Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Life with Megumi quickly descended into chaos. It wasn't the kind of chaos I was used to-the fun, spontaneous kind where everything was unpredictable yet thrilling. No, this was the exhausting kind of chaos, where every moment felt like a battle, and there was no reprieve from the constant tension in the air. We bickered over everything, from how the apartment was organized to the most trivial things like leaving a light on or who finished the last of the milk.
I had never met anyone so stubborn or so determined to make every interaction difficult. Megumi thrived on our arguments, like it was his own personal form of entertainment. I was beginning to realize that living with him was going to be a test of my patience-a test I felt like I was failing miserably.
Every morning started the same. I'd wake up early to make breakfast, hoping for a peaceful start to the day. But without fail, Megumi would stumble into the kitchen with his usual disinterested look, and our routine clash would begin.
"You're blocking the fridge," he'd grumble as I stood there scrambling eggs.
"Well, excuse me for making breakfast!" I'd snap back, stepping aside with a dramatic flair. "Maybe if you didn't lumber around like a zombie, you'd find your way to the coffee without bumping into me."
"It's not my fault you're always in the way," he'd mutter, reaching for the coffee pot and ignoring my glare.
"In the way? I'm just trying to exist here!" I'd shoot back, shaking my head in disbelief. "It's like you can't handle the fact that I'm living in the same space as you."
"Maybe I can't," he'd say with a shrug, pouring himself a cup of coffee without so much as a glance in my direction.
And that was our morning. Every single day. By the time I finished breakfast, I was already exhausted from the tension between us.
But it didn't end there. The rest of the day was filled with similar arguments, each one more ridiculous than the last. If I left a dish in the sink for more than five minutes, Megumi would comment on how "disorganized" I was. If he played his music too loud, I'd tell him he was inconsiderate of the fact that I needed quiet to focus on my work. It was a never-ending cycle of petty disagreements that neither of us seemed willing to break.
One evening, after yet another argument over something trivial-this time, it was about the temperature of the apartment-I found myself wondering how I had ended up in this situation. When I moved in, I imagined a new chapter of my life, filled with excitement and possibility. I never imagined I'd be trapped in a constant state of conflict with someone who seemed to enjoy making my life difficult.
"Why do you always have to pick fights with me?" I asked one night, throwing myself onto the couch after we'd quarreled over where to store some groceries.
