindfulness and can't kill any living creatures. On the very first day of college, he grabs my electric mosquito swatter and stops me. "Mosquitoes are living creatures too. How can you kill them?" That night, he opens every window in our dorm, saying he wants to leave the door open for any little lives that have lost their way. I get bitten so badly that I develop a high fever and an allergic reaction. My eyelids swell so much that I can barely open my eyes. When I put up a mosquito net, he tears it down with tears in his eyes. "How can you be so selfish? If you cover yourself up, what's going to happen to them?" In my previous life, those words marked the beginning of my condemnation by everyone in my dorm, my entire class, and even the campus confession page. They say I'm cold-blooded and that Nathan is simply too kindhearted and criticize me for being unable to tolerate just a few mosquitoes. In the end, my high fever leads to an infection, and I go into anaphylactic shock and end up in the ICU. Meanwhile, Nathan faces the camera with an aggrieved expression and claims that my hostility is what provoked the mosquitoes to attack me. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the first day of college. Nathan is holding down my electric mosquito swatter and looking at me expectantly. "You won't hurt them, right?" I pick up my phone and head straight to the office of the faculty member in charge. "Ms. Zimmer, I'd like to apply for permission to live off campus." Whoever wants to turn the dorm into a wildlife sanctuary can do as they please. I want no part in it.

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."