ACCIDENTAL ROOMMATE

Ache

The breeze near the lake grew cooler as the sun slowly disappeared behind the campus buildings.

For a while, Ethan and I stayed sitting on the bench, talking occasionally about random things—how confusing the campus map was, how terrible the dorm elevators were, and how orientation leaders somehow had too much energy all the time.

Then Ethan checked his phone and stood up.

“I’m gonna go see if that coffee place is actually real,” he said. “I need caffeine if I’m surviving tomorrow.”

I smiled faintly.

“Good luck.”

He pointed at me jokingly.

“If I never return, tell people I died searching for iced coffee.”

“I’ll make sure they know.”

He laughed softly before starting down the pathway.

After a few steps, he looked back briefly.

“You staying here?”

“Probably for a little while.”

He nodded.

“Alright. See you later, roommate.”

The word still sounded strange.

But not as strange as it had yesterday.

I watched him disappear down the pathway before leaning back against the bench again.

The lake grew quieter as the evening darkened, but the campus around it was still alive.

Groups of students walked past laughing loudly. Some sat on the grass in circles talking like they had already known each other forever.

A group nearby was taking pictures together while another group argued playfully about where to eat dinner.

I watched them silently.

And suddenly, an uncomfortable feeling settled in my chest.

Jealousy.

Not the dramatic kind.

Just a quiet ache.

How did people do it so easily?

How were they already making friends after barely one day?

Meanwhile, I still felt completely out of place.

Back home, I didn’t have a huge friend group either.

Just Lily.

And Ryan.

That realization hit harder than I expected.

Because for a long time, Ryan wasn’t just my boyfriend.

He was my best friend too.

The person I told everything to.

The person I texted first whenever something happened.

And now that he was gone—or at least different—it felt like part of my life had disappeared with him.

I looked around again at the people laughing together.

Maybe this was why college scared me so much.

Everyone else seemed so good at connecting with people.

And I… wasn’t.

Even now, sitting alone by the lake, I felt more like someone watching college happen instead of actually being part of it.

My phone buzzed again.

I didn’t even need to check to know it was probably Ryan.

For once, I ignored it completely.

Instead, I rested my chin against my knees and kept watching the people around me.

A girl nearby was laughing so hard she almost spilled her drink while her friends teased her.

Another group walked past talking loudly about parties happening later that week.

Everything felt so easy for them.

I wondered if something was wrong with me for struggling this much already.

Maybe I was too quiet.

Too awkward.

Too attached to the past.

My thoughts drifted back to Ryan again before I could stop them.

He used to make things easier.

Whenever I felt awkward somewhere, he always knew how to make me comfortable.

Now I was here alone, trying to figure out how to start over without him.

The thought made my chest tighten.

I pulled my hoodie sleeves over my hands and looked down at the water.

The reflection of the campus lights shimmered softly across the lake.

For the first time since arriving here, homesickness crept in quietly.

Not just for home itself.

But for familiarity.

For the people who used to make life feel less lonely.

I sighed softly and finally checked my phone.

Another reel from Ryan.

No actual message.

Just another video.

I stared at the notification for a few seconds before locking my screen again without opening it.

For some reason, that hurt more than if he had said nothing at all.