My roommate dated every Tinder date before I could until I started dating her landlord who’s evicting her. I’m Madison and I swear I’m not a vindictive person, but sometimes karma just works in the most beautiful ways. It started 3 months ago when I matched with this guy named Tyler. He was cute, worked in marketing, had a dog in his photos.

We chatted for 2 days, really h!t it off. He asked me out for Thursday night. I was excited. I told my roommate Vanessa about it while we were both in the kitchen making dinner. She seemed interested. Asked me all these questions, where we were, meeting, what time, what he looked like. I thought she was just being a good friend, you know, getting invested in my dating life.

Thursday morning, I woke up to a text from Tyler cancelling. Said something came up. I was disappointed, but whatever. These things happen. That night, I came home around 9:00. Vanessa wasn’t there. I figured she was out with friends or whatever. I ordered takeout, watched Netflix, went to bed. Friday afternoon, I was scrolling through Instagram, and there it was.

Vanessa had posted a story. Her and Tyler at the exact restaurant he was supposed to take. Me, too. She had her hand on his arm. He was smiling at her. My stomach dropped. I stared at my phone for like five minutes straight trying to process what I was seeing. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was a different Tyler.

But no, same face, same dog in his profile picture that I could see tagged in her photo. When Vanessa got home that night, I confronted her casually. I was like, “Hey, funny thing. I saw your story. That guy looked familiar.” She didn’t even flinch, just shrugged and said, “Oh yeah, Tyler met him on Bumble. Why? I matched with him on Tinder.

” I said, “We had a date planned for last night.” She looked at me with this expression I couldn’t quite read. Then she laughed, actually laughed. Oh my god, what are the odds? Small world, I guess. But here’s the thing. I could see it in her eyes. She knew. She absolutely knew. I let it go because I didn’t have proof. Maybe it really was just a bizarre coincidence.

Denver’s dating pool isn’t that big, right? We’re both single women in our late 20s. Maybe we just have similar taste in guys. Two weeks later, I matched with Brandon, accountant. Really funny. We talked about hiking and craft beer. We plan to meet Saturday afternoon at this coffee shop downtown. Friday night, I mentioned it to Vanessa.

Again, just casual conversation. I was sitting on the couch. She was in the kitchen. I said something like, “Oh, hey. I have a coffee date tomorrow with this guy, Brandon.” She came into the living room. “Brandon? What’s his last name?” I told her. I even showed her his profile because she asked.

Saturday morning, Brandon canled. “Family emergency,” he said. I didn’t even need to check Instagram this time, but I did anyway. Sunday morning, there it was. Vanessa and Brandon at a brewery. She was wearing the new dress she just bought. This time, I didn’t confront her immediately. I was too angry. I went to my room and just sat there trying to figure out what was happening.

Was she hacking my Tinder? Did she have access to my matches somehow? I checked my phone security, changed all my passwords. Everything seemed fine. No suspicious login. Then I realized she didn’t need to hack anything. I was literally telling her about these guys, showing her their profiles, giving her their names.

She was just finding them on other apps and matching with them first or reaching out directly if she could find them on Instagram or Facebook. It was so calculated, so deliberate. I felt sick. That night, I asked her point blank. Did you go out with Brandon? Brandon who? She was eating cereal, standing at the kitchen counter.

The guy I told you I was supposed to meet yesterday. She paused just for a second, then continued eating. Oh, yeah. Different Brandon, though. Brandon Mitchell works in finance. Mine was Brandon Mitchell, too. Accountant, huh? Must be the same guy then. Weird. She wasn’t even trying to sound convincing anymore. Why are you doing this? I asked.

She finally looked at me. Doing what? Madison? Dating? Sorry, I didn’t realize you had a monopoly on every single guy in Denver. You’re deliberately going after the guys I match with. Prove it, she said. Then she smiled. this cold, empty smile. Besides, if they’re so quick to ditch you for me, maybe that says something about you, not me.

I stood there stunned. We’d been friends for 3 years, roommates for two. I thought I knew her. But this person in front of me, I didn’t recognize her at all. After that, I stopped telling her about my dates, stopped mentioning anything about my dating life, but the damage was done. I was paranoid. Every match felt contaminated somehow, like she was watching, waiting.

I took a break from dating apps, focused on work, on my friends, on anything else. Then one Tuesday evening, I got home from work and found a notice taped to our apartment door. It was an eviction warning addressed to Vanessa. She was 2 months behind on rent. I didn’t know that. We split everything else, but we paid rent separately to the landlord.

Her financial situation was her business. Or so I thought. I took the notice inside and left it on the kitchen counter. When Vanessa got home, she saw it and just crumpled it up, threw it in the trash. You’re getting evicted? I asked. It’s fine. Marcus is just being dramatic. I’ll figure it out. Marcus, that was our landlord.

I’d never actually met him. We’d moved in two years ago, but everything was done through email and a property management company. Vanessa had been the one to find the place. She’d handled most of the communication. Two months of rent isn’t nothing, I said. Are you okay? Do you need help? I don’t need anything from you. She snapped.

Then she went to her room and slammed the door. The next day, I got an email from Marcus. He wanted to schedule a time to inspect the apartment. Routine maintenance, he said. He’d be by Friday afternoon if that worked for me. I said yes. Friday came. I worked from home that day, so I was there when he knocked.

I opened the door and Okay. Marcus was not what I expected. I’d pictured some old guy, maybe in his 50s or 60s, someone who inherited property from his parents or whatever. Marcus was 32, tall, dark hair, really nice eyes. He was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, and he had this warm, genuine smile. You must be Madison, he said. I’m Marcus.

We shook hands. I let him in. He walked through the apartment, checking things, faucets, light fixtures, windows. He made notes on his phone. Very professional. Everything looks good, he said when he was done. You’ve taken good care of the place. Thanks. It’s mostly me doing the cleaning, so I didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it came out that way. He caught it, raised an eyebrow.

Roommate issues? I shrugged. Isn’t that just part of having roommates? He smiled. Fair enough. We talked for a few more minutes about the building, about the neighborhood. He mentioned he owned three properties in the area. This was his full-time job now, but he used to work in real estate development.

He was easy to talk to, really easy. And I realized standing there in my living room that I was attracted to him, which felt weird given the circumstances. Before he left, he paused at the door. Look, I probably shouldn’t say this, but you seem like a good tenant. If Vanessa’s situation doesn’t resolve and you need to find a new place, I have another unit opening up next month.

Smaller, but cheaper. Just keep it in mind. I will. Thanks. After he left, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, which was ridiculous. He was my landlord. That was weird, right? Probably inappropriate. But then 2 days later, he emailed me, not about the apartment. He said he’d been thinking about our conversation, and he wanted to recommend this restaurant he’d mentioned.

Said if I ever wanted to check it out, he’d be happy to show me. As friends, of course. I stared at that email for like an hour. Then I said yes. We met Tuesday night. The restaurant was small, kind of hidden, amazing Italian food. We sat there for 3 hours just talking about everything.

Our families, our jobs, what we wanted out of life. He was funny, smart, thoughtful. At the end of the night, he walked me to my car. I had a really great time, he said. Me, too. Would you want to do this again? Yes, definitely. Yes. We started seeing each other regularly, two or three times a week. Coffee dates, dinner dates. We went hiking one weekend, saw a movie another night. It was easy, natural.

the best relationship I’d had in years. I didn’t tell Vanessa, partially because we barely spoke anymore, partially because I didn’t want to. She’d made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with my life, so I returned the favor. About a month into dating Marcus, he brought up Vanessa’s rent situation. We were at his place having dinner.

She’s 3 months behind now, he said. I’ve tried to work with her, offered payment plans. Nothing. She won’t respond to my emails or calls. I’m going to have to file for eviction formally. What does that mean for me? I asked. You’ll be fine. The lease is in both your names, but you’re current on your portion.

we can work something out. Transfer the lease to just you or you can find a new roommate or yeah, we’ll figure it out. I nodded. I felt bad for Vanessa in an abstract way. But also, I was still angry about the whole dating sabotage thing. Part of me felt like this was karma. The eviction notice was served 2 weeks later. Official this time.

Vanessa had 30 days. That night, she finally confronted me. I was in my room when she barged in without knocking. Did you know about this? She waved the notice at me. About what? The eviction. Did Marcus tell you he was doing this? I hesitated, which was my mistake. She saw it immediately. You did. You knew. Her face twisted.

You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you? That’s none of your business. Oh my god, you are. You’re sleeping with our landlord. That’s so pathetic, Madison. At least I’m not stealing other people’s dates. I shot back. She laughed. This harsh, bitter sound. Is that what this is about? You’re still mad about that? You deliberately sabotaged my dating life for months, and you don’t even care.

Those guys didn’t want you anyway, she said. I did you a favor. Showed you who they really were by lying to them, by manipulating situations. I didn’t lie about anything. I just I was better. They chose me. The audacity, the absolute audacity of her statement made me speechless. “Get out of my room,” I finally said.

“This is my apartment, too.” For 30 more days, she stared at me. Then she left, slamming the door behind her. Over the next week, Vanessa became impossible to live with. She stopped cleaning up after herself completely, left dishes in the sink for days, played music loud at weird hours, brought random people over at 2:00 in the morning.

I started staying at Marcus’ place more. It was easier, quieter. Plus, I was falling for him. really falling. We hadn’t said the words yet, but I felt it, and I was pretty sure he did, too. One night, we were lying in his bed just talking. I asked him, “Why’d you ask me out? Isn’t it weird the landlord tenant thing?” He thought about it.

Honestly, yeah, probably. But I You seem different. Smart, funny, kind. I couldn’t stop thinking about you after that first inspection. And I figured, worst case scenario, you’d say no, and we’d keep things professional. Best case scenario, he pulled me closer. This I kissed him. We fell asleep, tangled together. The next morning, I woke up to 17 missed calls from Vanessa and about 30 texts.

My heart started racing. I called her back immediately. She answered on the first ring. Where are you? I’m I stayed at a friend’s place. What’s wrong? I need to talk to you now. Get home. Vanessa, what’s going on? Just please, I need you to come home. I looked at Marcus. He was awake now, watching me with concern. I told him I had to go.

He offered to come with me, but I said no. This felt like something I needed to handle alone. When I got to the apartment, Vanessa was sitting on the couch. She looked terrible, like she hadn’t slept in days. “What happened?” I asked. “I need to tell you something about Marcus.” My stomach dropped. “What about him?” She took a breath.

“He’s He’s the reason I’ve been so broke. The reason I can’t pay rent.” “What are you talking about? We were together,” she said. Marcus and me 2 years ago, right before you moved in. I felt the room tilt. “You’re lying. I’m not. We dated for 6 months. It was serious.” Or I thought it was.

Then he ended things out of nowhere. Said he needed space. Needed to focus on his business. I was devastated. Why didn’t you tell me this? Because I found this place through him. she said. He offered it to me, said we could still be friends, said it would be a fresh start, and I needed somewhere to live, so I agreed.

You weren’t supposed to move in. It was supposed to just be me, but then I couldn’t afford it alone, so I found you. I sat down. My head was spinning. He’s been manipulating you, Vanessa continued. The whole thing, the eviction, it’s not about the rent. He’s trying to get rid of me, and he’s using you to do it.

That doesn’t make any sense. If he wanted you gone, he could have just not renewed your lease. It’s more complicated than that. There are there are things he doesn’t want me to tell people. Like, what? She looked away. He’s not who you think he is, Madison. The properties he owns, some of them were acquired in, let’s just say, questionable ways.

Exploiting loopholes, taking advantage of people who didn’t understand contracts. I found out about it when we were together. He made me sign an NDA when we broke up. An NDA? That’s Vanessa. That sounds insane. I know how it sounds, but I’m telling you the truth. And when I started missing rent payments because I lost my job 2 months ago, he saw an opportunity.

Get rid of me. Make sure I can’t talk. If you lost your job, why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped because I didn’t want your pity and because because I was embarrassed, okay, about everything, the job, Marcus, all of it. I didn’t know what to believe. Part of me wanted to think she was making this up, trying to manipulate me like she’d manipulated those dating situations.

But there was something in her voice, something raw and real that I hadn’t heard in months. I need to talk to Marcus, I said. Be careful, please. He’s He’s good at making people believe him. I left the apartment and drove to Marcus’ place. He was home, seemed happy to see me until he saw my face. What’s wrong? He asked. Did you date Vanessa? His expression changed. Became guarded. Yes, briefly.

2 years ago. Why didn’t you tell me? Because it didn’t matter. It was over long before I met you. She said you made her sign an NDA. He ran his hand through his hair. It’s not It’s not what she made it sound like, I’m sure. So, you did make her sign one? Yes, but there were reasons. She was threatening to spread rumors about my business.

False information that could have ruined my reputation. The NDA was to protect myself. What kind of rumors does it matter? They were lies, Madison. She was angry about the breakup and wanted to hurt me. Were they lies though? I asked. The stuff about your properties, the questionable acquisitions. He looked at me for a long moment.

Is that what she told you? That I’m some kind of slum lord taking advantage of people? Is it true? I’ve never done anything illegal. Everything I’ve done has been by the book legal. But yes, I’ve bought properties that were in distress, worked deals that were favorable to me. That’s business, Madison. That’s how real estate works.

Did you use her to get information about properties, about people? He didn’t answer immediately, which was answer enough. She worked for a property management company. He finally said she had access to information about buildings that were struggling, owners who were behind on mortgages. I used that information, yes, but she knew what I was doing.

She was helping me willingly until she wasn’t. Until she realized she could try to blackmail me with it, he said. That’s when I ended things. That’s when the NDA happened. I felt nauseous. So, you did use her. We used each other. It was mutually beneficial until it wasn’t. And now the eviction, is that really about rent? Yes, he said firmly.

I’ve given her multiple chances, offered payment plans. She’s refused every option. What am I supposed to do? Let her stay until she finds a job. Work something out. Why would I do that? She’s not my problem anymore. The coldness in his voice. It was like seeing him for the first time. Really? Seeing him? Is that what I am, too? I asked.

Mutually beneficial until I’m not. That’s not fair. What we have is different. Is it? Or am I just another convenient situation for you, Madison? Come on. You know how I feel about you. Do I? Because right now, I’m wondering if this whole thing was just about getting back at Vanessa, using me to make her feel worse, to twist the knife.

That’s not That’s not why I asked you out, but it was part of it, wasn’t it? You knew it would bother her. You knew it would hurt. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t say anything. I left. I drove around for an hour just trying to process everything. Both of them had lied to me. Both of them had used me in different ways. Vanessa with her dating sabotage, Marcus with whatever this was.

I felt like an idiot. When I got back to the apartment, Vanessa was still on the couch. She looked up when I came in. You were right, I said. About some of it, anyway, she nodded. Didn’t look smug or satisfied. Just tired. Why did you do it? I asked. The thing with my dates, the sabotage.

She was quiet for a long time. Then she said, “Because I was jealous. You were so happy, so optimistic. Every guy you matched with, you’d get this excited look on your face like, “This one might be different. This one might be special.” And I I couldn’t have that anymore. Marcus ruined that for me. So, I wanted to ruin it for you, too.

It was the most honest she’d been with me in months, maybe ever. That’s really messed up. I said, “I know. I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but I am.” We sat in silence for a while. I broke up with him. I finally said, “Marcus, good. I don’t know if I believe everything you told me about the properties and the exploitation, but I believe he used you and I believe he was using me. Two, he’s good at that.

She said, making you feel special, making you think you’re different from everyone else. Yeah, he is. More silence. I really do need to move out, Vanessa said. I can’t afford this place, even if Marcus wasn’t evicting me. I lost my job and I’ve been trying to find something else, but it’s been hard.

What happened? Why’d you lose it? Budget cuts. Whole department got laid off. Wrong place, wrong time. Why didn’t you just tell me? We could have figured something out because asking for help feels like admitting defeat and I’ve been feeling defeated enough as it is. I thought about it about everything that had happened. I’m still angry.

I said about what you did the dates thing. That was cruel. I know. But I get it. Why you did it doesn’t make it okay, but I get it. She looked at me. Really looked at me. I don’t deserve your understanding. Probably not. But you have it anyway. Over the next few days, we talked more. Really talked about Marcus.

about what had happened between them, about the pressure she’d been under, about how the sabotage had started small and then spiraled. She told me about the properties Marcus had acquired, the families who’d lost their homes, how he’d technically done nothing illegal, but morally. It was murky at best. I wanted to do something about it, report him somehow.

But Vanessa said the NDA made that complicated, and without proof beyond her word, it would just be accusations. Still, I couldn’t let it go completely. I spent a week digging into Marcus’ business. public records, court filings, news articles. There wasn’t much. He was careful, but there were patterns. Properties bought for suspiciously low amounts.

Previous owners who’d filed for bankruptcy shortly after. Then I found something. A lawsuit filed 3 years ago. A family who’d lost their home claimed Marcus had misrepresented terms of a contract. The case was settled out of court. Sealed records. But I remembered something Marcus had said once about a property deal that had gotten messy.

He’d been vague about details, but he’d mentioned the settlement amount. It was public record in a different filing. I started connecting dots, found other settlements, other NDAs, a pattern of behavior that wasn’t illegal exactly, but was definitely exploitative. I compiled everything into a document, spent hours making sure it was accurate, checked every source twice, then I sent it to a local journalist who’d written about housing issues before, someone who might actually do something with the information. I didn’t tell Vanessa, “Not

yet. Maybe nothing would come of it, but at least I’d tried.” 3 days later, the journalist reached out. She wanted to interview me, and she wanted to talk to Vanessa if possible. I told Vanessa she was scared at first. The NDA, but the journalist said she had lawyers who could help with that, protect her. Vanessa agreed.

The article came out 2 weeks later. Front page of the local news website. It didn’t name Marcus directly, but it detailed patterns of predatory real estate practices in Denver. Enough dots that people could connect them. Within days, there were calls for investigations. Other victims came forward. The story got picked up by bigger outlets.

Marcus tried to call me, left voicemails, sent texts. I blocked his number. He couldn’t prove I’d been the source, but he probably knew. The eviction got put on hold while everything was investigated. Vanessa found a new job, not in property management this time, something completely different. She started making payments again.

Marcus ended up selling most of his properties. Whether that was because of the investigation or just to cut his losses, I don’t know. Our building got sold to a new owner, someone who seemed more interested in maintaining properties than exploiting them. Vanessa and I decided to stay roommates, sign a new lease together, start fresh. It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t me yet. Still had issues, still had to rebuild trust, but we were trying. One night about 2 months after everything went down, we were sitting on the couch watching TV, some reality show we both hated but couldn’t stop watching. “Hey,” Vanessa said during a commercial break. “I need to tell you something.” My stomach tensed.

“What?” Tyler and Brandon, the guys I went out with. “Yeah, they both asked about you after. Said they felt like they’d made a mistake, that they’d let someone manipulate them into cancelelling on you. What do you mean?” I may have I may have told them that you’d talked badly about them, that you were only going out with them as a backup.

Option that you were already seeing someone seriously. You did what? I know. I know it was terrible, but I wanted you to know. And I wanted you to know that I told them the truth. Recently, reached out and explained that I’d lied. Why? Because you deserved for them to know. And because I don’t know. I’m trying to be better.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Anyway, she continued. Tyler wanted me to give you his number. If you’re still interested. He felt really bad about how things went down. She handed me a piece of paper with a number written on it. I looked at it. I don’t know if I want to date anyone right now. After Marcus, after everything. That’s fair.

But, you know, when you’re ready, if you’re ready. I folded the paper and put it in my pocket. Maybe. And Madison, yeah, thank you for not giving up on me, even when I gave you every reason to. Thank you for being honest. Finally, she smiled. A real smile. The first one I’d seen from her in months. We went back to watching our show, and for the first time in a long time, things felt normal.

Not perfect, but normal. A few weeks later, I unblocked Marcus’ number. Not because I wanted to talk to him, but because I wanted to see if he’d tried to contact me again. He hadn’t. Not since I’d blocked him initially. There was something final about that. Some closure I didn’t know I needed.

I deleted his contact information, deleted our text history, all of it. Then I pulled out the piece of paper with Tyler’s number, looked at it for a long time. I wasn’t ready yet, but maybe I would be soon. And if not Tyler, then someone else eventually. Because Vanessa had been wrong about one thing. I wasn’t optimistic because I was naive.

I was optimistic because I chose to be. Despite the disappointments, despite the betrayals, that was my strength, not my weakness. Vanessa came home from work that night in a good mood. She’d gotten praise from her manager. Nothing major, just recognition that she was doing well.

We ordered pizza, watched another terrible reality show, laughed at the drama. You know what’s funny? Vanessa said, “A year ago, if someone had told me we’d be here like this after everything, I wouldn’t have believed them.” Yeah, me neither. I’m glad we are though. Me, too. My phone buzzed. A notification. Someone had liked me on Tinder. Some guy named Chris.

I looked at his profile. He seemed nice. Worked as a teacher. Had pictures of him hiking and with a dog. Vanessa glanced over. Are you going to message him? I don’t know. Maybe you should. What’s the worst that could happen? We both laughed at that. Given our history, the worst that could happen was a lot of things, but maybe that was okay.

Maybe the disasters were just part of the process. I sent Chris a message, something simple, just a hello and a comment about his dog. He responded almost immediately. We chatted for a bit. He was funny, sweet. He asked if I wanted to get coffee sometime. I glanced at Vanessa. She was watching me with this expression I couldn’t quite read. Then she nodded just slightly.

I said yes to Chris. We made plans for Saturday. This time I didn’t tell Vanessa any details. Not his last name, not where we were meeting, not what time. Some things needed to stay private, at least until I knew if this was going somewhere. She understood. Didn’t ask, just said, “Good luck. You deserve someone nice. Thanks.

I think I do.” Saturday came. I met Chris at the coffee shop. He was even nicer in person. We talked for 2 hours. When it was over, he asked if I’d want to get dinner sometime. I said yes again. Over the next few weeks, Chris and I kept seeing each other slowly, carefully, getting to know each other without rushing. He didn’t ask to move too fast.

didn’t push for anything I wasn’t ready for. Just let things develop naturally. It was refreshing, normal, healthy. Marcus tried to reach out one more time, not directly, through a mutual acquaintance who’d heard I was dating someone new. The message was vague. Something about how he hoped I was happy, how he’d made mistakes but hoped I could forgive him someday.

I didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. Some relationships end with closure, with neat bows and resolved feelings. Others just end. And you move on. 3 months after everything went down, I got a message from the journalist who’d written the article about Marcus. There was going to be a follow-up piece. More victims had come forward.

There might be actual charges filed. She wanted to know if Vanessa and I would be willing to be interviewed on the record this time with our names attached. I asked Vanessa. She thought about it for a long time. Then she said yes. We did the interview together, told our stories about how Marcus had manipulated situations, used information, exploited people’s vulnerabilities.

The article came out a week later. It was big, bigger than the first one. National outlets picked it up. Marcus’ name was everywhere. His business reputation was destroyed. Part of me felt bad. Despite everything, there was still that small voice that said, “Maybe I’d gone too far.” But then I remembered the families who’d lost their homes, the people he’d taken advantage of, the way he’d used both Vanessa and me.

“No, I’d done the right thing.” Chris read the article. I told him some of what had happened, but not everything. Seeing it in print with all the details was different. “Are you okay?” he asked after. “Yeah, I think I am. That must have been hard going through all of that.” It was, “But I’m glad it’s out there now. Glad people know. He held my hand.

You’re pretty amazing. You know that? I don’t know about amazing. Just stubborn, maybe. Once I start something, I have to finish it. That’s a good quality. It can be. Sometimes it just means I hold grudges for too long. He smiled. Well, remind me never to cross you. Good plan. A few months passed.

Life settled into a new normal. Chris and I kept dating. It was getting serious. We’d said the words, “I love you.” They felt real. True. Vanessa started seeing someone, too. A guy she’d met at her new job. He seemed good for her. Stable, kind, not dramatic. We had dinner together once. the four of us. It was nice.

A little awkward at first, but nice. This is weird, right? Vanessa said when the guys went to get drinks from the bar. Us here with our respective boyfriends after everything. Super weird. I agreed. But good. Weird. Yeah, good. Weird. Chris and I got more serious. Started talking about moving in together. Maybe not right away, but eventually.

I asked Vanessa how she’d feel about that. Getting a new roommate, being on her own. Honestly, I think it would be good for me. I’ve been depending on other people for too long. Financially, emotionally. Time to figure out how to do things by myself. You sure? Yeah, I’m sure. Plus, you and Chris are good together. You should do what makes you happy. Thanks.

That means a lot. One year after everything started, I was cleaning out my closet when I found the piece of paper with Tyler’s number on it. I’d never called him, never reached out. I thought about texting him just to say, I don’t know, something. But I threw the paper away instead. That chapter was closed. Chris was my present, hopefully my future.

Some connections aren’t meant to happen. Some timing is just wrong, and that’s okay. I ran into Marcus once at a grocery store. We both froze when we saw each other. Madison, he said. Marcus, how have you been? Good. You managing trying to rebuild? I nodded. Didn’t know what else to say. I’m sorry, he said.

For how things ended, for everything. Okay, I mean it. I was in a bad place. Made bad choices. You didn’t deserve that. No, I didn’t. I hope. I hope you’re happy now. I am, I said, and I meant it. He nodded. Then he walked away down a different aisle. Out of my life for real this time. Chris was waiting in the car. I got in and he looked at me.

You okay? You look shaken. I’m fine. Just ran into someone I used to know. Want to talk about it? Not really. Can we just go home? Of course, home. It was Chris’s apartment, but it already felt like home. We’d been spending so much time there that I’d basically moved in without officially moving in.

My lease with Vanessa was up in 2 months. We decided not to renew together. She was getting her own studio. I was moving in with Chris officially. It felt right, like everything had led to this point. The night before I moved out, Vanessa and I sat on our couch one last time, drinking wine, talking about everything and nothing.

Remember when we first moved in? She said, “We were so excited. Thought we were going to be the best roommates ever.” We were for a while, then we weren’t. Then we figured it out, I said. Did we though figure it out? I think so. We’re here, aren’t we? Still friends despite everything. She smiled. Yeah, despite everything.

I’m going to miss this place, I said. Me, too. But I’m excited for what’s next for both of us. Me, too. We clinkedked our glasses together. A toast to endings to beginnings to the messy, complicated journey between them. The next day, Chris helped me move my stuff. Vanessa helped, too. We ordered pizza, laughed about old memories.

It was bittersweet, but good. When everything was moved, Vanessa hugged me. Thank you, she said, for everything, for not giving up. Thank you for being honest. Finally. Better late than never, right? Right. I watched her drive away from my new place. Chris came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. You good? He asked.

Yeah, I’m good. And I was really truly good. 2 years after my roommate dated every Tinder date before I could. I was standing in a completely different place, literally and figuratively. Chris and I got engaged 6 months after I moved in, married 6 months after that. Small ceremony, just close friends and family.

Vanessa was there. She’d become friends with Chris, too. Not super close, but friendly, comfortable. She’d been promoted at her job, was doing really well. Her boyfriend was there at the wedding, too. They seemed happy. Marcus wasn’t invited, obviously, but I’d heard through the grapevine that he’d moved to a different state, started over somewhere new.

Part of me hoped he’d learned something, become a better person, but mostly, I just didn’t think about him anymore. My wedding night, Vanessa pulled me aside. “You look happy,” she said. “I am. I’m glad. You deserve this.” “So do you. I hope you find it, too.” “I think I might have,” she said. Not there yet, but getting closer. Good. We hugged. A real hug.

The kind that said we’d been through something together and come out the other side. Later that night, Chris and I were alone in our hotel room. Just us. Finally married. Can I tell you something? I said anything. I’m really glad your profile didn’t get stolen by my old roommate. He laughed. What? I explained the whole thing.

The dating sabotage, the Marcus situation, all of it. He’d heard pieces, but never the full story. Wow. He said when I was done. That’s that’s a lot. I know. kind of a disaster, but it led to this to us. So maybe not a complete disaster. No, not complete. He kissed me. I love you, Madison. I love you, too.

And that was it. That was the end of the story. Not with grand revelations or perfect closure. Just with happiness, with moving forward, with choosing to build something new instead of staying stuck in something broken. Sometimes poetic justice isn’t about revenge. It’s just about living well, being happy, finding something real after surviving something fake.

My roommate dated every Tinder date before I could until I started dating her landlord who was evicting her. But in the end, none of that mattered because the best relationship I ever had wasn’t with Marcus. It wasn’t even with any of those stolen dates. It was with Chris, someone I found on my own. Someone who chose me. Really chose me.

And that made all the rest of it worth it. Even the I messy parts. Even the painful parts. Because sometimes you have to go through the disaster to find the happiness waiting on the other