Hi, I’m Felicity. At 24, I was just trying to navigate life in an overpriced city with my roommate, Ashley. Sharing rent wasn’t just about friendship. It was all about survival. Most people couldn’t afford to live in that area on their own.

So, Ashley and I struck a deal. We also always split things down the middle, and for a while, it worked out fine. That is until she returned from a two-week vacation and decided the rules no longer applied to her.

Let me explain a bit more about her. Ashley is definitely a “Keeping Up with the Joneses” kind of person. She would rather drown in debt than not have the latest things or go to the trendiest places.

For the most part, I didn’t care. It was her life. As long as her part of the rent came on time, her choices didn’t matter to me. But one time, her friends, most of whom had wealthy parents, invited her on a vacation.

They went to a beach resort and enjoyed all the luxuries they wanted. I saw the proof on Instagram. In my experience, rich people expect others to be rich too. You would think they’d treat their friends, but that’s not always true.

Also, Ashley was paying for herself and had too much pride to say she couldn’t afford stuff. That’s one of her many issues. But again, it was her life. These choices didn’t affect me until she returned from the trip.

As soon as she left her luggage in her room, she came to the living room and bombarded me with stories about the dishes they ate, the places they saw, the men they flirted with, and the shopping they did. I nodded along as best as I could before she went to sleep.

But the following morning, while drinking coffee, she dropped a bomb on me.

“You know,” she said, biting her bottom lip, “since I wasn’t here for two weeks, I think it’s fair if you refund me for half of my rent for this month.”

At first, I cackled. “Good one, Ashley. You almost got me there,” I wheezed out.

But she didn’t laugh back. Instead, she gave me one of those “I’m serious” looks she usually reserves for when Starbucks messes up her caramel drizzle ratio.

“Think about it, Felicity. I wasn’t here, so I wasn’t using the apartment or the utilities. Why should I pay for something I didn’t use?” she asked and smiled as if her logic was bulletproof.

I blinked. “What are you even talking about? This isn’t like, a hotel where you only pay for the nights you stay. Rent doesn’t work that way. Also, you left your stuff here.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. I wasn’t here, and you had the apartment to yourself. So, a refund is more than fair.”

She kept going, and each word out of her mouth sounded more entitled than the previous one. I knew why she was doing this. It wasn’t because she actually thought her argument made sense. It was because her credit cards were likely all maxed out after that ridiculous trip.

She needed help, and this was her prideful way of trying to get it. I’m sorry, but I was not responsible for her poor financial choices, so I refused and went to my room to change for work.

But I should’ve known Ashley wasn’t done.

Over the next few days, she decided to launch what I now refer to as the Great Post-it Campaign. Everywhere I turned, little neon notes reminded me of what I “owed” her.

“Rent Refund: $450,” one stuck to the fridge said. “Fair is fair!” another chirped from the bathroom mirror, and her snark didn’t stop there.

She’d dramatically huff whenever we passed in the hall, muttering things like, “Some people have no integrity,” or, “Must be nice to pay half the rent and live alone.”

When those hints didn’t work, she started slamming doors and plates, making more noise than usual. All to get me to break. But I wasn’t going to, though she had me wondering if it might be time to move in with someone else.

Anyway, Saturday came, and I thought I’d have to be locked up in my room to avoid more of her antics. But Ashley came out of her room, dressed to the nines, and left for the afternoon. She was definitely going to see her rich friends.

And the moment the door closed behind her, inspiration struck. If Ashley wanted to play games, I’d show her how it’s done.

I grabbed my phone and called Lila, my best friend since high school. She didn’t live in the city but was a two-hour train ride away.

“Hey, what are you up to?” I asked.

“Not much, just plotting world domination. Why?” she quipped.

“Well, you might love this. Do you want to stay in the city for a few days? I’ve got a great and cheap room you can use,” I started, giggling, and when prodded, I explained my real intentions.

Lila laughed and was on board before I even finished.

“This is genius!” she said. “See you in two hours!” I just hoped Ashley wouldn’t return early.

I was lucky. Lila arrived, and there was still no sign of Ashley, so we went to work with my… I guess you could call it petty revenge.

We boxed up Ashley’s stuff and placed them in my living room. Then, we set up Lila’s “new” living situation. We brought in her suitcase, threw a throw blanket over the bed, and even added a “Welcome, Lila!” note on the dresser.

It was like we were playing Airbnb. When we were done, we settled and waited for Ashley to get home.

She arrived late that night, loudly jangling her keys as she closed our door and called out, “Felicity, we need to talk!”

“Oh, hey!” I called back from the couch, trying to sound casual. “Listen, I found a new solution for our little issue.”

There was a pause, then a confused, “What?”

I stood from the couch and explained things, all matter-of-factly. “Well, I’ve finally understood the logic about your room.”

“Finally! I knew you wou—”

But I interrupted her before she could go on. “I’ve also noticed that sometimes, particularly during the weekends, you leave our house for the entire day and even the entire night. So, starting today and until Tuesday night, I invited someone to stay in your room.”

Her eyes widened. “What?” she asked, looking around. Her eyes zeroed in on the boxes. A second later, her heels were clicking rapidly on the floor as she stormed to her room, where Lila was casually lying on the bed.

My friend waved happily.

“Who the hell is this?” Ashley demanded. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Hi!” Lila said brightly. “I’m Lila. Thanks for letting me ‘rent’ this place! It’s nice to come to the city every once in a while without spending so much.”

Ashley spun toward me, her voice climbing to a pitch only dogs could hear. “What is this?!” she screeched.

“I told you already,” I said innocently. “You don’t use your room on the weekends, so I’ll be renting it out from now on. This is the perfect compromise now that you’ve established the ground rules about rent and usage.”

Ashley’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. “That’s not — I didn’t say — You can’t do this!” she shrieked some more.

“Why not?” I asked, crossing my arms. “I’m using your logic. I can’t afford this place without your share, so I have to find temporary roommates for the days you’ll be away to comply with your logic.”

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT! THIS IS DIFFERENT!” she insisted, stomping her foot.

“Is it, though?” Lila chimed in, plopping onto the bed. “Feels the same to me.”

I pulled a $100 bill out of my pocket. “And look, Lila has already paid for her entire stay. I calculated it correctly. Well, I rounded it up a bit. I won’t refund you for the two weeks you were away on vacation because we hadn’t talked about ‘the ground rules,’ but we won’t have an issue from now on.”

The money was really mine, but Ashley didn’t need to know that. She stared at the bill in silence while her face turned redder and redder. After a second, she took it right out of my hand and turned away.

“I’m calling the landlord,” she snapped on her way out the door.

Lila and I flew into a fit of giggles when she was gone. That scene was more than worth the $100 I’d just lost.

Obviously, Ashley didn’t call the landlord. Instead, she sulked and was in and out of the apartment for the rest of the weekend while Lila enjoyed her “staycation.”

Lila left that Tuesday night, and Ashley returned fully. She put her things back inside her room, and later, I noticed a lock on her door. She ignored me mostly, but the huffing and puffing was gone. The Post-Its didn’t return, and the noise disappeared.

Also, there were no more discussions about a refund, and the next month’s rent came right on time. But I saw that she barely bought groceries for herself and was home most of the time.

I wasn’t a monster, so I cooked double the amount I needed for dinner and offered her some every night. She would mutter her thanks.

Slowly, things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be with Ashley. She hadn’t changed. She was just maxed out, and no one was bailing her out of her poor choices.

It wasn’t long before I started looking for a new job. The city was nice, but it was insane that I couldn’t afford to live alone. When I got an offer in Lila’s town, I jumped at the chance.

But I’ll always remember the time I out-pettied the pettiest person I knew. It’s a good story to tell at parties.