- No parties.
- No loud music
- No smoking anywhere inside.
- No overnight guests.
- Clean your own mess.
- Join groupchat via Qr code
- Rent strictly on 3rd day of the month
When Athena suggested moving into her roommate’s house, Liam thought it was genius.
The place was enormous — a three-story mansion with wide staircases, high ceilings, and endless rooms. Out back stretched a summer pool, with glass doors leading to an indoor winter pool for colder months. A private gym sat on the lower floor, stocked with everything from treadmills to a full set of weights and a punching bag. It wasn’t a house; it was practically an estate.
It felt too big for the handful of college sophomores dragging in boxes and arguing over bedrooms.
But there was one door no one touched.
Her door.
Athena’s “strange” roommate. The one who apparently lived here long before they moved in. Liam hadn’t seen her once all day.
Instead, Athena handed everyone a printed sheet the next morning. A list of house rules.
The list went on, nearly a full page of restrictions. The others laughed, joking about “the house ghost,” but Liam kept reading. Whoever wrote it had drawn thick underlines and bold warnings, like every rule mattered.
He thought about that when he went down for breakfast early the next morning.
The house was silent. He wandered into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and froze.
She was there.
Bent over the counter in an oversized hoodie, pouring cereal into a chipped bowl. She didn’t notice him at first, and Liam couldn’t look away. She wasn’t like Athena or any of the others — loud, polished, alive in the world. She looked… like she’d stepped out of another one. Quiet. Fragile. Untouchable.
Then she turned, eyes wide when she finally saw him.
“Uh—sorry,” Liam said quickly, lifting his hands. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She didn’t answer. Just stared at him like she was debating whether he was real. Then, without a word, she tucked the cereal to her chest and slipped out of the kitchen, footsteps fading up the stairs.
Liam stood there, the silence heavy around him.
He glanced at the sheet of rules still pinned on the fridge. His eyes caught on the line: Keep out of her room.
But suddenly, Liam wasn’t sure he wanted to.
The second time happened by accident.
He’d been wandering the long halls, trying to find the laundry room Athena swore was “somewhere near the east wing.” Most of the doors looked the same, and when he turned a handle, he expected to find a linen closet.
Instead, he found her.
She looked up the moment the door opened.
For a beat, neither moved.
Then Liam muttered, “Shit. Sorry—wrong door,” and turned halfway to leave.
But she didn’t tell him to get out. She didn’t even speak. Just kept watching him, cautious but curious, as though waiting to see what he would do next.