His Roommate Poisoned His Mind Just To Steal Me Away
Pushing the apartment door open, I stepped into a noisy, chaotic, takeout-fueled party.
The awkward silence that followed my arrival was deafening.
Everyone left shortly after, the good cheer evaporated.
We started fighting.
He accused me of making a scene in front of his friends, of deliberately embarrassing him.
I was defensive, trying to explain the sheer exhaustion of flying back and forth every other weekend.
He cut me off, cold and impatient: You didnt have to come. No one forced you to make it so hard on yourself.
Later, he got his wish.
But then he panicked: Willow, why arent you coming to see me anymore?
1
The day before Owens birthday, I called him. My voice was filled with manufactured regret as I told him I had continuous rehearsals for the upcoming winter gala and wouldn't be able to make it to Metropolis. He was gentle, saying he understood.
The next afternoon, the moment our departments main rehearsal wrapped, I rushed to the airport.
Of course I had lied.
Since elementary school, I had been by Owen's side for every single one of his birthdays. How could I skip this year? I was just trying to tease him a little, to make the surprise even better.
An hour and a half later, I landed in Metropolis, then took a nearly two-hour taxi ride to the apartment he rented near the university.
I took out my key, slipped it into the lock, and quietly opened the door.
The vision I had of Owen sitting alone, maybe having a simple dinner, vanished.
Instead, the tiny living room was packed. Ten or so people were crammed around the coffee table, a feast of takeout containers and beer bottles spread out before them. The air was thick with loud chatter and sudden, dead silence the moment I appeared.
Everyone turned, staring at me with a look of collective surprise.
Owen was the first to react. What are you doing here?
He didnt even stand up to greet me.
His expression was a strange mix of shock, confusion, and a flicker of unmistakable annoyance. But there was absolutely zero joy. I saw it clear as day.
Mindful that his friends were watching, I forced myself to maintain a semblance of composure. I smiled brightly and held up the cake box in my hand. Happy Birthday! I came to celebrate with you.
You told me you were tied up with rehearsal, he said, his tone flat.
I was barely holding the fake smile in place, swallowing back a sudden surge of tears. Could you please take this? And my bag?
A look of self-reproach crossed his face, and he finally scrambled to his feet, taking the cake and my small carry-on bag.
Someone laughed, trying to cut the tension. Owen, is this the famous girlfriend? No wonder youve been hiding hershes a knockout! If I had a girlfriend like that, Id keep her secret too!
Next to the speaker, a girls face noticeably darkened. A moment later, she recovered, offering me a wide, bright smile. Hes right, Owen. Its a shame your girlfriend is an artist and doesnt exactly speak our language, but were not scary, Willow. Next time, feel free to join us!
The tone was patronizing, dripping with superiority.
I looked at the girl, who was clearly not my friend. She wore rimless glasses and was conventionally pretty, possessing an intense, scholarly air. Her eyes held a kind of intellectual arrogance that seemed ill-suited to her age.
The spot right next to her was empty. It was where Owen had been sitting.
Ten people around one small coffee table meant they had been practically pressed together. I could easily picture the scene just before I walked in.
Suddenly, my eyes were drawn to her feet.
Unlike everyone else, who wore house slipperssome even the disposable hotel kindthis girl was in thick wool socks. Her socked feet were resting on a square, crocheted trivet. It had a red and green geometric pattern, the stitching tight and perfectly even.
It was the one I had made.
2
I usually kept that trivet tucked away, only bringing it out when I was staging food photos for my social media.
Noticing me staring at her feet, the girl nervously shifted on the mat.
Oh, I mentioned my feet were a little cold just on the rug, so Owen grabbed this for me to put down, the girl said, her voice sounding a little too careful. Is this yours? Im sorry, I used it without permission.
I walked straight up to her and held out my hand.
Give it to me.
Huh? Her face went blank.
The mat. Hand it over.
Oh.
She pulled the trivet from under her feet and handed it to me. I took the small piece of handiwork and walked over to the garbage can, dropping it in.
Its not for wiping your feet on, I stated coolly.
Her expression immediately crumbled into one of wounded innocence. She pursed her lips, looking wronged and yet determined to be the bigger person.
Owen walked over and grabbed my arm, pulling me back slightly.
Willow. You crossed a line.
I crossed a line? I yanked my arm away. Owen, are you out of your mind?
Seeing that we were about to have a full-blown row, the others quickly got up.
Right, well, since the girlfriend is here, well take off. Happy birthday, Owen!
They made their quick, silent exit, putting on their shoes and closing the door behind them. The girl, Serena, shot a final, tearful look at Owen on her way out.
When we were finally alone in the apartment, Owen turned on me, his eyes cold.
Satisfied? You drove everyone off.
Youre mad that I crashed your party? That your girlfriend showed up on your birthday?
Owen pressed the heel of his hand against his foreheadhis tell for maximum frustration. I didnt say you shouldnt come, I just He took a deep breath. Willow, those are my lab colleagues. You showed up and gave everyone the cold shoulder. You made me look like an absolute fool.
How am I supposed to face them tomorrow?
I laughed, a short, sharp sound. Is it them, or is it her youre worried about facing?
A flash of raw anger crossed his features. What are you talking about? Serena is just a colleague.
Serena? I was genuinely surprised. Thats Serena?
The Serena. The one whose name had been popping up in every phone call, every casual conversation with Owen for months?
Theres a new girl in the lab, Serena.
I got paired with Serena today. Hope she doesnt tank my project.
Serena is pretty useless, but she owns up to her mistakes so quickly, its hard to stay mad at her.
Serena brought me a coffee this morning. Does she think Im that easily bribed?
Serena said she wanted to take me out for lunch
3
At first, I hadnt thought anything of it.
But when the Serena content in his conversations exceeded any normal threshold, I started to get wary.
Are you developing a crush on that Serena? Id asked him once over the phone.
Hed laughed, open and easy. Me? Like Serena? Are you kidding?
Willow, I have you. The perfect girlfriend. Why would I even look at anyone else?
That had calmed my fears, somewhat. But my gut still hadnt relaxed.
After that conversation, Owen stopped mentioning her name entirely. I assumed their project had ended, their paths had diverged. I slowly started to forget about Serena.
But I was wrong. It wasn't that their paths had diverged; it was that they were no longer intersecting in front of me. Who knew how far things had progressed behind my back?
Owen, oblivious to my mounting fury, grew more aggressive. He pointed to the trash can. You threw that mat in front of Serena. You publicly shamed her, practically called her beneath you. Dont you think thats incredibly venomous?
Venomous.
I never thought Owen would use that word against me. Especially not to defend another woman. He was heartbroken that I had made Serena uncomfortable.
Im not a naturally expressive person, and in moments of extreme rage, I tend to become dangerously calm.
Owen, I spent countless late nights crocheting that trivet. It was a painstaking project, used to prop up dishes for food photos. And you handed it to another woman to wipe her feet on.
I He sputtered, on shaky ground. I didnt know it was that important.
You didnt know? I staged photos with that mat right in front of you a dozen times! I told you the whole story about learning to crochet, about how I messed up a stitch and had to unravel the entire thing and start over. I told you all of that! My voice finally cracked, emotions spilling out.
Owen slumped into his familiar pose of weary frustration. My head is full of experimental data every day! I dont have the mental space to catalog your arts and crafts projects!
Yes, youre busy! I snapped, cutting him off. Your experiments are paramount, and my life is just a quaint little footnote! Maybe we shouldnt talk at all anymore. Since anything I say just goes in one ear and out the other.
Willow, dont be dramatic!
I laughed, a hollow sound. Im dramatic? Owen, do you think youre the only person in the world whos busy? That what you do is intellectually superior? Youre a brilliant grad student at a prestigious university, and Im just a dancer. So Im inferior to you, is that it?
I never said that. He denied it instantly.
You didnt use the words, but your actions screamed it. You stopped bringing me to your group events because I dont share your esoteric conversations.
Guilt flickered in Owens eyes, but he still wouldnt admit it. Youre overthinking everything.
Then why did you stop? When we first started dating, you were so excited to introduce me to your roommates. We ate dinner together, went out, did things. Then it was less and less. And then never at all. You started keeping your plans secret!
Owen sighed, attempting patience. They like to play those intense escape rooms and murder mystery games. You always complained that you couldnt follow along.
I was pretending to complain! You made me feel like an idiot! You think Im not smart enough. I dont care what your friends thought; I only wanted you to pay attention to me. You were my boyfriend! But you were embarrassed, werent you? You decided your girlfriend was a liability.
I was not!
You were! Why else did you stop bringing me around? Why did you give up the easy path of staying at Riverwood for grad school just to move a thousand miles away to Metropolis U?
Metropolis U is objectively better than Riverwood U! Is it wrong for me to pursue the best academic path? And why are you digging up old history? Lets stick to the issue at hand!
4
Fine. Lets stick to the issue at hand. Today is your birthday. Ive been rehearsing until midnight for the last two weeks, just so I could clear my schedule and fly here to be with you. You are not the only one who is exhausted. Ive been running from one rehearsal to the next, preparing for my graduation showcase. Even bathroom breaks are a sprint.
You moved to Metropolis six months ago, and I, out of respect for your workload, have flown out here every two weeks to see you. Do you think this constant travel is easy for me? Don't you think your girlfriend is working hard, too?
You have never once shown an ounce of gratitude or empathy for how much effort this takes. I laid out the simple, crushing facts of my life.
You didnt have to come. No one forced you to make it so hard on yourself. His voice was flat, empty of feeling.
Excuse me? I stared at him in disbelief.
I told you months ago you dont have to constantly fly here. Well be reunited when you move to a dance company in Metropolis. You wouldnt listen, you insisted on coming this often. He was radiating impatience.
The world went silent.
In that moment, I understood the meaning of a cold heart.
Before every trip, Id rearrange my classes and my life. An hour on the subway to the airport, a ninety-minute flight, another long taxi. Was it tiring? Yes. But the sheer joy of seeing him always eclipsed the fatigue. After two short days, I would repeat the exhausting journey in reverse.
I had foolishly believed he, if not grateful for my sacrifice, at least looked forward to our time together.
I was wrong.
He didn't share my anticipation. In fact, our monthly meetings were a burden, an irritation that chipped away at his patience.
If I had known this, why would I have put myself through all of that?
Okay.
After a long stretch of silence, I finally spoke.
What? He looked confused, not following.
I clarified: I wont be coming anymore.
A look of visible relief washed over him. Ive been telling you, well be together in six months. This constant travel is unnecessary.
I managed a dry laugh and nodded.
When I picked up my suitcase, he frowned. Where are you going?
Back to Riverwood.
Its the middle of the night. Leave tomorrow morning. He offered a grudging kindness.
I have rehearsal tomorrow morning. I took time off, but now I realize I dont need the extra day. Theres a late-night train; I can still catch it.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me into a tight hug, his voice dropping into a husky, familiar purr near my ear. Why dont you just stay the night? Ill drive you to the airport in the morning?
I pushed him away, my face expressionless. No, thank you.
Perhaps my rejection wounded his pride. On the way to the train station, Owen didnt say a word to me. He sat stiffly, head bowed, furiously tapping on his phone. Who he was texting, I could only imagine.
When we arrived, he silently pulled my suitcase from the trunk. I took it, and as I turned to walk away, he called out.
Serena and I are completely innocent, but shes worried this misunderstanding will affect our working relationship. She insists on explaining herself. I just sent you her contact. Add her.
5
Sitting on the high-speed train, I accepted the new contact request.
It was nearly two in the morning, but she replied instantly.
Hi Willow, this is Serena. Im so sorry about the mat today, Owen just handed it to me and put it down under my feet, I honestly didnt realize it wasnt meant for that.
Please dont be mad at him. Boys can be so clumsy and thoughtless about things like that.
But while he might be thoughtless in life, hes truly brilliant in his studies, and hes been such a mentor to me.
Once I messed up some key data, and he took the blame entirely, taking the full force of the professors frustration.
Overall, Owen is talented and responsiblea rare and wonderful boyfriend. It would be a crime if I were the reason you two had a misunderstanding.
I didnt reply, letting her stream of passive-aggressive apologies wash over me.
But the next message wiped the look of mild amusement off my face.
It was a photo of a box of Artisan Salted Caramel Tartlets.
Immediately following, there was a money transfer.
These are a specialty from your area, right? I tried one at Owens place a while ago and loved them, so I asked him if he could bring me some sometime. I had no idea he was getting me a fresh box every week! He refused to take any money. Please, transfer this to him for me. I hate feeling like Im taking advantage.
The memory flashed into my mind.
Three months ago, Owen had called me, his voice a rare mix of longing and a hint of a plea. I didnt realize it when I lived in Riverwood, but Ive developed an obsession with those Salted Caramel Tartlets.
Tartlets? Id been confused. Didnt I bring you two boxes last time I visited?
I shared them all with the lab, hed said, a sheepish laugh in the receiver. I miss them now. I even dream of them at night.
Should I ship some?
Thanks, Willow. Youre the best.
From then on, he had asked me to send them regularly. Worried they wouldnt be fresh if I shipped too many at once, Id made a habit of stopping by the bakery every week to send him a fresh box.
It turned out I wasn't buying them for him at all. They were gifts for Serena.
I felt like a complete fool.
Without a second thought, I tapped the screen and accepted the money transfer. I bought the tartlets, and I spent the money. I had no reason to feel embarrassed.
Serena, probably not expecting me to actually take the cash, fell silent.
After a long pause, I blocked her number.
Back at school, I went straight to my department head the next morning. She had always encouraged me to join the local Riverwood Dance Company, a suggestion I had previously dismissed because of Owen.
Professor, Ive decided I want to audition for the Riverwood Dance Company. Could I ask you for some guidance?
Her face lit up with surprise. You finally came to your senses!
6
Ive always been a homebody. Even in college, which was still in the state, Id run home whenever possible.
Metropolis held no special allure for me.
The only reason I had grit my teeth and resolved to follow Owenauditioning for a dance company there after graduationwas that he was going to grad school there and planning to apply for research work after.
Now, I realized my efforts and sacrifices were meaningless. My presence, my future, meant nothing to him.
If he didnt anticipate our meetings, and he didnt look forward to our future, why was I bending over backward?
I might not be an academic star like Owen, but I was successful in my own right. Id been dancing since childhood, praised for both my talent and work ethic. Id been accepted to the Riverwood Dance Conservatory with the top score in my class.
I was my professors favorite.
She strongly recommended the Riverwood Dance Company, where she had spent ten years of her career. She said the opportunities were abundant, the network was strong, and the potential for growth was huge.
I was incredibly tempted. With my professors guidance and my talent, joining the RDC meant a bright, secure future.
Crucially, it meant being close to home. I could see my parents every week, have dinner with them, and drink my dads special soup. I didnt have grand ambitions; this was my vision of a good life.
But for Owen, I had been willing to give it all up.
When we first started college, Owen had planned to stay at Riverwood for grad school. But in our final year, hed changed his mind, suddenly obsessed with Metropolis U.
We fought about it.
Owen had lashed out, accusing me of holding him back. He claimed that he could have gone to a better college in Metropolis years ago, but hed stayed at Riverwood for me.
My professors and friends say Im underachieving here. Willow, are you going to hold me back a second time? His voice had been sharp with accusation.
I was shocked into submission. Simple and naive, I took his accusation to heart, believing I really had damaged his future. I apologized and gave him my full support. He was a year ahead of me, and I promised him: Ill graduate next year and follow you to Metropolis. Ill audition for a company there, and well settle down.
Looking back, I was laughably stupid.
In high school, Owen had talked constantly about Riverwood University. It was his parents alma mater; hed called it his dream. When he got his acceptance letter, he said his dream had come true.
How had that history been rewritten into, I only stayed for you?
After meeting with my professor to discuss the RDC requirements, I stepped out of her office just as my phone rang. It was Owen.
He started right in with his grievance. You took her money?
Yes, I did. I didn't back down.
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