After five long years apart, they ended up as roommates, neither knowing the other would be sharing the same apartment near varsity. The moment he walked in, that mischievous she gave him made him shirk and he knew immediately —this was going to be a war. And he didn't miss any chance to annoy her. Her morning toast? Tomato sauce smeared inside w the chocolate. Her milkshake— filled with the sourness of lemon. Her phone—ghost pictures popping up on her wallpaper at the most inconvenient moments. But she was no innocent victim. She had her weapons ready— sending cringy, texts to his crush while he was mid-shower, leaving weird demands in group chats that had no explanation, and eating his favorite snacks right in front of him with that grin—I dare you to stop me. And one morning, she was right beside him, talking nonstop —ignoring the professor's cold glare. He tried to stop her, but she was something else. "Can't you stop talking for at least ten minutes?", he asked, annoyed. "Nope. If you can, then make me shut up." , she challenged, holding back a laugh. He leaned closer, whispering in her ears — "I can, but the professor might kill me if you start moaning in the middle of the class." He looked back at her shocked expression. "Want me to shut you up right now?"