ROOMMATES BY MISTAKE

Everyone talked about university like it was the beginning of freedom. Akira thought it sounded exhausting. For months she had listened to people describe university as if it were some magical turning point in life. Teachers called it a place of growth. Relatives called it adulthood. Former students posted long emotional messages online about unforgettable memories, lifelong friendships, and discovering who they truly were. Akira never understood the excitement. To her, university was not a movie. It was not self-discovery. It was not some dramatic chapter where she suddenly transformed into another person. It was school. Just bigger. Study hard. Graduate. Get a good job. Move on. That was the plan. Simple. The university campus was louder than she expected.Students dragged heavy suitcases across walkways. Parents stood beside cars giving final instructions like they were sending soldiers to war. New students clustered together awkwardly, exchanging names and pretending not to feel nervous. Some people already looked like best friends.Akira didn’t understand how, classes hadn’t even started. She adjusted the strap of her duffel bag and continued walking through the crowd.People moved around her like a current, Excited conversations. Camera flashes. Someone crying. Someone laughing too loudly. Someone shouting directions. She kept walking. This was it. First year. No uniforms. No teachers chasing assignments. No classmates whispering when they thought she couldn’t hear. No people asking why she dressed the way she did. No questions about why she preferred hoodies over skirts. No comments about how she would “look prettier” if she smiled more. University was supposed to be different. Or at least quieter.Akira shifted her bag again,she wasn’t trying to make some statement. She simply liked being comfortable. She liked clothes she could move in. She liked keeping her hair tied up because it was practical and she liked saying what she meant. Some people interpreted that as cold. Others called her intimidating. One girl in secondary school had once told her she looked like the type of person who never laughed. Akira remembered laughing immediately after hearing that, the girl had looked horrified. People misunderstood her. That wasn’t new. She wasn’t cold. She just hated pretending. Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out. Mom: Don’t scare your roommate. Akira stared at the message, her thumbs hovered over the screen. Akira: I’m not scary. She pressed send. Three dots appeared instantly. Mom: That reply itself sounded scary. Akira stared. Then rolled her eyes. Typical. She locked her phone and slid it into her hoodie pocket. People always assumed things. She wondered if her future roommate would too. Hopefully not. Hopefully she’d get someone normal. Someone quiet. Someone who understood boundaries. Someone who wouldn’t invite people over constantly. Someone who wouldn’t talk too much. Someone who wouldn’t expect emotional bonding activities. She looked down at the paper in her hand. Student Residence Allocation Girls Hostel — Block C — Room 4B She sighed. Hopefully her roommate wouldn’t be annoying. — On the opposite side of campus— Morgan stopped walking for a moment and looked up.The university entrance stretched ahead of him and students moved everywhere. For a second, he simply stood there. Then smiled. This was it. A fresh start. A place where nobody already knew him. No school uniforms. No expectations. No people deciding who he should be before speaking to him. No comments disguised as advice. “You’d look better if you acted more masculine.” “Stop speaking so softly.” “People will misunderstand you.” Morgan had heard variations of those sentences for years. At first, he tried changing, then he stopped. Because no matter what he did, people always found something. Too quiet. Too expressive. Too careful. Too soft. Too polished. Eventually he realized something important. People made assumptions because assumptions were easier than understanding, so he stopped trying to explain himself.Morgan adjusted his grip on his suitcase. He liked beautiful things. Soft sweaters. Cute stationery. Warm colours. Music. Organized spaces. Slow mornings. That didn’t mean he lacked ambition. People confused softness with weakness too often. He wanted success. He wanted independence. He wanted to build a future where nobody got to decide what kind of person he was allowed to become. His phone lit up. Dad: Remember why you’re there. Morgan looked at the message quietly, then typed. Morgan: I know. He stared at the chat for another second. Then added another message. Study hard. Make you proud. He looked at it. Then deleted it. Instead, he locked the screen. Some things didn’t need to be said.He opened his residence confirmation. Student Residence Allocation Hostel:Girls ☆ Block C Room 4B Morgan blinked. He looked again. Girls? His expression shifted slightly as he checked his student details. Correct. Checked his name. Correct. Room. Correct. Girls? He frowned. Maybe the registration system grouped everyone together. Maybe blocks were mixed. Maybe hostel labels worked differently here. The campus was crowded. Staff members were busy. People moved too quickly to stop and ask. He stared at the paper one last time. Then shrugged. It would probably make sense later. He pulled his suitcase forward. No point worrying before confirming. — By late afternoon— Block C had become chaotic. Hallways echoed with conversations. Doors opened and closed constantly. Suitcases rolled over tiles. Parents carried boxes. Students introduced themselves. Some laughed. Some cried. Someone somewhere was already arguing. The energy felt strange. Like hundreds of people were trying to start new versions of themselves all at once. Room 4B sat near the end of the hallway. Akira arrived first. She unlocked the door. Click. She stepped inside. Small room. Two beds. Two desks. Two wardrobes. Simple. Functional. Good. One window. Enough space. Not too crowded. She placed her bag down. Claimed the bed closest to the window immediately. Started mentally organizing where things would go. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad. Then— Knock. Akira turned. Standing outside the half-open door was someone holding a suitcase. Soft sweater. Short dark hair. Pretty face. A hesitant smile. Their eyes met. Both paused. Then both looked at the room number. 4B. Silence. Morgan blinked. “…Hi.” Akira stared. “…Hi.” Morgan looked at his paper. Then at the room. Then raised the allocation slip. “I think I’m your roommate.” Akira looked at him. Then at the paper. Then back at him. Her eyebrows slowly pulled together. “…You?” Morgan tilted his head. “…Yeah?” Akira opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. She looked around. Girls Hostel. Room 4B. Back at him. Then the paper. Then him. For some reason— something felt wrong. Not dangerous. Not bad. Just… wrong. Like a sentence where one word didn’t fit. Morgan seemed to notice her hesitation. His smile became slightly awkward. “…Is there a problem?” Akira stared another second too long. Then stepped aside. “…No.” Morgan entered. Set his suitcase down. Looked around the room. Two beds. Two desks. Two wardrobes. Then looked at Akira. Then looked back at the room. His expression changed. Only slightly. Like he had just realized something. A small silence settled. Akira crossed her arms. Morgan looked at her. She looked at him. Neither said anything. Neither knew what question to ask first. Outside, people kept laughing. Doors kept opening. Life kept moving. Inside Room 4B— something had quietly gone wrong. And neither of them knew yet— that one tiny system error had already changed the course of their entire first year.