Fate? or haphazard

People… I don't think I understand them as well as I thought I did. Ever since I transferred colleges this second semester, it's as if nobody even acknowledges my existence. What I initially perceived was purely an illusion. I reflect on this as I pack my belongings into my new living quarters—a fresh college dorm that I'm hoping to have all to myself. Ironically, I love the idea of being alone. I hate people, yet I crave their respect, their time, and ultimately, a connection with them.

Thinking to myself, I finally understand why nobody cares for me. I'm utterly pathetic. It took me a while to grasp this truth. It's me—it's always been me. My fault. No one else's. I'm the cause of my own suffering, the suffering that stole my salvation and my only ally.

As I near the completion of moving in, I open the door to my room and head to the front door to retrieve the last of my belongings.

Behind me, I hear a deep woman's voice. Turning around, I see her. Black hair, light brown eyes, and a stunning physique—a beauty I instinctively perceive as a façade, a tool for manipulation.

"Hey, you're Shin, right?"

"Yeah," I reply, slightly caught off guard.

"I'm Evelyn, your new roommate," she says casually as she steps into the dorm.

I watch as she confidently strolls in, her presence filling the small space instantly. She doesn't hesitate to set her bag down on the other bed—my bed.

"Uh, that's mine," I say, trying to sound assertive but failing miserably.

She raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable, then lets out a soft chuckle. "Relax, I'm just dropping my stuff here for now. You don't have to look so tense." She moves her bag to the other side of the room without further complaint.

I stand there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. The last thing I expected was to have a roommate, let alone one like her.

"So, Shin," she continues, unpacking her things as if she owns the place, "What's your deal?"

"My… deal?" I echo, unsure of what she's getting at.

"Yeah, you know. Why'd you transfer mid-year? Nobody does that unless something happened." She glances at me briefly before going back to her things.

The directness of her question catches me off guard. I feel my chest tighten, and for a moment, I consider lying. But something about her gaze—steady, unbothered—makes me think she wouldn't buy it.

"It's… complicated," I mutter, avoiding her eyes.

"Weirdo," she says with a shrug, dropping the subject as easily as she brought it up.

Silence fills the room, save for the rustling of her unpacking. I find myself studying her, trying to figure her out. Evelyn is nothing like the people I've encountered before. She seems so… comfortable in her skin, as if nothing could rattle her. It's unnerving.

"So, you don't talk much, huh?" she says suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Not anymore," I mutter, my voice quieter than I intended.

"Good," she says with a smirk, "I hate chatterboxes. Makes this arrangement easier."

She doesn't say much else after that, and I'm grateful for the quiet. But something about her presence feels intrusive, like a storm on the horizon I can't ignore.

As night falls, I sit on my bed, staring at the blank wall, my thoughts spiraling. Evelyn, now lounging on her bed scrolling through her phone, is a stark contrast to my restless energy.

"Hey, Shin," she calls out without looking up.

"Yeah?"

"Do you believe in fate?"

Her question feels like a sharp turn in the conversation—or lack of one. I hesitate, but only for a moment.

"No," I say firmly. "No, I don't."

She finally looks up, her eyes catching mine. "You don't sound like you're lying," she says, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"I don't have a reason to."

Evelyn studies me for a moment, her expression unreadable, then turns back to her phone. "Fair enough. But you know, just because you don't believe in it doesn't mean it's not real."

Her words linger in the air long after she stops talking. I don't know why, but they send a chill down my spine.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I've stepped into something I don't understand. Something I can't control. And Evelyn… she feels like the start of it.

I shift uncomfortably on the bed, Evelyn's words replaying in my head. Fate. The very idea feels ridiculous to me, as if life itself could be governed by some invisible thread pulling us in directions we can't control. I've seen too much—felt too much—to believe in something so absurd.

"You're wrong," I say suddenly, surprising even myself.

Evelyn glances at me, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Am I?"

"Yeah," I mutter, my voice sharper than before. "People say it's fate when they want to justify their failures. It's easier to believe things are predetermined than to admit you screwed up, or that life just… sucks sometimes."

Evelyn sets her phone down, turning her full attention to me. There's something in her gaze that I can't quite read—like she's sizing me up, peeling back the layers I try so hard to keep hidden. "That's a pretty cynical take," she says finally. "But not surprising."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I shoot back, feeling defensive.

"You're the type who blames yourself for everything, aren't you?" she asks, her tone annoyingly calm. "You think if you just tried harder, if you weren't so 'pathetic,' things would magically get better."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I don't respond. I can't. I look away, my jaw tightening as I stare at the blank wall again.

"I'm not wrong, am I?" she presses.

"You don't know me," I snap, the words coming out harsher than I intended.

Evelyn doesn't flinch. If anything, her smirk grows faintly wider. "You're right. I don't. But I've met people like you before. Always convinced they're the problem. Always so afraid of something."

I don't know what's more infuriating—how close to home her words hit or the fact that she says them so casually, as if dissecting me is the easiest thing in the world. "If you're so smart, what do you think people like me are afraid of?"

She pauses, leaning back against the wall with an almost lazy confidence. "The truth.

"The truth?"

"Yeah," she says, meeting my eyes again. "That maybe it's not all your fault. That life isn't fair, and sometimes things just happen. Maybe you're not as in control as you think you are."

I clench my fists, my heart pounding in my chest. "That's exactly why fate doesn't exist," I argue, my voice rising. "If we're not in control, if we just let things 'happen,' then what's the point of anything? People have to take responsibility. They have to make choices."

"And what if your choices are leading you exactly where you're meant to be?" she counters smoothly.

I scoff, shaking my head. "You can't have it both ways. Either I'm in control, or I'm not. If I screw up, that's on me—not some invisible force playing games with my life."

Evelyn doesn't respond right away. She just watches me, an unreadable look on her face, like she's testing me—or waiting for something. Finally, she shrugs. "Maybe. But just remember—dismissing something doesn't make it any less real."

Her words hang in the air again, heavy and unshakable. I turn away, feeling a strange mix of anger and confusion churning inside me. Why does she care? Why is she even pushing this? Why does she feel so sure of herself while I can barely keep my own thoughts together?

Silence settles between us again, but it's different this time. The weight of her presence feels even heavier now, as if she's dragged something to the surface that I was trying to bury. I close my eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to shake off the discomfort.

Fate. Control. Responsibility.

I don't know why her words bother me so much, but I do know one thing—I refuse to believe my life is being controlled by anything other than me. If I'm going to suffer, if I'm going to fail, it's going to be because of my choices. Nothing more, nothing less.

But even as I think this, I can't ignore the chill running down my spine. It's the same feeling I had earlier—like I've stepped into something I don't understand. And Evelyn… she's right at the center of it.

I glance over at her, now lying on her bed with her eyes closed, as if the conversation never happened. I want to believe she's just another stranger passing through my life, someone I'll forget about in time.

But deep down, I know that's not true.

And for the first time in years, I feel like I'm standing at the edge of something I can't see—something that feels too much like destiny.

I shift on the bed, still feeling the weight of Evelyn's words pressing down on me. A quiet tension hangs in the room, and I can't stop myself from breaking it.

"What made you conjure up that anyway?" I ask, my voice low but edged with irritation. I'm not sure why I care, but I do.

Evelyn opens one eye and glances at me from across the room. For a moment, she looks like she's debating whether to answer, then she smirks faintly and stretches her arms behind her head. "You looked like someone who needed to hear it."

I frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You carry it with you," she says simply, as if it's obvious. "That frustration. That need to prove something. I've seen it before."

"You don't know me," I say, repeating the same words as earlier, but this time they sound weaker, less convincing.

Evelyn shrugs. "You're right, I don't. But people aren't as complicated as they think. They wear their struggles, even when they think they're hiding them." Her gaze sharpens, locking onto mine. "And you? You're wearing yours like a coat of armor."

I look away, her words hitting closer to home than I'd like to admit. "You're overthinking it."

"Am I?" she challenges, her voice calm but persistent. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything, Shin. I don't care what your deal is or why you transferred here. I'm just saying—fate or no fate—something brought you here. Something's pushing you, whether you like it or not."

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "You really love talking about fate, don't you?"

She smirks again, but this time there's something softer in it, almost thoughtful. "Not really. I just like watching people squirm when they don't have all the answers."

"That's not funny," I mutter, glaring at the floor.

Evelyn doesn't respond immediately. When I glance up, she's looking at me with an expression I can't read—curiosity mixed with something deeper, though I can't place what. "Maybe not," she says finally. "But you'll see. People don't end up where they are by accident."

I want to argue, to tell her she's wrong, that the world doesn't work that way. But something about her words sticks with me, gnawing at the back of my mind. I think about everything that led me here—every decision, every failure, every moment I'd rather forget.

Maybe I did put myself here. Maybe it was just my choices—my screw-ups—that led me to this moment. But still… why does it feel like Evelyn knows something I don't? Like she's playing a game I can't even see?

"What about you?" I ask suddenly, surprising even myself.

Evelyn raises an eyebrow. "What about me?"

"You talk like you've got it all figured out. Like fate's this big secret only you know about. Why?"

Her smirk fades slightly, and for a moment, her expression grows distant. It's the first crack I've seen in her otherwise impenetrable confidence. "I don't have it all figured out," she says quietly. "But I've learned that life has a way of putting people exactly where they need to be."

"Even if they don't want to be there?" I ask skeptically.

"Especially then."

Her words linger in the air, heavier than before. I study her face, trying to decipher what she's hiding, but she's already turned her gaze back to the ceiling, shutting me out again.

I lean back against the wall, my mind racing. I don't believe in fate—I can't. But Evelyn's words dig into me like splinters, and no matter how much I try to ignore them, I can't shake the feeling that she's right about one thing:

I didn't end up here by accident.

And for the first time, I wonder if maybe… just maybe… I'm not the one in control.