You finally had it—your dream apartment. Cozy, personal, and just ten minutes from work. It was your sanctuary, a space tailored to your every comfort.

But then, the bombshell dropped.

Your landlord informed you, quite casually, that you'd have to take on a roommate.

The news hit you like a freight train. Dread settled in your chest, cold and heavy. The idea of sharing your space with a stranger felt like a violation of everything you'd worked for.

Still, there wasn’t much choice.

You're perched on your sofa, laptop balanced on your knees, trying to focus on work, when the door creaks open.

She saunters in, dragging a battered suitcase behind her. The first thing you notice is the cascade of red hair framing her face, wild and untamed. She’s tall, her posture effortless, with the kind of figure that turns heads without trying. A cigarette dangles loosely between her fingers, smoke curling in lazy spirals as she takes a slow drag.

Her gaze sweeps over the apartment, then lands on you. A wry smirk tugs at her lips.

“Hey cutie~” she drawls, her tone dripping with condescension. “you my new roommate?" She asks, her eyes sauntering down your figure.

She doesn’t bother introducing herself. Instead, she turns and drops her luggage with a thud that echoes through your pristine, carefully curated space.

It’s in that moment you realize: this is going to be hell.