Chapter 2 ~ The Empty Room
1805 Words
{Macy’s POV}
“Text me when you get there, okay?”
Sophie smiled as she adjusted the strap of the duffel bag hanging from her shoulder.
“I willlll. You say that every five minutes.”
“That’s because you forget.”
“I do not forget.”
“You forgot your keys in the fridge last week.”
“That happened once.”
“Twice.”
She rolled her eyes, reaching for the last box sitting near the door. The apartment already looked strange without most of her things.
Half the shelves were empty.
The couch felt bigger than it used to.
Even the walls looked different somehow. Which was ridiculous.
Walls don’t change just because someone moves out.
Still.
The place felt… off.
Sophie paused at the door and looked back at me.
“Well,” she said, “this is weird.”
“Yeah.”
Graduation had seemed exciting when she first talked about it.
New job.
New city.
New life.
Now it mostly just felt like someone had quietly removed half the personality from this apartment.
“You’ll visit, right?” I asked.
“Of course.”
“And text.”
“Yes, Mom.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re older than me.”
“Emotionally, you’re forty.”
“That’s rude.”
She laughed and pulled me into a quick hug.
“Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will.”
She grabbed the last box. Then she stepped into the hallway.
The door closed behind her with a soft click, and just like that.. she was gone.
**
With the door’s click, the apartment went quiet.
Not normal quiet.
The kind of quiet that makes you suddenly aware of everything. The fridge humming. The clock ticking. The fact that no one is in the kitchen playing music at an unreasonable volume anymore.
I stood there for a second, staring at the door like it might open again.
It didn’t.
“Well,” I said to absolutely no one. Silence gave me a weird look.
I walked back into the living room slowly, taking in the space like I hadn’t seen it before. Same couch. Same table. Same slightly crooked bookshelf that we kept saying we’d fix and never did.
Only difference?
One less person.
Which shouldn’t feel like a big deal.
Except it did. A lot more than I was expecting, actually.
I dropped onto the couch, exhaling as I leaned back.
“This is fine,” I told myself.
It sounded convincing but it wasn’t. Not even a little bit.
I glanced toward the kitchen then, half-expecting Sophie to walk in and ask if I had seen her charger for the third time today.
Nothing.
Right.
She was gone.
And then, because my brain has excellent timing and absolutely no respect for emotional stability, it decided to bring up something important.
Rent.
I sat up immediately.
“Oh no.”
**
Panic is a very interesting experience.
It starts small. Manageable, and almost polite.
Then it grows.
And suddenly, you’re pacing your living room like you’re about to negotiate a hostage situation— with yourself.
“Okay,” I said, already moving. “Let’s not panic.”
I was already panicking.
I grabbed my phone and opened my bank app.
Stared.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Stared harder.
No.
No, that couldn’t be right.
I did the math.
Then I did the math again, just in case the numbers felt like changing out of pity.
They didn’t.
“Oh, this is bad,” I muttered.
Not bad like “oops, I forgot to buy milk.”
Bad like “I might not be evicted yet, but I’m definitely on the waiting list.”
I sat down.
Then stood up again immediately because sitting felt like acceptance, and I wasn’t ready for that.
“Okay. Solution,” I said, pointing at nothing. “We need a solution.”
Which is how I ended up knocking on Lila’s door ten minutes later.
Lila, my neighbor, opened the door halfway, took one look at me, and stepped aside.
“Wow,” I said, walking in. “That was fast. I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“You have panic face.”
“I do not have panic face.”
“You do. It’s the pacing. And the muttering.”
I paused.
“…Okay, that’s fair.”
She leaned against the table. “So… what’s the problem?”
“Sophie left.”
“I know. I saw her.”
“And now I have rent.”
“Yes. That tends to happen when you live somewhere.”
“No, you don’t understand,” I said quickly. “We were splitting it, but she was paying more, and now she’s gone, and I’m still here, and the landlord is definitely still here and still expecting money—”
“Get a roommate.”
I blinked.
“That was fast.”
“It’s the obvious solution, Macy.”
“Yes, but I thought we’d build up to it emotionally.”
“No.”
“…Okay, fair.”
**
Posting the listing felt strange.
Like I was publicly admitting defeat.
“Hi, I cannot afford to exist independently. Please apply within.”
I didn’t write that, obviously.
I made it sound normal. Casual. Like I had options.
I definitely did not have options.
Hence, I posted it and I waited.
**
The first girl arrived two hours later.
She was polite. Well-dressed. The type of person who probably owns matching furniture.
“Hi,” I said. “You’re here for the room?”
“Yes.”
She stepped in, looked around, nodded once. Then she looked at me.
Something shifted.
“Uhm,” she said.
Just that.
Uhm.
“I’ll think about it,” she resolved, already heading toward the door.
“Of course,” I said.
She left and I stared at the door.
“Well,” I muttered. “That’s encouraging.”
The second girl didn’t bother pretending when she arrived.
She walked in, looked around, then looked at me like she was solving a puzzle.
“Do you go to Westbridge?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Huh.”
That “huh” was not friendly.
“I think I’ve seen you.”
“Hopefully doing something normal,” I said jokingly with a laugh.
She didn’t smile. She didn’t find it funny.
“I don’t think this is going to work.”
And that was it.
She left and I stood there.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “That one felt less encouraging.”
The third one didn’t even pretend to consider it.
“You’re Macy, right?”
“Yes…”
“I’ve seen you around math building. You’re a nerd and move with nerds.”
Okay…
She glanced around the apartment, then back at me.
“I’ll pass.”
That was it.
No hesitation. No explanation.
Just… pass.
She walked out and I closed the door and stood there once again.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
A pause.
“Great.”
Nothing about this was great.
**
I ended up back at Lila’s place later. She handed me a drink without asking questions.
“I got rejected,” I said.
“All of them?”
“All of them.”
She nodded like that made sense.
Rude.
“Then expand your options,” she said.
“I already did.”
“More.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Define more.”
“Male roommate.”
I blinked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because I enjoy peace. And safety. And not being murdered.”
“You have two rooms,” she said calmly. “Separated by a hallway.”
I paused.
That was… true.
“And you need the money. A guy wouldn’t give all that drama for a room.”
Also true.
I thought about it.
Then I thought about rent again.
That helped.
“…Fine,” I said slowly. “But if it’s a male, he stays in the other room. We exist separately. Like two people who mind their business and respect boundaries.”
“That’s called being normal roommates.”
“Good. Then we’re aligned.”
**
By evening, I had updated the listing.
And then I sat at the table, pretending to do an assignment while I was actually thinking about my life choices.
Hours passed and I was deeply buried in my thoughts when my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
“Is the room still available?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“I’ll take it.”
I frowned.
“You don’t want to see the place first? I can send you the address.”
“No need.”
That was… concerning.
“Short stay. A couple of weeks.” Another text came in.
“That’s fine,” I typed.
Then—
*Payment received.*
I blinked.
Wait.
Just like that?
I checked again.
Still there.
“Well,” I said slowly. “That was… suspiciously easy.”
Suspicious.
But helpful.
**
The next morning, I used the money.
All of it.
I added it to the little savings I had and used it to pay the rent and keep the landlord away. He had glared at me during the transaction but his glare didn’t matter as long as he was kicking me out anytime soon.
So yeah. Problem solved.
I felt fulfilled sitting there on my bed now and for once since yesterday, I could properly breathe.
By evening, I had convinced myself everything was under control, and this was so until a knock sounded at the door.
I looked up from the table.
“That should be him,” I said, more to fill the silence than anything else.
New roommate.
Male roommate.
Still a little weird to think about, but I had already made peace with it. Two rooms. A hallway in between. Minimal interaction. Maximum boundaries.
We would coexist peacefully. Like strangers with a shared electricity bill.
Simple.
I stood up, brushing my hands against my jeans as I walked toward the door.
No panic.
No overthinking.
Just a normal human being answering her door like this was a completely normal situation.
Which it was.
Technically.
I reached for the handle, pulled the door open, and—
And then I froze.
I stood there frozen from head to toe because standing right in front of me was…
Wait.
I blinked once.
Then again. Like that might fix it.
It didn’t.
Nathan Cole was in front of me.
I fought with my mind, eyes, and reality, and soon came to the conclusion that this was real. He was real.
The jerk panty-dropping playboy of Westbridge was at my doorstep… as the roommate I was supposed to receive.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
- Writer
