The Toxic Roommate's Stolen Light

My roommate set her sights on my boyfriend and ordered me to hand him over to her. She claimed she had severe depression, and that my boyfriend was the radiant light meant to save her soul, the only reason she had left to live. When I flatly refused, she blasted the whole story across the internet. Online strangers immediately rallied around her: [You didn't do anything wrong! Does having a crush require someone else's permission?] [They're just dating, not married. Go for it, girl! Chasing true love isn't a crime.] [If you don't go wild while you're young, when will you?] Looking at the flood of comments, I let out a cold sneer. Since you want that light so desperately, I'll make sure you get scorched by the harsh light of justice. On the first day of college move-in, my boyfriend, Luke, drove me to campus. Two other girls had already moved into our dorm suite. We introduced ourselves and learned their names were Hannah and Chloe. Just then, a small, skinny girl walked in. Her eyes immediately locked onto Luke, darting up and down without shame. Later, after Luke left, she came over to exchange names, her tone dripping with fake warmth: "Hey, Harper, was that your brother? He's gorgeous! Does he go here, or is he already working?" I smiled politely. "He's my boyfriend. He's a college student too." "Oh, so you guys are high school sweethearts!" She looked me over from head to toe. "Which college does he go to? What's his major?" I didn't really want to share, but she kept prodding. Since she was my roommate, I didn't want to make things awkward right off the bat. So I told her his school, his major, and his full name. "Luke. Wow, that's such a hot name." I didn't think much of it at the time, assuming she was just being curious. A week later, when Luke and I met up on the weekend, he told me a girl from my college had sent him a love letter. A bit surprised, I asked who it was. Luke handed me the handwritten note. The signature at the bottom read: Tiffany. It was my roommate. The memory of move-in day rushed back—her endless questions about Luke's school and classes. She wasn't just being nosy; she had targeted my boyfriend from the start. The letter was filled with dramatic, overflowing declarations of affection. If Luke had been single, I might have brushed it off as a harmless crush. But he was already taken, and she knew we were dating. This was a blatant attempt to steal him away! Fuming, I took the letter straight back to the dorm to confront her. "Tiffany, you wrote a love letter to my boyfriend. What is your problem?" Tiffany froze when she saw the letter. Her brow furrowed in rage, and she let out a piercing, high-pitched screech: "Why do you have that?!" She snatched the letter out of my hand. "Why are you going through other people's stuff? How trashy can you be? You call yourself a college student? That's a total violation of my privacy, you know that?!" I sneered, "You're trying to steal someone's man and you think you have the moral high ground?" Tiffany clenched her fists and snapped, "So what if I sent him a note? I'm just being brave and pursuing love!" Hannah and Chloe chimed in, pointing out how trashy and wrong her behavior was. Tiffany spun around, yanked open her desk drawer, and pulled out a medical diagnosis sheet. *Slap!* She slammed it onto the desk. "I have clinically diagnosed depression! I didn't want to bring it up, but you guys are forcing my hand!" "I finally found a sliver of hope in this miserable life, and you're trying to crush it too?!" I found it utterly ridiculous. "Your 'hope in life' is stealing someone else's boyfriend?" Hannah tried to de-escalate, telling her to apologize and promise never to do it again. Tiffany pouted, unrepentant. "I'm just following my heart. What did I do wrong?" "Everyone is equal when it comes to love." Chloe pulled me aside and whispered, "Harper, she has depression. Maybe just let it go for now? What if she does something crazy?" I figured I'd cross whatever bridge when I got to it; I wasn't scared of her. Still, looking at Tiffany's smug, unremorseful face, I knew this wasn't going to end easily.Sure enough, three days later. Hannah told me a post was blowing up on Twitter. She suspected Tiffany wrote it, because the account's media tab showed photos of our campus and dorm hallway. I took the phone and looked: The tweet read: *Is someone with depression not even allowed to have a crush?* The thread went on: *I've suffered from severe depression for years. I often feel like life isn't worth living, but I've fought hard not to let the illness win. Then, I found my beacon of light—someone who gave me a reason to keep breathing.* *I'm just an ordinary girl. When I fell for him, he already had a girlfriend, so I was completely content just loving him in secret from afar.* *But his girlfriend found out, and she came and threatened me.* *I only wanted to admire my light from a distance. Is that really too much to ask?* The replies were flooded with support and comfort for her. [You didn't do anything wrong! Does having a crush require someone else's permission?] [Why is that girlfriend so heartless? Can people show a little compassion to someone fighting mental illness?] [They're just dating, not married. Go for it, girl! Chasing true love isn't a crime.] [If you don't go wild while you're young, when will you?] I scrolled to the very bottom and saw people already trying to doxx me. They claimed they were going to hunt down this "toxic bitch" so everyone could see what kind of monster I was. Boiling with fury, I stormed over to confront Tiffany. She didn't even deny it. She just rolled her eyes and said flippantly: "I told the truth, okay? Besides, I have freedom of speech. I can post whatever I want." "Freedom of speech doesn't give you the right to spin lies! Delete that post right now." "Why should I? Why would I delete it? I'm just sharing my personal feelings and letting people witness my journey." A lump of pure rage caught in my throat; my chest literally ached from how mad I was. I grabbed her by the arm and dragged her straight to our resident dean's office. After I laid out the whole story with proof, the dean ordered Tiffany to take the post down. Under the dean's authority, she reluctantly deleted it. I breathed a sigh of relief. Little did I know, she went right ahead and set up a private SnapChat group behind my back. Right after my elective class ended, my phone buzzed with a call from Luke. I answered, hearing chaotic noise and muffled shouting on the other end. "Harper, help! Get down here!" Luke's voice sounded genuinely panicked. My stomach dropped. Luke was always calm and collected. If he was panicking, something was seriously wrong. I asked for his location and rushed over. When I arrived, Tiffany was clutching his shirt, while the two of them were trapped in a heated dispute. The moment Luke saw me, he shook her off and dove behind my back. "Harper, she's insane! I was just grabbing lunch off campus and ran into her, and she's been stalking me ever since." Luke said every step he took, she matched. When he tried to walk faster, she grabbed onto his clothes. Whenever Luke snapped at her to let go, she burst into tears, making it look to passersby like he was an abusive scumbag dumping his poor girlfriend. Bystanders were already giving him filthy looks, whispering, and a few self-righteous people were pulling out their phones, threatening to blast him online. Meanwhile, Tiffany stood there sobbing softly without explaining a single thing. When Luke tried to clear his name, nobody believed him. The sheer revulsion and disgust in his eyes were real enough for anyone with working eyes to see. Furious, I stepped forward and confronted Tiffany: "Why the hell are you harassing him?"Tiffany threw me a look of pure contempt, then turned her teary eyes back to Luke. "I just wanted to grab lunch with him and talk." I laughed out of sheer anger. "Hilarious. Why on earth would my boyfriend want to have lunch with you? Find someone else to harass! Stop sniffing around other people's men." Tiffany planted her hands on her hips, completely convinced of her own righteousness. "If I had met him first, maybe I'd be his girlfriend right now! You just got lucky by meeting him earlier." "I listened to the advice from my followers. I'm just fighting for my happiness! What did I do wrong?" I let out a cold laugh. "Didn't you say you were content just watching him from afar?" Tiffany clenched her fists, sticking her chin up proudly. "I can't control my heart, and everyone told me to be brave and go after what I want!" "Everyone has the right to pursue true love!" I rolled my eyes. "Pursuing true love by being a homewrecking side chick?" Gradually, the onlookers caught on to what was actually happening from our exchange. As the crowd grew and the whispers turned against her, Tiffany couldn't take the judgmental stares anymore. She threw down a parting shot—"I'm never giving up!"—and bolted into the crowd. Later, I checked Tiffany's Twitter profile again. I discovered she had created a public SnapChat group, and I quietly slipped inside using an alt account. The moment I entered, messages were flying non-stop. Scrolling back to the earlier logs, it was packed with vile insults directed at me. The newest chat was all about today's drama: [I went to see him today. I just wanted to talk to him, but then his girlfriend showed up.] [His girlfriend wouldn't let me speak to him and told me I was delusional trash.] [Am I really that worthless? Does having depression mean I don't deserve love?] Beneath her messages, the comments were universally backing her up while tearing me to shreds: [What an absolute monster of a girlfriend! How could she be so cruel to someone battling depression?] [That's disgusting! How can his girlfriend be so evil? Sending you hugs, babe, you're doing amazing!] [We stand with you! Fight for true love, you two belong together!] [Exactly! Make that guy see what a psycho his girlfriend really is. Steal him away and let her cry in a corner!] Over the next few days, whenever I was on FaceTime with Luke, I would catch Tiffany glaring at me from across the room with pure venom. And whenever Luke and I went out, she was always hovering somewhere in the distance. We walked through three whole shopping blocks, and she was still trailing us. I finally marched back and confronted her: "Are you stalking us?" She rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with disdain. "It's a public sidewalk. You don't own the street, do you?" With that, her eyes snapped back onto Luke, staring at him unblinkingly. I grabbed Luke's hand, pulled him into a waiting cab, and we drove off. We spent an hour wandering around a nearby park just to shake her before heading back to campus. I made up my mind right then: I would just endure it for the rest of freshman year. By sophomore year, I could get approved to move off-campus, and I wouldn't have to deal with Tiffany anymore. Little did I know, plans couldn't keep up with crazy.