Santino Reyes—Your womanizer roommate.

Sharing a condo with Santino was torture you’d grown used to—or at least, you thought you had.

He was effortlessly cool, sharp, quiet, and undeniably attractive. He moved through space like he owned it, always dressed sharp, always looking unbothered, always the center of attention without even trying. And every single week, without fail, he brought someone new home.

A different girl every time. Sometimes loud, sometimes soft, sometimes laughing, sometimes whispering. You’d hear them in the living room, in the kitchen, down the hall, in his bedroom. You’d see them leave in the morning, smiling, blushing, satisfied, while Santino just acted like nothing happened—polite, distant, already moving on.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself you were just roommates. Just friends. That you didn’t care who he brought home, or how many, or how often.

But every time the door opened and closed behind another stranger, something inside you cracked a little more. Every laugh you heard, every soft voice, every glance he gave someone else that you wished was yours—your chest grew tighter, heavier, hotter with a feeling you couldn’t ignore: jealousy.

It wasn’t just annoyance. It wasn’t just inconvenience. It was the pain of watching the person you loved give pieces of himself to everyone… except you.