My suitcase, filled with precious and expensive birthday gifts, was mistakenly claimed by another person at the airport. When I opened the one left behind, I found it packed with men’s clothes instead of my belongings.

Determined to retrieve what was rightfully mine, I went on a frantic search for the man who had taken my suitcase. When I finally confronted him and politely asked for an exchange, he responded with the gentlest of tones:

“Oh, I opened it and realized I’d made a mistake—it’s all women’s items.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, ready to thank him and express my gratitude.

Then he added casually, “I couldn’t use any of those things, so I sorted them out and gave them to my girlfriend. You’re welcome.”

My jaw dropped. I could barely muster a response as I muttered under my breath, “What the hell?”

After realizing I had taken the wrong suitcase, I received a reply from the airline stating that no compensation would be provided. Their reasoning? The airline's backend system confirmed the number of checked luggage matched perfectly—there were no missing items.

I had waited two weeks for this response. How infuriating! As if I wouldn't know whether I had taken the wrong bag.

Right after class, I rushed to the airport to request access to the surveillance footage from the baggage claim area.

The video clearly showed that I had indeed taken my own suitcase. Yet, the contents inside weren't mine.

What on earth was happening?

I scrutinized the footage several times until the truth became evident. I pointed at the screen and argued, "That man took my suitcase! While the two suitcases are similar in size and appearance, mine has a sticker on the left side."

Seeing this detail gave me some relief. However, another troubling thought surfaced.

It had been two weeks! Had this man not opened the suitcase even once? How could he not have realized it wasn't his? Or was he deliberately taking advantage of the situation after seeing what was inside my luggage?

I demanded the airline provide me with the man's contact information, but they refused on the grounds of passenger privacy.

"I'm very sorry, but we cannot disclose the passenger's information directly. We'll contact him on your behalf and follow up. Please wait a moment," the airline representative explained.

I forced myself to remain calm.

After a while, the representative returned with more bad news. "The passenger didn't answer his phone. We'll continue to follow up, but for now, please go back and wait for updates."

I was livid. Waiting hadn't worked for two weeks—why would it suddenly work now? That's why I went to the airport in person!

I took another close look at the surveillance footage and noticed a clue on the man's coat. Emblazoned on the chest were the words "Acadia University."

After all the hassle and frustration, I realized he went to the same campus as me!? A small bit of tension lifted from my anxious heart.

I pulled out my phone and contacted the campus forum moderator. Carefully, I typed out the entire incident and attached a video footage. Given that we were university mates, I did not want to cause too much trouble. Hence, I blurred out the man's face in the video, hoping that he would take the initiative to contact me after seeing it.

The moderator replied cheekily: [Hmm, is this like one of those idol dramas where the hero and heroine accidentally swap belongings? Maybe I'll be your matchmaker!]

Annoyed, I shot back: [This is an ill-fated match! What kind of "hero" keeps someone else's suitcase for two weeks without saying a word? He didn't even answer the airline's calls. A hero? He's blind and deaf!]

The moderator seemed startled by my anger and responded quickly: [Okay, okay! I didn't mean it like that. I'll post it immediately.]

Trying to stay composed, I returned to campus.

By nightfall, no one had contacted me. Desperate for clues, I scoured the forum comments.

One message caught my attention: [OP, that shirt is from the Department of Economics and Management. Maybe check with their campus counselor.]

It was like finding a lifeboat in a storm. I contacted Sheila Cohen, the department's counselor, and explained everything in detail.

She confirmed there was a student from that department who had recently returned from an internship program on the same flight: Elliot Carr.

I pushed Sheila for more information and finally managed to get Elliot's social media account.

I sent him a friend request in the morning, but it wasn't until late evening that I received a reply.

[Sorry, just saw your message. I was a little busy.]

'Too busy to unpack your suitcase for two weeks?' I thought, biting back my frustration.

Skipping pleasantries, I got straight to the point.

[Hi, Mr. Elliot Carr. Two weeks ago, you mistakenly took my suitcase at the airport. The campus counselor should have given you the details. When would it be convenient for us to exchange our suitcases?]

I stared at the screen, waiting. Minutes turned into an hour before I finally received a reply.

What he wrote left me utterly dumbfounded.

[Maybe next time. I don't need those clothes urgently yet. I'll leave them with you for now.]

The audacity of this man! It might not be urgent for him, but it certainly was for me!

My temples throbbed with frustration. I couldn't sit idly by any longer. Without hesitation, I made a voice call to him.

If he wouldn't answer the first time, fine. I'd call again. And again. I wouldn't stop until he picked up.

Noticing my rising frustration, my roommate suggested, "If he's not answering, try finding his mobile number and calling that. Didn't you mention he's doing an internship? He wouldn't dare ignore a call on his work phone."

Oh, right. I had been so blinded by anxiety that I hadn't thought of this earlier.

Using the basic information I had on Elliot, I searched a recruitment website. Before long, his resume—with his personal phone number—appeared on my screen. I dialed the number immediately.

"Beep... beep…"

After just two rings, he picked up. "Hello, this is Elliot Carr. Who's speaking?"

I couldn't help but sneer at the hint of expectation in his tone.

"This is Luna Russell," I said coldly. "I've been trying to reach you. I'm heading to your dormitory now. Be ready to hand over my suitcase."

For a moment, there was stunned silence on the other end, clearly not expecting me to call directly. When he finally spoke, his tone was surprisingly calm.

"I opened the suitcase today and realized it wasn't mine. It's filled with women's items."

I let out a sigh of relief, thinking, 'At least he's admitting it.' I was ready to fight.

Then he continued, "I can't use any of it, so I sorted through the contents and gave them to my girlfriend. You're welcome."

His words hit me like a slap. My heart raced with fury. "Those are my belongings!" I yelled. "Who gave you the right to 'sort through' them?"

Elliot, unfazed, replied in an infuriatingly calm voice, "Look, it was a mistake. The suitcases are identical. You can keep my things and do whatever you want with them. I don't need them anymore. Besides, my clothes are all luxury brands—easily worth a few hundred dollars each. I'd say we're even. Oh, and don't call me again. My girlfriend gets jealous."

Before I could respond, he hung up.

I immediately redialed, but the line was engaged. He had blocked me.

In those few minutes on the phone, I felt as though I'd witnessed the full spectrum of human shamelessness. My anger surged like a tidal wave. Taking a deep breath, I reached out to Sheila Cohen, Elliot's campus counselor, once more.

"This is what happened," I explained. "I hope you can help me retrieve my belongings from him. After all, we're fellow students. I just want my things back and don't want to cause unnecessary trouble."

Sheila listened patiently, then surprised me with her response.

"Actually, Elliot's suggestion seems reasonable. Since your suitcases are identical, the loss isn't that significant. And he's already said he doesn't need his clothes. Considering you're both students, the value of your lost items should balance out."

I couldn't believe my ears. "You're saying I should just let this go?"

"Yes," she replied. "Sometimes it's best to take a step back. Let bygones be bygones."

Her words were so absurd that I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "So, your idea of resolving disputes is to compromise principles? You shouldn't be a counselor!"

Sheila gasped. "Is that how you talk to a counselor?"

Ignoring her indignation, I ended the call. I had tried being patient, but since neither of them cared to resolve this properly, I'd handle it my way.

The next day, Elliot and Sheila were summoned to the principal's office. Their eyes shot daggers at me the moment they saw me sitting there calmly.

The principal, Jonathan Murphy, cut straight to the point. "Now that everyone is here, let's cut the long story short."

My lawyer explained the situation.

As the details unfolded, the principal's expression darkened from confusion to shock. Finally, a gloomy, sullen expression came over him.

Elliot, visibly nervous, clenched and unclenched his fists. I couldn't help but smirk inwardly. 'Finally, you understand the meaning of consequences.'

"The value of the items involved could reach hundreds of thousands of dollars," my lawyer concluded.

Elliot shot to his feet, his face pale. "That's impossible! Even with the clothes, bracelets, and cameras, it couldn't be worth that much!" He clamped a hand over his mouth, realizing too late he'd confessed to opening my suitcase.

I raised my voice. "So you admit you opened my suitcase and knew what was inside?"

My lawyer leaned forward. "Mr. Carr, care to explain yourself further?"

Elliot panicked, crawling over to Sheila. "Ms. Sheila, help me! Please, help me beg for mercy!" He clung to her leg like a drowning man clutching a lifeline.

As he shook her, a gold bracelet on her wrist caught my eye. My heart sank.

Grabbing her hand, I demanded, "Didn't Elliot say he gave everything to his girlfriend? Why is this bracelet on your wrist?"

Sheila yanked her hand away, flustered. "Luna, stop making baseless accusations! I understand you're upset, but you can't just claim anything as yours!"

I was so enraged my vision blurred. My lawyer quickly steadied me when he saw me hyperventilating, helping me sit down.

Suddenly, Elliot sneered. "You keep saying your suitcase contained valuable items. Where's your proof? You can't just make up a number and expect me to pay! Principal, she's blackmailing me!"

I was so angry that I almost threw the bag in my hand at him. If this was not the principal's office, I would have given him a good beating.

Sheila chimed in, "That's right. Without evidence, her claims are baseless. Sir, you must stand up for us."

Before I could respond, Jonathan finally spoke. His tone was icy. "This is a simple matter between students. We're all adults here, so let's resolve it amicably. Elliot, return Luna's suitcase and compensate her three thousand dollars. This ends here."