The Roommate Who Tried to Steal My Family

"Godfather, Godmother, can I come home with you?"

"I know you're going on a trip—you don't have to worry about me. I'll be good and stay home by myself!"

"I can house-sit for you and help clean!"

"My parents only gave me enough money for a slow train ticket, and those sell out so fast. I couldn't get one, so I have no way to get home."

"Everyone goes home for winter break. Even the dorm supervisor left. I'm too scared to stay in the dorm alone."

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she spoke.

My dad's heart softened. He opened the car door.

"Get in."

Sabina's face lit up instantly. She grabbed her luggage and climbed in.

I wasn't happy about it. She acted like she already belonged here.

But we still had three and a half years of sharing a dorm room ahead of us, so I kept my mouth shut.

Back at the house, Sabina set down her bags and headed straight for the kitchen to wash vegetables.

"Godfather, Godmother, you've had such a long day. Let me make dinner tonight."

She was always like this—so considerate, so eager to help with chores, always offering to massage my parents' shoulders or rub their feet.

My dad loved comparing us.

"Look at Sabina! If you had half her sense, we'd be grateful!"

But the truth was, every time Sabina volunteered to help, my parents never actually let her do anything. She was a guest, after all. How could we make a guest do housework?

Sure enough, the moment Sabina put the vegetables in the basin, my mom shooed her out.

"Go watch TV. Maisie can help me wash these."

I rolled up my sleeves and walked into the kitchen. "Mom, Sabina's offered to cook for us so many times, but I've never actually eaten anything she's made."

"Today's the perfect chance for her to show off her skills. Go rest—I've got this."

I nudged my mom out of the kitchen, then called over my shoulder.

"What are you standing there for? Get cooking."

Only then did Sabina reluctantly tie on an apron.

She actually managed to put together four dishes—all my parents' favorites.

Now they adored her even more.

"Sabina, I can't believe you're only eighteen and already cook this well. My Maisie can barely wash vegetables. She can't even steam rice."

"If you like it, Godmother, I'll cook for you every day."

She shot me a smug glance.

"Maisie, you should learn from Sabina. When we're not home, all you do is order takeout. That's so unhealthy."

"Don't worry, Godfather. I can cook for Maisie from now on."

"Oh, by the way—you're leaving for your trip tomorrow, right?" She sighed wistfully. "I'm so jealous of Maisie. She gets to travel every break. The farthest I've ever been is from home to school."

My dad looked pained. He glanced at my mom. "Why don't we bring Sabina along?"

Before my mom could respond, Sabina's eyes welled with tears of excitement.

"Thank you, Godfather! Can I really go?"

She turned to my mom, hope shining in her face.

My mom's lips parted, then pressed together. "Let me check with the travel agency to see if there's still room."

A few minutes later, she returned. "I'm sorry, Sabina. The agency says the group is full. They can't add anyone else. Maybe next time—we'll take you next time."

Resentment flickered in Sabina's eyes, but she nodded. "Okay."

After dinner, Sabina followed me into my bedroom.

Her voice dropped, turning cold and sharp. "You should have told me sooner about the trip. If you'd told me earlier, your parents would have included me."

I ignored her, grabbed my clothes, and headed to the bathroom to shower.

When I stepped out, my foot slipped on something.

I crashed to the floor right outside the bathroom door.