The room felt smaller than it had that morning.
Amara sat on her bed in RM34A, Okeleye Hostel, her back straight, her notebook open but unread. The words on the page blurred together as her mind replayed the same scene over and over again.
A male roommate.
Not a mistake.
Not temporary.
Real.
She exhaled slowly and glanced around the room. Her side was neat—bed made, books stacked, toiletries arranged with military precision. The other side… empty. Too empty. Like it was waiting for someone who didn't belong there.
She picked up her pen and flipped to a fresh page.
ROOMMATE RULES
She underlined it twice.
If she had to survive this semester, she needed structure. Order. Control.
1.No loud music.
2.No visitors without notice.
3.No touching my things.
4.Respect personal space.
She paused, chewing on the pen cap.
5.Absolutely no drama.
That should be enough, she thought.
The door handle turned.
Amara's head snapped up.
The door opened casually, like this was the most normal thing in the world.
He walked in.
Kian.
He had changed clothes—simple black joggers and a grey T-shirt that clung just enough to make her look away almost immediately. A backpack hung loosely from one shoulder, and there was that same relaxed confidence in the way he moved, like the room already belonged to him.
"Wow," he said, glancing around. "You really claimed your territory fast."
Amara stood up immediately. "You knock."
He blinked, then smiled. "Noted."
He dropped his bag on the floor and kicked off his sneakers—except one of them landed dangerously close to her side of the room.
She pointed. "Rule number one. Personal space."
He followed her finger, then looked back at her, amused. "Already?"
"Yes. Already."
Kian nudged the shoe away with his foot.
"Relax. I'm house-trained."
"I don't need jokes. I need cooperation."
"Sounds like a marriage proposal."
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
He laughed softly, holding up his hands. "I'm kidding. Chill."
She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her heart was beating faster than it should. "This arrangement is temporary."
"So you keep saying."
"It is."
He moved to his bed and sat, stretching his arms behind his head like he had all the time in the world. "You're a nursing student, right?"
She frowned. "How do you know that?"
"You've got flashcards, anatomy diagrams, and that look of permanent stress." He tilted his head. "Dead giveaway."
She hated that he noticed.
"Yes," she said shortly. "And I need quiet."
Kian nodded. "Good. I need sleep."
She scoffed. "During the day?"
"Engineering life is rough."
"Engineering?" she repeated.
"Unfortunately."
There was a brief silence, filled with distant hostel noise—laughter in the hallway, someone shouting from the staircase, doors opening and closing.
Amara suddenly became very aware of how this must look.
A boy. In her room. In Okeleye Hostel.
She swallowed.
A knock sounded on the door.
Kian stood first. "I'll get it."
"No—" Amara started, but it was too late.
The door swung open to reveal a girl with braided hair and a knowing smile.
"So it's true," the girl said, eyes flicking between them. "You're the famous roommate."
Amara felt heat rush to her face. "It's not—"
"Complicated," Kian finished smoothly. "Hi, Sade."
Sade's grin widened. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
Amara's stomach dropped.
This was bad.
Very bad.
And somehow, as Kian leaned against the doorframe, looking entirely too comfortable in her space, she knew one thing for sure:
Rule Number One was already broken.