The Uninvited Guest: A Tale of Second Chances and Dangerous Liaisons

College dormitories are petri dishes for secrets. When you cram six young men into a small room for four years, you think you know everything about them—their hygiene habits, their exam anxieties, and their taste in music. But sometimes, the person sleeping in the bunk next to you is living a double life that feels more like a noir film than a campus comedy.

The Man with a Past

In our freshman year, one of my roommates stood out immediately. Let’s call him Chen. While the rest of us were eighteen-year-old kids fresh out of high school, Chen was twenty-one. He carried a certain "street-wise" aura that we lacked.

As we grew closer, the truth came out. Chen had dropped out of school in the eleventh grade to "wander society." For three years, he lived a life of drifting and odd jobs before his family finally forced him back to finish his education. By the time he landed in our six-person dorm, he was three years our senior—more cynical, more experienced, and seemingly uninterested in the typical campus romances.

The Sudden Transformation

By our junior year, something shifted. Chen, who usually prioritized comfort over style, suddenly became meticulous about his appearance. The oversized hoodies were replaced by tailored shirts; the messy hair was neatly styled.

Naturally, we teased him. "Found a girlfriend, have we?" we’d joke.

Chen would always shake his head, denying it with a smirk. We never saw a girl with him on campus, nor did we see him lingering at the library or the cafeteria with anyone new. Eventually, we chalked it up to a "quarter-life crisis" and assumed he was simply trying to look more professional as graduation approached.

The Chongqing Escape

The turning point came on the eve of the National Day Golden Week. We had a mandatory afternoon lecture with a professor we nicknamed "The Wicked Witch"—a woman who took attendance religiously and would fail anyone who dared to miss a single session.

Chen was frantic. "Brothers, I need a massive favor," he pleaded. "You have to cover for me during roll call. I have to get to Chongqing."

"Chongqing?" we asked, puzzled. "The holiday hasn't even started. Why the rush? Why not wait until tomorrow?"

But Chen wouldn't explain. He just looked like a man possessed. Out of a sense of roommate solidarity (and a little bit of curiosity), we agreed to help him dodge the bullet.

The Secret in the Open

It wasn't until Chen returned from the holiday that the truth spilled out. The mystery woman wasn't a fellow student. She was his high school ex-girlfriend—a woman who was already married.

She had met her husband through an arranged blind date. According to Chen, the marriage was lukewarm at best; her husband didn't earn much and treated her with indifference. She ran a small clothing boutique in their hometown, and through a series of "accidental" messages, she and Chen had rekindled their old flame.

The Chongqing trip had been an elaborate ruse. She told her husband she was going to the city to source inventory for her shop. In reality, she was meeting Chen. They spent three days lost in the neon-lit streets of Chongqing, wandering through the ancient alleys of Ciqikou and the glittering shopping malls, living a fantasy that didn't belong to them.

Later, she even visited our city to see him. As his roommates, we were even invited to a dinner with them. It felt surreal—eating across from a woman who was technically living a lie, watching our friend play a role he wasn't supposed to have.

The Breaking Point

This illicit connection dragged on into our senior year. However, as graduation loomed, reality began to set in. Whether it was a sudden spark of conscience or the crushing weight of his future, Chen tried to end it.

He sat her down and laid out the facts:

This was morally wrong.

He was still a student with no stable income.

His future was a map of uncertainty.

But he had underestimated her. She didn't want a clean break; she wanted him. She told him she was ready to divorce her husband to be with him permanently.

Chen panicked. The "street-wise" guy was suddenly a terrified boy. When his attempts to de-escalate the situation failed, he had to do the unthinkable: he called his parents. It took the intervention of his mother and father to finally settle the matter with the woman. Rumor had it they offered her money to walk away, though she allegedly refused the cash, settling for a bitter, final goodbye.

The Ghost at the Wedding

Four years after graduation, Chen had found his footing. He had a stable government job and was finally getting married to a girl his family approved of. Four of us from the old dorm room traveled across provinces to attend the wedding.

As we stood in the banquet hall, our eyes drifted to a table in the corner. There, sitting quietly, was the ex-girlfriend from the Chongqing trip.

We cornered Chen during the reception. "You’ve got nerves of steel," we whispered. "You actually invited her?"

Chen gave us a hollow, bitter smile. "I didn't invite her," he sighed. "This city is just too small. She found out through the grapevine. She just... showed up."

We didn't stay long after that. As we left the hall, I realized that some chapters of our lives never truly close; they just linger in the background, uninvited, watching us move on while they remain frozen in the past.