My Roommate’s Dating Theory Killed Me, So Reborn I Let Her Go Chapter 08

My Roommate’s Dating Theory Killed Me, So Reborn I Let Her Go Chapter 08

The officer stood.

“We’ll probably need your testimony once the case goes to trial. We’ll contact you in advance.”

I walked him to the door, thanked him, and watched him leave.

After closing it, I leaned against the door for a long time.

Outside, the sky was a brilliant blue.

A few birds crossed overhead, their wings cutting softly through the air.

I wandered back into the living room, poured myself a glass of water, and sat quietly.

My phone vibrated.

An unfamiliar number.

The text read:

[Vivian, this is Clara’s mother. Clara has been taken into custody. Her lawyer says she’s probably going to prison. I’m not asking you to forgive her, but would you please come see her? She wants to apologize.]

I stared at the message for a while before replying.

[Mrs. Miller, she’ll have every opportunity to apologize through the legal process. I won’t be coming.]

I blocked the number immediately afterward.

—

Then I opened every social media app I had.

I deleted Clara from all of them.

Finally, I left the apartment residents’ group chat where everyone had spent days arguing over my life.

When I finished, I leaned back in my chair and gently touched the healing scab on my neck.

This time…

No one would ever tell me to “be the bigger person.”

And I would never give anyone another chance to hurt me.

That evening, I texted my mom my new address and let her know I’d moved.

A few minutes later, she called.

She asked a dozen questions about the apartment before slipping into the same familiar reminders.

“Be careful out there. Lock your doors every night. Don’t trust strangers.”

Listening to her voice made my eyes sting.

“I know, Mom,” I said with a smile.

After hanging up, I stepped onto my balcony.

Across the street stood the local police station.

For the first time in a very long while…

—

I felt safe.

As night settled over the city, rows of streetlights flickered on, bathing the roads in warm light.

A gentle summer breeze carried the scent of fresh grass and trees.

I took a deep breath.

My lungs filled with nothing except clean air.

There was no crushing pressure.

No suffocating fear.

This body…

This second chance at life…

It belonged to me.

And I would never hand it over so easily again.

The following day, I returned to my old apartment to collect the last of my belongings.

Mr. Potts had already changed the locks.

Clara’s possessions had been packed into several cardboard boxes and left in the hallway.

As I walked by, one open box caught my eye.

Inside lay a battered paperback romance novel with curled pages.

The cover showed a man and woman staring at each other in a dim

—

apartment hallway.

Its title gleamed in gold lettering.

[Love in a Home Invasion]

I quietly closed the box and continued on my way.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand slipped between them.

Mrs. Higgins hurried inside carrying several grocery bags.

She froze when she saw me.

“Vivian? You’re back?”

“I just came to pick up the last of my things.”

She nodded.

Several times she looked as though she wanted to say something.

Finally, when the elevator reached the lobby, she took a deep breath.

“Vivian… I owe you an apology.”

“I was wrong about Clara.”

“I took her side.”

“If something had really happened to you that night…”

She shuddered.

“I can’t even think about it.”

—

“You did the right thing by moving.”

“Please… be careful from now on.”

I looked at her and smiled faintly.

“I will.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Higgins.”

Relief washed across her face.

She smiled back before heading toward the grocery store.

I remained standing outside the apartment building alone.

I looked up at the place where I’d lived for less than two weeks.

The seventh-floor balcony door stood open.

The curtains billowed gently in the wind, almost as if someone were still inside.

But I knew the apartment was already occupied by new tenants.

The girl who had waited with her front door unlocked for a fantasy romance would never stand behind that doorway again.

I turned and headed toward the subway station.

The sun hung high overhead, leaving only a small shadow beneath my feet.

My phone chimed.

It was a message from my real estate agent.

—

[Ms. Rhodes, how are you settling into your new place? Let me know if you need anything.]

I replied.

[Everything’s great. Thank you.]

Then I slipped my phone into my pocket and walked into the station.

The train wasn’t crowded.

I found a seat near the doors.

As the train pulled away, cool air rushed through the car.

I closed my eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of steel wheels rolling over the tracks.

My neck no longer hurt.

I’d changed the bandage that morning.

Beneath it, fresh pink skin had already formed, leaving behind a faint raised line.

The doctor had told me the scar would fade with time.

I didn’t care whether it did.

This scar proved I had survived.

It was far more real than the invisible wound I’d carried through my previous life.

When the train reached my stop, I opened my eyes.

—

The doors slid apart.

Sunlight poured inside.

I stepped onto the platform.

My new life began today.

I’d eat my meals on time.

I’d go to bed early and wake up early.

I’d check my locks before leaving home every single day.

I’d keep my emergency contacts where I could reach them in seconds.

On weekends, I’d meet friends for dinner or spend an afternoon shopping.

Maybe I’d even travel during vacations and finally see all the places I’d never had the chance to visit before.

My life didn’t need to be dramatic.

It only needed to be peaceful.

One ordinary day after another.

I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around my keys.

The cool metal rested firmly against my palm.

Only I held the key to this lock.

Only I could decide who would ever be welcomed through that door.

—

As for those ridiculous fantasies about finding love through a home invasion…

They belonged exactly where they came from.

Inside cheap romance novels.

Real people should never have to gamble their lives for someone else’s fantasy.

—

I walked home through the quiet streets, the afternoon sun warm on my shoulders.

When I reached my building, I paused at the entrance and looked back at the city behind me.

The old apartment was gone. The old life was gone. The old Vivian was gone.

In their place was someone who had learned the hardest lesson of all:

That safety wasn’t something you could borrow from someone else’s story.

It was something you built for yourself, brick by brick, lock by lock, choice by choice.

I pushed open the door to my building and stepped inside.

The hallway was clean and quiet. The new lock clicked behind me with a satisfying sound.

I smiled and walked toward the elevator.

Tomorrow, I would start looking for work.

Next week, I would buy a new plant for the balcony.

Next month, I would start saving for a trip somewhere I’d never been.

But tonight, I would sleep in my own bed, in my own apartment, with my own locks, in the safety I had chosen for myself.

And that was more than enough.