The Room She Didn't Choose

...•••••...

Aera wanted her own space.

She imagined it constantly — a quiet one-room apartment above a bakery or near a train station. Somewhere with a window that didn’t overlook judgment. Somewhere no one would knock unless invited. A place to be no one’s daughter, no one’s mistake.

But her father had other plans.

“You want to live alone?” he said, dragging the word like it was offensive.

She nodded. “Yes. It’ll be easier for me to focus. And I’ve saved enough—”

His sigh sliced through her sentence.

“I raised you on my own, Aera. Alone. I gave you everything. My time, my health... and now you want to run off and play independent?”

“It’s not running away. It’s just... I need this. I need space to think, to breathe—”

“What don’t you have here?” he snapped, voice laced with bitter disbelief. “Do you think being alone will make you more grown-up? Is freedom some kind of reward you think you’ve earned?”

She swallowed the urge to scream.

“It’s not about rewards. It’s just... I’ve never made a choice that was mine. Not really. Please, just this once.”

His hand went to his chest. The same chest that had been aching for years, the one he referenced every time she asked for something. “My blood pressure’s been high again. I haven’t told you because I didn’t want to worry you. But clearly, you’re too busy wanting freedom to care.”

Aera blinked rapidly, guilt stabbing at her resolve.

He looked at her long, like measuring her silence. Then he added, “You can live in the hostel. It’s safe. Controlled. You’ll make friends.”

She bit her tongue until it bled.

Control. That was the word he never said but always enforced. And now it followed her to college.

...🥀...

The dorm building smelled of fresh paint and disinfectant. The hallway buzzed with voices, laughter, luggage wheels skimming the tile. Room 304. She knocked once before opening it with the key card.

Inside, one bed was already made.

The girl lounging cross-legged on it looked up, face glowing from a phone screen, glossy hair tied into a bun that somehow looked effortless. She wore a denim jacket over a crop top.

“You must be my roommate,” the girl said, smiling brightly. “I’m Soojin. Welcome to hell.”

Aera blinked. “I—hi.”

She walked in slowly, suitcase trailing like dead weight. The air smelled of citrus shampoo and something floral. Her side of the room was bare. Soojin’s was a riot of color — tote bags, fairy lights hanging to the wall.

Soojin rolled off the bed and extended a hand. “You’re Aera, right? I checked the list. We’re stuck together. Hope you don’t snore.”

Aera gave a small shake, her own hand limp by comparison.

Everything about Soojin was magnetic — posture, tone, presence. She owned the space, while Aera felt like a guest in her own skin.

And then it hit.

Not jealousy.

Envy.

Painfully precise, quietly corrosive. It wasn’t just that Soojin was beautiful or confident or friendly. It was how easily she existed. How unapologetically. Aera didn’t want to be her. She just wanted to stop measuring herself against girls like her and always coming up short.

Why do I always feel like I’m faking basic things?

Why do I feel exhausted just by existing?

Her stomach coiled. She unpacked slowly, folding each piece of clothing like it held a secret. And in her head, the voices clashed louder.

She belongs here.

You slipped through a crack.

She has stories. You have excuses.

Soojin laughed at something on her phone, then turned and said, “You’re really neat. Did your mom raise you or a hotel manager?”

“Self parenting yk,” Aera muttered, the tension in her jaw disguising the ache in her heart.

...🥀...

The next day, they sat across each other in the campus lunch hall. It was too white, too bright, full of unfamiliar faces that looked like they belonged on brochure covers.

Soojin slurped up her cold noodles and pointed her chopsticks at Aera. “You always look like you’re expecting a murder to happen.”

Aera blinked. “Excuse me?”

“That face. Very detective-drama heroine. Like you’re waiting for someone to confess to a crime.”

“Maybe I’m just overwhelmed,” she offered, eyes darting.

“Fair,” Soojin said. “Though if you end up solving an actual murder, I hope I’m the sarcastic sidekick.”

“You do give off sidekick energy.”

“Rude,” Soojin clutched her chest. “I’m the main character of at least three people’s stories, thank you very much.”

Aera laughed, this time more easily. “Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked, surprised again by her own boldness.

Soojin looked scandalized. “A boyfriend? Honey, I’m still trying to remember to water my plants.”

Aera chuckled. “So no commitment issues, then?”

“Only the healthy kind,” Soojin winked. “What about you? You look like the kind of person who’d break up with someone because they chewed too loud.”

“I don’t date,” Aera said. “Too distracting. I came here to focus. On my goals.”

“Boring and admirable. Dangerous combination,” Soojin said. “So, what’s the plan? Top of the class? Future hotel CEO? Living alone with fifteen cats?”

“Maybe not cats. But yes. I want control.” Aera paused. “I’m not here to follow anyone’s plan but mine.”

Soojin’s smile faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer.

“Well. If you ever want to break your no-dating rule, I have a list of eligible losers you can reject in style.”

Aera snorted.

“And,” Soojin added, “you might be a mystery, but I like a challenge. One day, I’ll crack you open like a pistachio.”

Aera raised a brow. “That’s a weird metaphor.”

“You’re a weird metaphor,” Soojin countered.

And just like that, something warm stirred in Aera’s chest. Not ease, not quite yet. But the start of something like it.

Freedom, maybe.

Or the hint of a future where she wouldn’t always feel like a shadow.

Soojin stood. “Come on. Let’s go rob the dessert counter. You distract, I grab. Teamwork.”

Aera followed. And this time, her steps didn’t feel borrowed.