But I'm the Landlord

A short while later, there was a knock on my bedroom door.

I opened it, and the three of them stood outside, glaring at me angrily.

Helen shoved me hard. "You were the one who contacted the landlord to increase the rent, weren't you?"

My back slammed into the corner of the table, and the pain made me gasp.

Wendy's eyes were red. "How about this? If you go talk to your relative and have him keep the rent at 800 for us, and you give up the master bedroom, we are still willing to continue sharing the apartment with you."

I crossed my arms and looked at her coldly. "Then where would I live?"

"You can just sleep on the sofa," said Sharon.

She sounded like there was nothing wrong with what she said.

"I pay rent, and I still have to sleep on the sofa?"

"Let's get this straight. You're the one who shamelessly insisted on living with us. Letting you sleep on the sofa is already us being generous."

Wendy wrapped her arms around mine. "We're best friends. How could I not let you have a place to stay? I already found you a new place. It has all the necessary appliances. Most importantly, it's only a couple of yards away from where you work. It's perfect for a workaholic like you."

"Where is it?"

She covered her mouth and snickered. "Woolly's doghouse. It's right outside the company's security office. Isn't that close enough? In the dead of winter, Woolly can even warm your bed for free!"

Helen teased, "Wow, you really are her best friend, aren't you? Don't you think it's a little inappropriate to let her live in a doghouse? But…"

Her gaze landed on me, and she laughed maliciously. "Jessica, don't forget to pay Wendy an agency fee! A place you can move into right away like that isn't easy to find."

Wendy waved her hand. "We're friends. There's no need for an agency fee."

I watched them coldly and didn't say a single word.

Wendy looked at me with a serious expression. "Jessica, living with you has completely exhausted us physically and mentally. You're a control freak. You don't let us stick things on the walls, you don't let us decorate our rooms, and you even nag when a single strand of hair falls on the floor. We really can't stand you anymore."

"I was practically driven into depression by you. You should cover our rent for next quarter—consider it compensation for our emotional distress."

I laughed angrily at those words.

I didn't let them stick things randomly on the walls because the latex paint had been custom, and once it was damaged, it was almost impossible to restore it to exactly the same shade.

I didn't let them renovate the rooms because they wanted to tear down a load-bearing wall to expand the space.

I nagged them about the hair because they never cleaned the floor drain after washing their hair, clogging the pipes and flooding the neighbor downstairs. I had privately paid a large sum of money to settle the matter.

For the six months that they had lived here, the money I had covered for them far exceeded the little rent they paid.

And yet, they actually demanded emotional compensation from me.

What a joke.

"Either you move out, or I move out, and you pay the 2,400 dollars yourselves."

After saying that, I shut the door.

Their furious voices sounded outside.

"Do you know no shame, Jessica?"

"Don't push your luck!"