Chapter 3

That endless half-hour of running water in the bathroom? She was literally recording herself stamping floral toilet gel into the bowl.

That obnoxious thumping on the desk? It was supposed to be a "silent keyboard so she wouldn't wake us up."

A chaotic, loud three-hour ordeal had been chopped down into a curated two-hour aesthetic morning routine, presented in a five-minute video. If that wasn't social media fraud, I didn't know what was.

In the final edit, Chloe had stripped all original audio, replacing it with gentle, lo-fi acoustic music that made the whole routine look whisper-quiet and zen.

The comments blew up past ten thousand within hours, everyone raving about what an "angel roommate" she was.

The few scattered comments questioning whether she was disturbing the girls in her room were instantly buried beneath a mountain of adoration.

It rubbed me the wrong way, but after seeing Chloe apologize so profusely that morning and promising she only posted once a week anyway, we decided to let it slide.

What we didn't expect was for that specific video to blow up to over a million likes.

And in order to ride that algorithm wave, Chloe immediately bumped her upload schedule from once a week to twice a week.

Which meant our mornings were routinely shattered by her early-morning sound effects. Every single time we brought it up, she put on the exact same contrite, wide-eyed apologetic act. Eventually, on Wendy's suggestion, I just started sleeping with earplugs.

Even so, as Chloe's grindset ramped up, my health took a nosedive.

And soon, it felt like more than just sleep deprivation.

Rubbing my burning, bloodshot eyes, I opened the clinic app and booked a full medical workup.

Over the last few days, both Mia and Wendy had broken out in weird red rashes all over their bodies, constantly feeling dizzy and exhausted no matter how much they slept. At first, they brushed it off as stress or climate adjustment.

Only after I practically dragged them did they go get tested.

Today, since I was heading that way, I picked up their lab results along with mine.

When I got back to the dorm, all three of them were sitting inside.

"Emma, you're back! What did the doctor say?"

Chloe stepped forward, looping her arm sweetly through mine. I gave her a cold look and pulled my arm away.

"Why don't we all take a look together? The doctor said these symptoms are caused by formaldehyde poisoning."

"And this rash? He suspects it came from uncertified, substandard hygiene products."

I slammed the stack of medical reports onto the center table.

"Wait, what..."

Mia started to speak, but Chloe instantly cut in.

"Oh no! It's all my fault! I should've bought an air purifier with a formaldehyde filter back then! It has to be from the fresh paint the university slapped on the walls before move-in!"

She talked frantically, whipping out her phone to open Amazon.

"Save it."

Chloe's thumb froze. I locked eyes with her and said, "Did the school only paint our dorm room, Chloe?"

Mia's brain clicked into gear immediately, remembering the messages Chloe had sent in the group chat before school started:

[Look guys, even though we have our own bathroom and loft beds, these walls are so gross, the mattresses are paper thin, and the curtains let in so much light. Why don't we all split the cost so I can do a total room makeover?]

"Besides, formaldehyde doesn't just come from wall paint," I continued coolly. "I looked it up. Cheap, uncertified wallpaper off bargain sites is packed with it."

I let my gaze drift slowly across the walls.

"That's impossible! I spent forever picking out the best wallpaper!"

"What about the mattress stuffing?"

Chloe and I spoke at the exact same time.

The moment the words left my mouth, the fake-sweet smile Chloe wore like a mask completely vanished.

"N-No way. I ordered them in bulk together. Look at me, I'm totally fine!"

I didn't bother arguing. I reached over to the desk, grabbed a pair of heavy-duty scissors, climbed up to my bed, and slashed open my mattress and comforter.

Sure enough, stuffed inside were gray, shredded textile waste, chemical-smelling industrial scrap cotton, and raw, splintered fibers.

"Then explain what this is."

I hoisted the mangled bedding so the girls below could see.

Mia and Wendy's faces drained of color. Forgetting entirely about where they were going to sleep tonight, they scrambled to grab scissors of their own.

"What about yours, Chloe? Aren't you going to check?"

Mia held her scissors, glaring at Chloe, whose eyes were darting everywhere but at us.

"There's no point! Mine has to be the exact same! It's the seller's fault, I'll go demand a refund right now—"

Ignoring her, I climbed straight onto Chloe's bed, scissors in hand, and sliced neatly through the seam of her mattress.

Inside was clean, pristine, pure white virgin cotton.

No wonder Chloe had insisted on handling the entire room renovation by herself from start to finish. It made pocketing the cash so ridiculously easy.

I clearly remembered that because the three of us felt guilty about not doing any manual labor, we offered to cover the entire bill ourselves. Each of us had transferred Chloe five hundred dollars, telling her to keep whatever was left over as a thank-you fee.

Had that generous gesture been the exact moment she decided we were suckers to be milked?

"A three-dollar mattress off Wish. Impressive that you even managed to track that down," I scoffed.

"How do you know that?!"

"Image search, obviously."

"Oh, and look what else I found."

I stepped down from her bunk, holding the massive bulk-pack of toilet paper sitting on her shelf.

"Looks like we found the culprit for our bacterial infections, too."

Right after move-in, Chloe told us she had a brand sponsorship with a paper company and generously claimed she’d cover the entire dorm's toilet paper supply for all four years of college.

True to her word, whenever the roll ran low, a new batch would magically appear.

Feeling indebted and too awkward to just hand her cash for basic supplies, the three of us had taken over all dorm cleaning duties without complaint.

"So you gave us toilet paper you wouldn't even touch yourself because you knew damn well it wasn't safe to use, didn't you?"

Even Wendy, who was usually the gentlest soul on earth, was trembling with pure rage.

"I didn't! I had no idea! I just... I have sensitive skin, that's all!"

Chloe sobbed out apologies left and right, but stubbornly refused to admit any malicious intent.

Except this time, none of us were falling for her fake crocodile tears.

I walked right past her and looked at Mia and Wendy.

"I'm filing for an emergency room reassignment. Are you guys coming with me?"

They exchanged a look and nodded firmly.

Chloe scrambled to block the door, her eyes red, staring at us with desperate, pleading eyes.

"I'll buy you guys brand-new sets! I'll buy premium toilet paper from the pharmacy! We were getting along so well, please don't switch rooms, okay?"

"Not happening. While you're standing there, you'd better calculate how much money you owe us. Fifteen hundred dollars could buy a whole warehouse of toxic trash mattresses."

I shook my head, brushed past her shoulder, and walked out.

Arm in arm with our medical reports and photos of the chopped-up mattresses, we went straight to our academic advisor's office.

Our advisor looked through the papers, his face growing darker by the second. We thought he was furious at Chloe's behavior, until he opened his mouth.