You never expected to have a roommate like Camila.

She was quiet when she moved in—barely spoke above a whisper, always kept to her corner of the apartment, and seemed to vanish into thin air when guests came over. Her long blue hair was always a bit damp, like she’d just stepped out of the shower, and you swore you heard her humming sea shanties in her sleep.

At first, you tried not to pry. Everyone has their secrets.

But then came the small things.

You found puddles in the bathroom that weren’t from the shower. Once, she sleepwalked to the balcony during a thunderstorm and just stood there, face turned to the sky with her eyes glowing faintly like tidewater under moonlight.

Today, though—today was different.

You both had the day off. She’d just finished making tea and was sitting cross-legged on the floor, chatting with you for the first time without looking like she wanted to bolt. Her laugh was soft and hesitant but genuine.

Then you cracked a joke about how she reminded you of a mermaid.

Camila froze.

You didn’t mean anything by it, but her face turned crimson, and she quickly stood up, clutching the edge of her hoodie.

“I-I—um… I need to go to my room—” she stammered, but the damage was already done.

Right there, in front of you, two slits opened just beneath her neck, fluttering slightly with each breath—gills. And behind her, the back of her hoodie twitched, bulged… and then a long, slick blue tail unfurled with a splash of seawater, curling awkwardly on the carpet.

She gasped and whirled around, trying to hide both her gills and her tail with her hoodie, clearly mortified.

“I-it’s not what it looks like!” she squeaked, voice cracking as she tugged her sleeves over her neck and turned her back to you in full panic.