My Roommate is a Ghost… and She Won’t Pay Rent! - New Owner - Part 13
Peace lasted exactly…
two days.
Which was already suspicious.
Because happiness in Raghav’s life had weak Wi-Fi.
Doorbell rang.
Raghav opened casually.
Big mistake.
A tall man stood outside.
Well dressed.
Overconfident.
Perfume strong enough to attack lungs.
“Hello,” he smiled.
“I’m Karan. New building owner.”
From inside the apartment…
Meera whispered:
“I hate him already.”
Raghav sighed internally.
“Please don’t start.”
“I started when he smiled.”
Karan stepped inside.
Looked around critically.
“Hm. Old apartment.”
Meera floated behind him.
“You’re an old apartment.”
Raghav pinched his forehead.
This was going badly already.
Karan continued walking around.
“I’m planning renovations.”
Meera gasped dramatically.
“OVER MY DEAD BODY.”
Pause.
“…Actually yes. Technically.”
Raghav coughed loudly to hide laughter.
Karan frowned.
“You okay?”
“Yes. Allergic to rich people.”
Karan smiled politely.
Suspiciously politely.
Meanwhile Meera followed him everywhere.
Judging professionally.
“He walks like motivational speaker.”
“He breathes like LinkedIn post.”
“He definitely says ‘grind never stops.’”
Raghav almost laughed.
Had to pretend cough again.
Now Karan looked concerned medically.
“So,” Karan said,
“I may redesign this entire place.”
Silence.
Dead silence.
Very appropriate silence.
Meera froze completely.
“…What?”
Karan kept talking casually.
“Walls removed. Furniture changed. Maybe modernize the hall.”
Meera looked genuinely horrified.
Like someone insulted her memories personally.
Raghav noticed immediately.
“You okay?” he whispered softly.
She looked around the apartment quietly.
The sofa.
The window.
The kitchen.
Their chaos.
Their life.
“This place…” she said slowly,
“…is all I have left.”
Raghav’s chest tightened instantly.
Then Karan touched the death sofa.
Meera snapped immediately.
“DON’T TOUCH MY DEATH COUCH.”
The sofa moved suddenly.
Hard.
Karan jumped.
“…Did that just move?”
Raghav answered too quickly.
“No.”
The sofa moved again.
Aggressively this time.
Karan stepped back slowly.
“Your furniture is angry.”
Meera crossed arms proudly.
“Yes.”
Raghav whispered harshly:
“STOP ATTACKING PROPERTY OWNERS!”
“He started it!”
“He bought the building!”
“Exactly! Villain behavior!”
Karan cleared throat nervously.
“…Anyway.”
“I’ll return tomorrow with workers.”
Meera gasped dramatically.
“HE’S BRINGING MINIONS.”
Door closed after he left.
Silence.
Then immediately—
“He smells expensive,” Meera complained.
Raghav turned toward her.
“You’re upset.”
“No.”
“You almost murdered a sofa.”
“It was self-defense.”
Raghav walked closer.
“Meera.”
She looked away quietly.
And suddenly…
the apartment felt different.
Smaller somehow.
Fragile.
“What if he changes everything?” she whispered.
No jokes this time.
No sarcasm.
Just fear.
Raghav looked around slowly.
This messy apartment.
These stupid walls.
Their ridiculous little life here.
Then he looked back at her.
“He won’t.”
Meera blinked.
“How do you know?”
Raghav shrugged casually.
“Because I live here too.”
Pause.
Then softer:
“And I’m not letting anyone ruin our home.”
Silence.
Dangerous silence.
Meera stared at him carefully.
Too carefully.
Then immediately ruined it herself.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You said ‘our home.’”
Raghav panicked instantly.
“I MEANT—”
“No no,” she grinned proudly.
“Continue, husband energy.”
Raghav covered his face.
“I regret surviving fever.”
Meera laughed loudly.
Relieved now.
Happy again.
But later that night…
while Raghav slept…
Meera sat alone near the window.
Quiet.
Thinking.
Because for the first time since she died…
she was scared to lose something again.
And unfortunately…
that “something”
was a socially awkward human who complimented oxygen.
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