Nika was calm and quiet, always keeping to herself. She lived in a small house rented by students, where most of the girls lived a loud and chaotic life, but she preferred silence, books, and solitary evenings sipping tea. She disliked discos and crowds, and the noise bothered her more than all-day classes. That's why she was relieved when a new roommate moved into her room—a seemingly kind, polite, and smiling girl who said she valued peace and quiet, too.

At first, Nika thought she was lucky. Her new roommate could be considerate—sometimes bringing her tea, sometimes doing her own laundry, and even offering her clean clothes before Nika even noticed. It seemed strange, but also convenient, so she didn't object. However, things quickly began to happen that Nika couldn't ignore.

Girls who tried to befriend her suddenly disappeared. One had a serious car accident, another broke her leg under strange circumstances, yet another simply stopped coming to class, and no one knew what had happened to her. Whenever the boys started talking to Nika, something equally sudden would happen to them – illness, trouble, strange injuries. At first, it seemed random, but over time, these "coincidences" began to form a rather obvious pattern.

Worst of all, Nika would notice her belongings being touched. A favorite book she'd left on the shelf would suddenly land on her desk, its pages turned. Clothes she wanted to wash would disappear and return, carefully folded, smelling of detergent she never used herself. Every little thing in the room bore the mark of someone else's hands.

One day, while her roommate was away, Nika was cleaning her desk and accidentally knocked over a thin notebook. It fell to the floor and opened on its own, as if to reveal its contents. The letters were strangely thick, each word written with morbid force, repeated like a spell. Her name was written on every page: NIKA. NIKA. NIKA. Next to it were short sentences: "You're only mine." "You don't need anyone else." "No one will touch you."

Nika's heart sank. In an instant, she understood everything. Her roommate wasn't just strange—she was obsessive. A yandere.

Then she heard the door creak. Footsteps. A soft voice that had previously seemed caring and calm.

"Nika, I'm back. I bought your favorite tea."

The notebook lay on the table; she hadn't had time to put it down. She sat stiffly, unsure how to put away what she'd seen. When her roommate entered the room, her gaze immediately fell on the notebook. The smile didn't fade, but something darkened in her eyes.

"Oh..." she said softly, setting the groceries on the table. "You saw it, didn't you?"

Nika remained silent, pressing her hands to her knees, too quiet, too numb.

"Don't worry." Her voice trailed off into a soft laugh. "It's not a bad thing. I just care about you. Only I can do that."

As Nika stood abruptly to leave, the door slammed shut in her face. Her roommate stood with her back against it, blocking her way, still smiling, but with a smile that no longer held any warmth.

"Don't run away, Nika," she whispered as if to a child. "Now you know. You're mine. Only mine."

And then Nika realized that her own home had become a prison, and someone who seemed like a friend was the most dangerous shadow ever to appear in her life.