Got it. We'll escalate, not explode.
This will be a controlled repetition—different setting, same wrong timing—and Jasmine will start clocking the pattern before Hidayah fully admits it to herself.
I'll treat this as the next chapter, clean and canon-consistent.
Chapter 21 — Patterns
The second coincidence happened three days later.
Hidayah would remember that detail very clearly afterward—how it wasn't immediate, how it waited just long enough for her guard to lower again.
Wednesday.
Silat day.
She exited the sports hall later than usual, hair still damp from a rushed shower, uniform bag slung over one shoulder. The evening air was cooler, the sky already darkening. Groups of students clustered near the entrance—laughing, stretching, checking phones.
Jasmine was waiting near the bench as usual, choir bag at her feet.
"You took longer today," Jasmine said.
"New drills," Hidayah replied, rolling her shoulders. "Coach extended training."
They started walking together toward the main path, falling into their familiar rhythm—complaints about sore muscles, jokes about facilitators, plans for dinner.
That was when Jasmine slowed.
"Hidayah."
Something in her tone made Hidayah stop too.
Michael stood near the vending machines ahead.
Not blocking their path. Not looking directly at them. He was buying a drink.
The setting was different.
The timing wasn't.
Hidayah felt the now-familiar tightening under her ribs.
She hadn't told Jasmine his name.
But Jasmine's grip on her sleeve said everything.
"He's… that guy, isn't he?" Jasmine murmured.
Hidayah didn't answer immediately.
Michael glanced up—just once.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flickered over his expression in a controlled manner.
"Oh. Hi again," he said, polite as ever. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Hidayah kept her voice neutral. "Training."
"Right," he nodded. "Makes sense."
He stepped aside after collecting his drink, leaving the path clear.
Again—no pressure.
No intrusion.
Just presence.
"Have a good evening ahead," he added.
"You too," Jasmine replied automatically, before she could stop herself.
They walked past him.
Only when they were well out of earshot did Jasmine speak.
"…Okay," she said slowly. "Now, I'm uncomfortable."
Hidayah exhaled. "You see it too?"
Jasmine nodded. "Different place. Same timing. That's not random."
"I didn't want to overthink it," Hidayah admitted. "The first time could've been a coincidence."
"The second time could be deliberate," Jasmine stated flatly.
Hidayah almost smiled—if she didn't feel so cold inside.
Michael watched them leave, eyes following until the crowd swallowed them.
Good. Now, Jasmine is also aware.
Awareness created fractures.
They reached the bus stop together, the familiar shelter lit by yellow-white lights. A small group waited there already.
Jasmine didn't sit.
She stayed standing, scanning the area with a focus that hadn't been there before.
"You noticed how he never asks questions?" she said quietly. "Not where you're going. Not what you're doing next."
Hidayah nodded. "I noticed."
"And he always appears before you check your phone," Jasmine added. "Like he already knew your timing."
That made Hidayah's pulse jump.
"I don't post my schedule," she said.
"I know."
They fell silent as the bus approached.
When they boarded, Jasmine deliberately chose seats near other students instead of their usual corner.
Hidayah didn't argue.
That night, Hidayah lay awake longer than she liked.
Her mind replayed the encounters—not the words, but the gaps between them. The restraint. The precision.
She wasn't afraid yet.
But she was alert.
And deep down, something old stirred—a warning from her first life, resurfacing not as memory, but as instinct.
When someone studies you quietly, they're not deciding whether to act.
They're deciding when.
Across town, Michael wrote notes into his phone.
Not names.
Not times.
Just patterns.
She walked with her friend on Wednesdays.
She left training late.
She noticed now.
That was fine. The next coincidence would be smaller.
Closer.
And Jasmine?
Michael smiled faintly.
Observers could be managed.