Room Chat

My roommate was a classic bimbo. When I went to arrange a jogging meetup, she mistyped it as a hookup and sent it straight into the group chat, then burst into tears and claimed she didn't know how to retract the message. When I went to meet my jogging buddy, she told everyone that she ran into my "hookup buddy." At the end, she even covered her mouth and giggled sweetly, saying, "I always mix words up." After a few stunts like that, my reputation was utterly ruined, and the entire class shut me out. Later, she used her "clumsiness" as an excuse to spike my milk with sleeping pills, causing me to miss a major exam. She even dropped toxic bacteria into my water cup and killed me outright. And all of it was over something that stupid: the guy she had a crush on had casually helped me carry my luggage on the first day of school. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very first day of freshman orientation. This time, I am going to let her experience what it felt like to be ruined—and killed—by a so-called idiot.

“Absolutely not!! You can not force me to be stuck with her again! I do not want to be in the same room with her again!”

While taking the high-speed train home, I came across a post online. “My brother-in-law is pushing thirty, but no wedding bells so far. Would it bother you if he came back to visit all the time?” The comments were all over the place. With the post blowing up, the poster started arguing with commenters. “It’s bad enough that he doesn’t start his own family, but he took one of my yogurts. I can’t stand him. “Geez. Does he know nothing about keeping boundaries? I’ve been dying to put him in his place. “I converted his room into my walk-in closet. Well, that should show him for staying here.” At that point, I stopped reading. Since I paid for the family home back then, one room would always be reserved for me. As I stepped off the train, my mother texted me. “I booked you a room at the hotel, Miles. “You might want to skip staying home this time.”

Imagine being sent to kill the most ‘unkillable’ man in the underworld—The Big Bad Alpha. If you fail, he kills you without mercy. And everyone else who ever tried failed. How then can you, a lone female assassin, kill this monster? You decide to do it against all odds but when you get there, BOOM! The deadliest Alpha alive is your mate. Wayne Knight stepped into the room and Olive's heart thudded loudly. He was the most powerful Alpha in the country, and she was sent to assassinate him. But she failed and was caught, which meant he would not have any mercy on her. He was going to kill her mercilessly and ruthlessly. But why was she loving the scent of him since he stepped into the room? Why did she love his gaze on her despite being scared? And why was he not breaking his eye contact with her ever since he entered the room? Well, her wolf growled her the answer to all her questions...“MATE.”

To save the three most important men in my life, I made a deal with the Moon Goddess. Trade my life for theirs. If I could make any one of them truly love me within five years, I'd get to live. But on the final day of the countdown, all three still had negative feelings toward me. According to the rules, I'd failed. My life was about to be erased. "Moon Goddess, could I send one last message? One final try?" Maybe out of pity, she granted me this last attempt. This message was my final shot. I hit the voice button in our group chat, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Could you guys love me just a little? I'm really going to die." After a moment of silence came their merciless laughter. "You'll do anything to compete with Lidia for attention, won't you?" "Cut the lies. This just makes us hate you more." "If you're so desperate to die, then just do it already." Mission failed. I gave them exactly what they wanted. But when I was about to die, they all freaked out.

Riley needs a fresh start. She cuts her hair and steps onto the ice as her twin brother to claim his spot on the Falcons. It is a dangerous game of deception. Especially since her new roommate is Jax. He is a brooding defenseman who hates her brother and watches her every move. The locker room is a minefield. The dorm room is a trap. As the lines between her lie and her heart blur. Riley falls for the man who wants to destroy her family. When the truth finally explodes. will the love they built survive the cold weight of his betrayal?

Nisha is a normal nineteen-year-old college girl and lives ordinary. But things started to take a turn for the worse when her classmate, Max Stuart, suicide in a gloomy room Everything shows that he killed himself but she knew is impossible. Most surprising, Max showed up in Nisha’s room as a spirit and she’s the only one who can see him and hear from him. Nisha has no choice but to help him. However, in the process of searching for the truth, their feelings gradually warm up, but the closer to the truth is more close to parting, where will they go eventually?

Today happens to be Yvonne Ziegler's birthday. Yvonne is Shawn Jacobson's, my husband's, newly hired personal assistant. Shawn spares no expense in buying her a villa as a birthday present, and Yvonne haughtily takes to social media to show off on the day she moves in. "I'd like everyone to know that I'm married to a wealthy man now." Shawn comments on the post, saying, "Happy birthday, my beloved Yvonne!" In the picture, Shawn's hand rests intimately on Yvonne's slender waist, leaving no doubt about their intimate relationship. In that instant, the company's group chat erupts into a frenzy of notifications, as colleagues declare their envy of Yvonne and heap praise upon her for being young and accomplished. Oscar Jagger, my childhood friend, notices the picture and immediately tags me in the group chat. He then sends me a pointed, teasing message, saying, "Shawn's display of love is so glaring! Congrats on being cheated on, Leslie!" I manage a bitter, wry smile, taking my time to type out the response. "Do you need a villa as well, Oscar? I'm happy to give you a place—a much nicer one than Shawn's, of course."

Mariés depuis quatre ans, Louis, qui ne poste jamais rien sur Instagram, a soudain publié une story ce matin : « Une petite chatte trop gourmande. » La photo montrait une fille avec un serre-tête rose aux oreilles de chat, le visage rougi par le piquant de la fondue, tirant la langue. C'était Yukki, la nouvelle streameuse de son entreprise. En moins d'une minute, un des nos amis communs a commenté : « Mec, t'as oublié de changer de compte ! » Alors, cette publication a disparu comme par magie, mais on l'a vite retrouvée sur la page Instagram de Yukki. Peu après, l'appel de Louis est arrivé. Avant, j'aurais déjà pris une capture d'écran, et appelé direct pour lui demander des explications — et bien sûr, fini en dispute impossible à calmer. Mais cette fois, je suis restée là , à attendre que l'appel coupe de lui-même.

Just after stepping out of the shower, I received a private message from my so-called uncle, Hank Shephard—a distant relative I barely ever spoke to. "Francis, that new car you posted looks impressive. Perfect for William's wedding!" I hadn't even figured out how to reply to that out-of-nowhere comment when another message popped up. "Your cousin William is getting married next month. Just treat your car as his wedding gift." The entitlement in his tone made my head hurt. I didn't bother arguing and closed the chat window. Apparently, he did not think there was anything wrong with what he had said. Messages kept coming. "Don't worry, your uncle won't let you suffer a loss. "When it's your turn to get married, I'll have William drive that car as your lead wedding car. It'll make you look good." I stared at the screen in silence. That was the moment I realized—Some people don't just feel entitled to your belongings. They believe your life exists to serve theirs.