The End of One-Sided Friendship

When my senses returned, I found myself lying on the hard-as-a-board bed of my college dorm room.

The scene before me was so familiar it was chillingStella stood in the middle of the room, her eyes red, clutching a white shirt that had been stained a garish pink.

This moment was an exact replica of the morning that had altered the course of my life.

In my past life, I impulsively stood up for her, and in doing so, declared war on my entire class. On graduation day, while everyone else was huddled together taking photos, I was the only one dragging my suitcase out of the campus gates alone. Stella stood in the center of the crowd, her eyes shimmering with tears as she looked at me. Her lips moved, but in the end, she said nothing.

Later, in a cramped rental apartment, I chose to end my life with charcoal poisoning. My suicide note was a single sentence: The biggest regret of this life was fighting so many battles for Stella.

Now, reborn, all I want is to stay out of it.

I silently fumbled under my pillow for my earbuds and put them in, cranking the volume to maximum.

This time, her problems were her own to solve.

When I opened my eyes, the light in the dorm room was identical to how it was in my past life.

Stella stood in the center of the room, her eyes red, biting her lower lip, her hands wringing that pink-stained white shirt. Jenna was sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Beth was at the vanity, meticulously drawing her eyebrows. No one was looking at Stella.

I had been through this scene once before.

In my past life, this was the moment I leaped out of bed and pointed a finger at Jenna, screaming, "Why would you wash a red shirt with Stella's white one?"

Jenna and I screamed at each other for half an hour while Beth fanned the flames from the side. Through it all, Stella never said a word, just stood there with her red-rimmed eyes.

Later, the story spread through the entire class. The version that reached my ears was: Zoe got into a huge fight with her whole dorm for Stella's sake. Poor Stella, having such an explosive roommate. If Stella wasn't so sweet, they would have probably come to blows.

I confronted Stella about it.

With tears in her eyes, she said, "I never said any of that. They're just spreading rumors."

Then she turned around and told Jenna, "I wasn't actually mad. It's just that Zoe is so impulsive. I couldn't stop her."

That was the first time I learned that some people aren't incapable of fighting.

They just don't have to fight for themselves.

"Zoe." Stella's voice was a thin, fragile thread, as if she had suffered a terrible injustice. She saw that I was awake. "Look at my shirt..."

As she spoke, her gaze drifted toward Jenna's bunk before quickly snapping back to my face.

I knew that look all too wella mix of hurt, hope, and a certainty that said, You'll help me, won't you?

In my past life, every time she gave me that look, I would leap out of bed, ready for battle.

I glanced at her.

I pulled my earbuds from under the pillow and stuck them in my ears.

I turned the volume all the way up.

Stella froze.

She clearly hadn't expected this reaction. In our previous life, I was already in Jenna's face by now.

She just stood there, clutching the pink shirt, her mouth opening and closing like a fish stranded on the shore.

The look in her eyes changed.

It shifted from certainty to confusion, and from confusion to unease.

Jenna looked up from her phone, her eyes darting from me to Stella.

Beth's eyebrow pencil paused mid-air.

The dorm was silent for three seconds.

"Stella, what happened to your shirt?" Jenna asked, frowning.

Stella's eyes grew even redder. "I... it's nothing." She lowered her head, her voice a mosquito's buzz. "I probably just put it in the wrong place by accident. It's fine, it's just a shirt."

She folded the shirt neatly and put it away in her locker. Her movements were light, slow. Every detail screamed: I'm enduring this. I've been wronged, but I won't say a word.

In my past life, it was this exact performance that sent me into a rage. I thought she was too soft, too easy to bully. I believed I had to be her champion.

It was only much later that I found out Jenna hadn't stained the shirt at all.

Stella had soaked her own red socks with the white shirt, then deliberately slipped it into Jennas laundry pile. Jenna was notoriously careless and never sorted her clothes. Stella had observed her for a whole week, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Before my rebirth, Stella and I were roommates for four years.

The first year, I fought with Jenna for her.

The second year, I fought with the girls in the room next door for her.

The third year, I fought with our academic advisor for her.

By the fourth year, none of the girls in our class would speak to me. Stella was the only one who was still willing to be my friend. I was incredibly grateful.

I got drunk on graduation day and cried in her arms, sobbing, "Stella, you're the only friend I made in all four years of college."

She cried too, saying, "Zoe, you're my best friend, too."

After graduation, we rented an apartment together.

When she brought her boyfriend over, I moved out to sleep on the living room sofa.

When she said money was tight, I covered her share of the rent for three months.

When she complained about work stress, I stayed up until 3 a.m. doing her overtime projects.

Then one day, I came home from work early and heard her on the balcony, talking on the phone.

"Oh, it's fine. Zoe's just impulsive and has a temper, but she's really good to me. Yeah, she's just a simpleton. I just have to say a few soft words and she'll do anything for me. The rent? She's paid my share for three months. I haven't paid her back yet. No rush, she'd never ask for it."

Her tone was light, tinged with a little laugh.

Like she was talking about a well-trained pet.

I stood in the living room for a long time.

When she finished her call and saw me, she flinched, then put on that familiar, slightly wounded expression. "Zoe? What are you doing home? I thought you were working late today."

"It got canceled," I said.

She just said, "Oh," and didn't ask how long I'd been standing there. She probably figured it didn't matter even if I had heard.

After all, I was just that foolish.

Later, I became more and more marginalized at work. The overtime I did for her was all credited to her name. She was promoted to manager. I was laid off.

I laid in our rental, not leaving the apartment for a month.

Stella moved out. She said the commute to her office was too far.

As she was leaving, she stood at the door, her eyes red. "Zoe, take care of yourself."

The door closed.

I lay back down on the bed and never got up again.

My suicide note was a single sentence: The biggest regret of my life was fighting so many battles for Stella.

In the first week of my new life, I didn't stand up for Stella once.

She and Jenna argued over the air conditioner temperature. After a few sharp words, Stella came to me, eyes red, wanting me to mediate.

She looked at me with that familiar, wounded expression, like a small animal caught in the rain, waiting for someone to offer it an umbrella.

I said, "You two should work it out. I'm fine with whatever temperature you decide on."

She was taken aback, clearly not expecting me to say that. The hurt in her eyes froze for a second, then melted into confusion. In my past life, I would have already been confronting Jenna.

That night, for the first time, Stella didn't sigh dramatically after the lights went out. She was probably still processing it.

The next day at noon, I was coming back from the cafeteria and heard Stella on the phone in the stairwell.

"Mom, I'm fine... It's just, my roommate seems to be in a bad mood lately. Maybe I did something wrong. It's okay, I'll figure it out. Yeah, don't worry about me."

Her voice was full of manufactured fragility, the ends of her words trembling slightly. After she hung up, she leaned against the wall, her eyes red.

When she saw me coming up the stairs, she hastily wiped her eyes and forced a smile. "Zoe, you're back from lunch?"

"Yeah."

"What did they have at the cafeteria today?"

"Sweet and sour pork, scrambled eggs with tomato."

"Oh." She paused. "I haven't eaten yet."

Before, I would have said, "I'll go with you."

This time, I just nodded, walked past her, and went back to the dorm.

She stood in the hallway for a long time.

On the third day, the RA posted the new cleaning schedule in the group chat. Stella was assigned the Wednesday morning shift, 5:30 to 7:00 a.m., responsible for the entire floor's common areas. It was the worst shiftyou had to wake up before dawn, take out all the trash, and mop the entire floor.

In the past, whenever the schedule came out, Stella would always get the worst shifts and she'd never say a word. I was always the one who would @ the RA in the group chat, demanding, "Why does Stella always get stuck with the hardest shift?"

Then the RA and I would argue, Jenna and Beth would watch for entertainment, and Stella would stay silent. Afterward, she would message me privately: Zoe, it's really okay. I don't mind waking up early. You're putting me in a difficult position.

This time, the schedule came out again. Stella sat on her bed looking at her phone. After a moment, she let out a soft sigh. She put her phone down and looked at me.

Her eyes held that familiar look of expectation, waiting for me to solve her problem. Her eyes were slightly red, her lips pressed together.

"Zoe, did you see the cleaning schedule?"

"I saw it."

"I got the Wednesday morning shift." She paused. "The trash cans are always overflowing at that time. I don't think I can carry them by myself."

"Then you should talk to the RA," I said, turning a page in my book. "Ask him to reassign it, or schedule two people for that shift."

Her expression stiffened. A crack appeared in her hopeful gaze.

"But... the RA isn't very easy to talk to. I'm afraid he'll think I'm being dramatic."

"Then wake up early. It's only 5:30."

She didn't say anything else. The hope in her eyes died completely.

That night, after lights out, I heard her tossing and turning in the bunk across from me.

At 5:00 a.m. on Wednesday, her alarm went off. Stella fumbled in the dark to get up, dress, and tiptoe out of the room.

When I got up at 7:30, she was already back, sitting on the edge of her bed. Her hair was damp from a shower. Her eyes were red. I couldn't tell if it was from exhaustion or from crying.

Jenna glanced at her. "All done?"

"Yeah." Stella managed a smile. "It wasn't as bad as I thought."

Jenna just grunted and went back to her phone.

Stella looked at me.

Her expression was different now. It was no longer hurt or expectant. It was something more complexas if she was asking, Why have you changed? while also trying to confirm something.

I didn't meet her gaze.

She lowered her head, clutching her towel in her hands for a long, long time.

Over the course of a week, the way Stella looked at me grew stranger.

She started to test me.

"Zoe, have you been in a bad mood lately?"

"Nope."

"Then... do you have a problem with me or something?"

"Nope."

"Then why are you..." She bit her lip, that familiar wounded look returning to her eyes. "You weren't like this before."

I looked up at her. Her eyes were red again, the same practiced, hurt redness I'd seen a thousand times. In my past life, that look would have been enough to make me soften, to make me rush out and solve all her problems.

"Like what before?" I asked.

She hesitated. "You know... you would help me."

"Help you with what?"

"Help me with..." Her voice trailed off, her gaze flickering. "Never mind. It's nothing."

She turned away, her shoulders slumping slightly, as if she was trying to hide her tears.

In my past life, I would have chased after her, apologizing. "I'm sorry, Stella, I've just been in a weird mood. Don't be mad." Then she would have wiped her tears and said, "It's okay, Zoe, I know you didn't mean it." And everything would have gone back to normal.

This time, I didn't move.

She reached the door, her hand on the knob, her steps slowing to a crawl.

I kept reading my book.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and glanced back at me.

The hurt in her eyes was gone.

In its place was an expression I had never seen on her face before.

Calculation.

She had realized her victim act no longer worked on me, and she was reassessing the situation.

The second week, Stella changed her strategy.

She stopped playing the victim in front of me and started "casually" bringing me up in front of our other roommates.

Beth was the one who relayed this to me. The best thing about Beth was her gossipy nature; she'd spread anyone's dirt, completely impartially.

"Zoe, did you do something to Stella?" Beth asked, painting her nails. "She's been sighing all over the dorm for days, acting like we're all bullying her."

"No."

"Then what's her deal?"

"Ask her."

Beth rolled her eyes. "No way. The second I ask, she'll get all teary-eyed and make me look like the bad guy. Forget it."

I didn't say anything.

It was just like in my past life. Stella never spoke ill of anyone. She just sighed, got red-rimmed eyes, bit her lip, and said, "It must be something I did." And everyone would assume someone was picking on her. And the "bully" was usually whoever was closest to her at the time.

First, it was Jenna. Then me. Then Megan from the room next door. Then our advisor, Mr. Davis. The people around her were constantly changing. Only she remained the eternal "good person being bullied."

That afternoon, Stella took a call in the dorm. It was the class president, asking why she hadn't submitted the PowerPoint for their group project.

Stella's voice was a delicate whisper. "I... I sent it to the group chat yesterday. Maybe you didn't see it. It's okay, I'll send it again."

She hung up and sighed.

Then, her gaze shifted to me.

That lookwounded, hesitant, waiting for me to ask, "What's wrong?"

In my past life, I would have already been by her side, asking. Then I would have heard her denials of "it's nothing, it's nothing," and then I would have gone to confront the class president myself.

I sat on my bed reading, not even looking up.

She waited a few seconds. Seeing no reaction, she put her phone down and sighed again. This time, a little louder.

I still didn't look up.

Her expression darkened. She looked away and didn't sigh again.

The third week, an opportunity presented itself.

Stella got into a conflict with Megan from next door over a hairdryer.

It was simple: Stella's hairdryer broke, so she borrowed Megan's. When she returned it, it was broken. Megan said Stella broke it. Stella said it was already broken when she borrowed it.

The two of them stood in the hallway, facing off.

Megan was loud, firing off words like a machine gun. "It was working perfectly fine when I lent it to you, and now it's broken! Are you telling me you didn't do it?"

Stella's eyes were red, her voice a thin thread. "I really didn't... It wasn't blowing any air when I tried to use it. I thought you'd let me use a broken one, so I was too scared to say anything..."

Her voice got smaller and smaller as she looked down at the floor. A small crowd had gathered in the hallway. People were whispering, judging Megan with their eyes.

Stella tilted her head slightly, her gaze cutting through the crowd and landing on me.

I knew that look all too well. It was a look of hurt, a plea for help, a certainty that said, You'll speak up for me.

She was waiting for me. Waiting for me to charge out and defend her, just like I had in my past life.

And I did charge out in my past life. I pointed at Megan and said, "How much is a stupid hairdryer? I'll pay for it. Stop bullying people." And just like that, Megan and I became enemies. Stella walked away unscathed, without ever saying to Megan, "That's not what happened."

I met her gaze and smiled faintly.

Then I walked over.

Stella's eyes lit up. The certainty in them swelled into a look of triumph: I knew you'd still help me.

I walked right past her and stopped in front of Megan.

Stella's expression froze.

"Megan, when did you buy that hairdryer?"

Megan blinked. "Last month."

"Do you have the receipt?"

"Yeah, why?"

"If you have the receipt and it's still under warranty, you can get it fixed for free. Are you sure it was working before you lent it to Stella?"

"I'm positive. I used it this morning."

"Then it broke while Stella had it." I turned to Stella. "Stella, you should take it to get repaired. It's free if it's under warranty. If it's not, and it costs money, you and Megan can split it. After all, it was working when you borrowed it."

The hallway fell silent.

The expression on Stella's face was cemented in place. She had probably imagined a hundred ways I might defend her, but this was not one of them.

Her eyes shifted from delight to shock, and from shock to fury. The tears welling up were no longer from hurt, but from rage.

She finally realized I wasn't going to be her shield anymore.

She bit her lip and took the hairdryer from Megan. "Fine. I'll get it fixed." Her voice was thin and choked with tears.

But this time, no one stepped forward to defend her.

The crowd dispersed.

Stella stood alone in the hallway, clutching the hairdryer.

As I walked past her, she spoke. "Zoe."

"Yeah."

"Why did you change?"

"Change how?"

"You weren't like this before. You would have helped me."

I stopped and looked at her. "You wouldn't have let me down before, either," I said.

Her pupils constricted. The anger in her eyes cracked, revealing what was underneath.

Fear.

I said nothing more and walked back into our room.