---
Wednesday mornings always carried a strange calm on campus — the kind that felt stretched too thin, like the air before a storm.
The sky was still pale when Amara woke up, the weak light spilling across the tiled floor of her hostel room.
Ngozi was still asleep, her breathing slow, tangled in her bedsheet like a tired child.
Again, the usually early riser hadn't beaten Amara to it.
Amara sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.
Her body felt heavy, her mind distant — though she couldn't place why.
Her wrist ached faintly.
When she lifted her sleeve, the glow was faint, but there — a soft shimmer, pulsing just once before fading into stillness.
She stared at it until the air felt too quiet, too heavy with thoughts she couldn't name.
She pushed her sleeve down and stood, shaking it off.
There was no reason to feel this way.
None at all.
---
By the time she left for her 8 a.m. lecture, the air outside was warm and bright.
The chatter of students walking past filled the courtyard — groups laughing, girls adjusting their hair, boys running last-minute to class.
It was a normal day.
Except, her mind wouldn't stop replaying yesterday.
The spill.
The guy's calm voice. "You owe me one."
The way he'd smiled before walking off, not angry, just — amused.
And then Kael.
For a brief moment after the spill, she'd looked up and seen him.
He had been standing not too far away, his expression unreadable.
Their eyes had met only for a second before he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Since then, she hadn't seen him.
Not in class.
Not anywhere.
Maybe it was for the best.
---
The lecture was long, and the lecturer's voice had the consistency of dry sandpaper.
Amara tried to focus, but the words blurred together.
By the time the clock ticked toward noon, her notebook was filled with doodles and short phrases she couldn't remember writing.
She sighed, closing it.
Ngozi wasn't in the same class, but she'd promised they'd meet up for lunch.
Her phone buzzed in her bag.
Mum flashed across the screen.
Amara froze. Her mother rarely called — texts were more her thing, short and efficient, always ending with "Hope you're fine."
She picked up.
"Hello?"
"Amara." Her mother's voice was smooth but clipped. "I've been trying to reach you since Sunday."
Amara blinked. "Oh… sorry. I was—uh—busy. How are you?"
"I'm fine. Your father traveled yesterday, and I thought I should check in on you. How's school?"
"It's okay," Amara said.
A pause followed — not an awkward one, just… empty.
The kind that made you realize how far away someone truly was.
Her mother cleared her throat. "You sound tired."
"I guess I didn't sleep much."
"You should rest, Amara. Don't overwork yourself. You know your body doesn't handle stress well."
The words were familiar, automatic — care wrapped in distance.
"I will."
Another pause. Her mother sighed softly.
"I'll send some money to your account. Try to eat properly. And—Amara?"
"Yes, Mum?"
"Stay away from distractions."
Her heart stuttered. "Distractions?"
"Friends, relationships, whatever. You know why you're there."
Her mother's tone wasn't harsh, but it landed like cold rain.
"I know," Amara whispered. "I'll focus."
"Good. Take care of yourself."
The line clicked dead.
Amara sat there for a moment, staring at the phone.
Her fingers felt numb.
The word distractions echoed in her head like an accusation.
She locked her phone, tucked it into her bag, and stood.
---
The cafeteria was noisy when she got there — laughter bouncing off walls, the air heavy with the smell of fried rice and plantain.
Ngozi was waving from a table near the window, a spoon already halfway to her mouth.
"Finally!" Ngozi called out. "I thought you'd vanished."
Amara smiled weakly as she approached. "Lecturer wouldn't stop talking."
Zainab and Tolu were there too, both mid-conversation, arguing about whose department had the most unserious guys.
"You'd think the Faculty of Law would be all books and seriousness," Tolu said dramatically, gesturing with her fork.
"But nooo, y'all throw the best parties!"
Ngozi laughed. "We balance our stress with enjoyment, please. Not everyone wants to die in the library."
Amara chuckled faintly and excused herself to get food.
She stood in line, zoning out again — until her shoulder brushed against someone's arm.
"Oh—sorry!" she said quickly, stepping back.
The boy turned, and her heart stumbled a little.
It was him.
Coffee guy.
He blinked in surprise, then smiled — that same calm, unreadable expression.
"We have to stop meeting like this."
Amara's mouth opened, but words fumbled on her tongue. "I—I didn't see you there."
"Clearly." His tone was teasing, not unkind. He looked down at her tray, then at her face.
"You look like you haven't slept."
"I—what?"
He shrugged. "Just an observation."
Before she could respond, the server called her order.
She stepped forward, flustered, reaching for her change.
The boy handed her a napkin that had fallen from her tray.
"You dropped this. Don't worry—no coffee this time."
She managed a laugh. "Thanks. And… sorry, again."
"Guess you owe me two now."
He said it casually, but there was something about his tone — quiet, almost knowing — that made her stomach flutter.
Then he was gone, just like that, blending into the crowd.
---
When she returned to the table, Ngozi was staring at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Who was that?"
Amara blinked. "Who?"
Ngozi gave her the don't-play-dumb look. "That fine boy you were talking to just now. Don't tell me you didn't notice him."
"I barely know him," Amara said quickly, sitting down. "He's… no one."
Zainab leaned in, grinning. "No one doesn't look at you like that, Amara."
Amara's face flushed. "He was just being polite."
Ngozi hummed, not convinced. "Sure. Just like Kael was just helping you that day in the hallway, right?"
The words hit harder than Ngozi intended.
Amara's spoon paused midair.
"Why are you bringing that up?" she asked softly.
Ngozi blinked, caught off guard. "I was joking—relax."
But Amara's heart had already tightened.
She smiled faintly, forcing it. "Yeah, I know. You joke too much."
Zainab nudged Tolu, whispering, "Tension!"
Ngozi rolled her eyes. "Abeg, eat your food."
The conversation drifted to lighter things — weekend plans, hostel drama, the price of garri skyrocketing again.
Amara laughed when she had to, spoke when expected, but her mind felt foggy.
Every time she glanced toward the cafeteria door, she half expected to see Kael.
But he never came.
---
Across campus, Kael stood beneath the shade of a tree overlooking the cafeteria walkway.
His hands were tucked in his pockets, his expression still but his eyes — cold fire.
He hadn't meant to end up there.
He had been walking toward the library when he'd seen her.
Amara.
And that same boy — the one from yesterday.
From where he stood, Kael had seen everything:
The slight bump, the quiet laughter, the way her eyes softened when the guy spoke.
It wasn't jealousy that burned in his chest — not exactly.
It was something deeper, older.
A thread tugging at his chest, the mark beneath his skin glowing faintly, reacting before he could stop it.
He pressed a hand to his wrist, hissing quietly.
The light faded, but the ache remained.
"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered to himself.
He had told himself to stay away.
To not interfere.
He had promised that this time — this life — he would keep his distance until she remembered.
But seeing her smile at someone else… it stirred something feral and human inside him, something that whispered she was slipping away again.
---
The first time he had met her — truly met her — wasn't in this world.
It had been another time, another place, and she hadn't known his name then either.
But she had smiled at him the same way.
And that smile had been his undoing.
He could still remember the sound of her voice — soft, curious, fearless.
The way she had reached for him before everything fell apart.
Kael blinked the memory away.
It was dangerous to linger there.
He exhaled sharply, leaning against the wall.
He had thought the mark was dormant — that when he found her again, he'd have control.
But now… it reacted on its own, every time she was near, every time her emotions wavered.
And today, when that boy had spoken to her, the mark had pulsed hard enough to sting.
He didn't know if it was jealousy or warning.
---
Back in the cafeteria, Amara laughed at something Zainab said, but her chest still felt tight.
Her phone buzzed again — a text from her mom.
"Remember what I said. Focus."
She locked the screen immediately.
Ngozi leaned close, lowering her voice. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Amara said softly. "Just tired."
But when she looked up, for the briefest moment — through the window — she thought she saw someone watching from across the courtyard.
Tall. Familiar. Still.
She blinked, but the spot was empty.
Still, her wrist tingled faintly beneath her sleeve.
---
Outside, Kael turned and walked away before she could spot him again.
He didn't look back.
But the glow beneath his skin lingered, whispering a truth he didn't want to accept —
That fate was moving again.
And this time,
he wasn't ready for it.