My roommate was a fragile, petty, and possessively toxic piece of work. If I saved a seat for another classmate in a lecture hall, she’d cry, accusing me of betraying her. If the cafeteria lady gave me one more meatball than her, she’d report the woman for "discrimination" and get her fired. Even when my boyfriend invited me home for Thanksgiving break, she threw a fit. She claimed she’d never experienced a "real family holiday" and guilt-tripped us into letting her tag along. Once at my house, she treated my parents like servants, ordering them around. She even hinted that my boyfriend should warm up her bed because "it was cold." The final straw was my birthday dinner. Because I didn't serve her food first, she flipped the hot pot table. Scalding soup ruined my face. In the chaos that followed, she pushed me down the stairs. I died. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in my freshman dorm room on the very first day we met. Chapter 1 "Why did you skip me?" My roommate, Tilly, suddenly threw her chopsticks on the floor and burst into tears. My boyfriend, Ethan, snapped, "What is wrong with you now?" Tilly pouted, her eyes red and swollen. She looked at me with pure venom masked as grievance. "Harper, you served everyone else but me. The tripe is all gone, and I didn't get a single bite. Do you all look down on me that much?!" Tears the size of beans rolled down her cheeks. My grandparents, soft-hearted as always, immediately flagged down the waiter to order two more plates of tripe. "Child, don't cry. It was our oversight." My parents looked baffled. But after three days of her tantrums during the holiday break, they were getting used to it. They sighed, their patience wearing thin. This scene happened at my birthday dinner. My family was happily eating hot pot and singing songs. Ethan had just cut the cake, and everyone was about to sing "Happy Birthday." But Tilly, the roommate who insisted on tagging along for Thanksgiving, ruined everything. She flipped the boiling pot of spicy broth right onto my face. I screamed in agony as the searing liquid burned my skin. Through the pain, I saw that everyone else was fine. She had aimed the pot specifically at me. My parents and grandparents frantically called 911. Ethan exploded: "Tilly, are you insane?! We treated you like family, gave you food and shelter, and this is how you repay us? You want to kill her?!" Tilly didn't show an ounce of remorse. She sat there, arms crossed, staring me down. "I've been burned by oil before. Relax, she won't die." "She has a perfect family and a happy life. Why does she look down on me? Why didn't she serve me food?" I couldn't hold it back anymore. I screamed through the pain: "Get out! Get out of my house right now! We are done. I'm requesting a dorm transfer the second school starts!" Chapter 2 Hearing that I would no longer tolerate her because of her "pitiful background," Tilly’s expression twisted into something evil. She lunged at me and slapped my burned face. My parents and Ethan had run downstairs to settle the bill and guide the ambulance. No one was there to help me. My grandparents tried to pull her away, their frail hands trembling. Tilly screamed like a banshee: "You said you'd be good to me!" "You lied! You'll pay for this!" The slap stunned me. My face, already blistering, throbbed with excruciating pain. My grandparents, both over 80, couldn't withstand the shoving of a young woman who grew up doing farm work. Grandma was pushed to the floor. Grandpa clutched his chest, gasping for breath. "Pills... pills..." I was shaking with rage, tears streaming down my face. "Tilly, you ate my food, wore my clothes, used my money, and now you hurt my family? You have no conscience! You deserve every beating your stepfather gave you. You deserve your miserable life!" Mentioning her abusive stepfather was the trigger. She lost all reason. She reached out and choked me. I wasn't as strong as her. She backed me to the edge of the stairs. In the struggle, I fell. My neck snapped. I died on impact. When I opened my eyes again, the dorm door creaked open. Tilly dragged a massive woven sack into the room, looking timid and awkward. I was making my bed on the bottom bunk. She was small, her skin rough from sun exposure. She whispered cautiously, "Um, excuse me... I'm afraid of heights. Could I maybe have the bottom bunk?" When I didn't respond immediately, she added, "If not, it's okay. Sorry to bother you." Her voice was as quiet as a mosquito. In that moment, I knew. I was reborn. Reborn to the first day of freshman year. Chapter 3 In my past life, my bleeding heart got the better of me. I treated her too well. That only made her greedy and entitled. This time? Absolutely not. Without even turning my head, I said: "Sorry, I'm afraid of heights too. Ask someone else." She didn't give up. The pity play started immediately. "Please... I'm from a rural village. I've never lived in a building before, never even taken an elevator. High places terrify me. Please, I'm begging you." Before I could speak, a voice cut through the air. "If you're that fragile, go rent an apartment. It has a living room and kitchen, no bunk beds." It was Morgan, the girl with the short, edgy haircut on the top bunk opposite me. She jumped down from her bed. Morgan was straightforward and sharp-tongued. In my past life, her bluntness allegedly "drove" Tilly to almost jump out the window from depression. I was the one who pulled Tilly back, comforted her for hours, and used all my patience to "heal" her. Because of that, the other roommates isolated us. I stood by her side, and she repaid me with murder. This time, I was going to hug Morgan's thigh tight. She was going to be my voice of reason. Tilly started sobbing. She squatted on the floor, looking like a drenched koala. Just then, our fourth roommate, Chloe, walked in. Chloe was a wealthy, straight-A beauty. In my past life, she kept her distance until Tilly stole her mother's vintage Chanel dress, ruined it, and tried to sell it on Depop. That was when Chloe finally snapped and moved out. I looked at Chloe. This was the heavyweight ally I needed. I smiled at her. "Hey, you want this bottom bunk? The one near the door is drafty. You look delicate; I bet I can handle the cold better than you." Chloe looked at me suspiciously, then at Tilly crying on the floor. Her brain was working fast. She wasn't one to pick sides without info. And honestly, she probably thought this drama was beneath her. Chapter 4 Hearing that I'd rather give the bed to the "princess" than to her, Tilly snapped. She ran out crying, acting like she'd been assaulted. She came back with our Resident Assistant (RA), Sarah. "Guys, we don't discriminate here. We're all adults. Tilly is from a different background, yes, but she hasn't done anything to you, right? Let's try to get along." Morgan scoffed. "Who bullied her? Show me the evidence." "If she says we murdered someone, are we going to jail tomorrow just because she cried?" The RA wasn't expecting a freshman to be this tough. She softened her tone. "Look, fate brought you all to Room 303. Let's compromise. Take a step back, and the sky is wide, right?" Tilly felt empowered. She nodded vigorously behind the RA like a bobblehead. "Yes, Sarah is right!" She turned her hopeful eyes to Chloe. "Classmate, could you please give me the bottom bunk? I really have a phobia." Chloe looked at Tilly, then at the RA staring at her expectantly. It was a classic moral kidnapping setup. But Chloe was rich enough not to care. She pulled out a wad of cash—two thousand dollars. She tossed it at Tilly's feet. "Go see a therapist." Tilly's jaw dropped. "What do you mean?!" Morgan chimed in perfectly: "She means if you're sick, go to the hospital. Don't try to guilt-trip us. We don't buy it." I almost applauded. God, I love Morgan. I declared internally: Morgan is my best friend in this life. I will make up for my blindness in the last life.
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