The bridge leading up to the sports hall was busier than usual.
After-school activities had ended in staggered waves, and students flowed across it in uneven streams — some lingering, some rushing, some laughing as if the day had barely touched them.
Hidayah walked alone.
Her laptop backpack sat snug against her shoulders, familiar weight grounding her steps. Slung carefully across her back was her bow case, secured the way she always carried it.
Her mind was still half in training.
The release.
The follow-through.
The quiet hum of tension leaving her body as the arrow flew.
She adjusted her grip unconsciously as she walked.
And then—
Impact.
Not hard.
But careless.
A shoulder brushing into hers from the side.
She staggered half a step forward, instinct kicking in before surprise could settle.
"—Hey, sorry—"
The voice came from behind her.
She caught herself easily, turning as she steadied her footing.
"It's okay," she said automatically.
The boy who had bumped into her had been walking backwards, laughing with his friends as they exited the sports hall. He stopped now, grin still on his face, hands lifted in a half-apology.
He was wearing a rugby jersey.
Dark colours.
Broad shoulders.
Sweat still clinging faintly to the fabric.
"Didn't see you there," he said. "You alright?"
Their eyes met.
And the world narrowed.
Not dramatically.
Not violently.
Just… sharply.
Like a sound that cut through background noise.
Hidayah's breath hitched for a fraction of a second.
No.
Her mind rejected the reaction immediately.
She didn't know him yet.
She shouldn't know him.
He was just another student.
Just another face.
"I'm fine," she replied, voice steady.
He studied her for a brief moment longer than necessary, something curious flickering across his expression before he smiled again.
"Great!," he said. "Sorry about that."
One of his friends snorted. "Oi, stop flirting and move."
He laughed, shaking his head. "I wasn't."
Hidayah didn't respond.
Didn't smile.
Didn't linger.
She inclined her head once and continued walking.
Behind her, the laughter resumed.
The sound followed her for a few steps.
Then faded.
She didn't slow until she reached the entrance of the sports hall.
Her fingers tightened briefly around the strap of her bow case.
Her heart was beating faster than it should have been.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Recognition.
And with it—
Memories.
Unwanted.
Uninvited.
Valentine's Day.
Red flowers crowding the table.
A ring slipped onto her finger while cameras flashed.
People smiling.
Clapping.
Telling her how lucky she was.
"You're perfect together," someone had said.
She had believed it.
A shared apartment.
Late nights.
Her laptop glowing while she worked, his back turned as he scrolled endlessly through his phone.
"You're too sensitive," he had told her once, not looking up.
She had apologised.
Jasmine laughing beside her.
A baby cradled in her arms.
"You'll be the godmother," Jasmine had said, eyes bright.
Hidayah had cried that night from happiness.
A hospital room.
White walls.
The constant, rhythmic beeping of machines.
Her body heavy.
Unresponsive.
But her mind—
Fully awake.
She remembered the sound of footsteps leaving.
The nurse closing the door.
And then his voice.
Casual.
Unburdened.
"She was never supposed to know," Michael had said softly.
"Jacintha is mine. Jasmine and I… it started way before."
The words had sliced cleanly through her.
She remembered the ceiling blurring as tears slid silently into her ears.
She remembered dying like that.
Alone.
Hidayah pressed her lips together.
The memory dissolved as quickly as it had come, leaving behind something cold and sharp.
This was not that life.
She was seventeen.
Healthy.
Standing.
Breathing.
She stepped into the sports hall.
Training resumed.
Targets reset.
Arrows retrieved.
Instructions given.
The world returned to its proper rhythm.
Arnold glanced at her from the line beside her.
"You good?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," she said.
And this time, it was true.
She lifted her bow.
Nocked an arrow.
Breathed.
The moment stretched.
Stillness settled.
Release.
The arrow struck cleanly.
Right where she wanted it.
Arnold let out a low whistle. "Okay. That one had feelings."
Hidayah exhaled slowly.
Whatever that encounter had been—
It had no power here.
As the session ended and people began packing up, she caught sight of him again near the far exit.
The rugby jersey stood out easily among the crowd.
Michael laughed at something his friend said, carefree, unaware.
She looked away.
This was not fate.
This was proximity.
And she would not confuse the two again.
Outside, evening had cooled the air.
The bus stop lights glowed softly.
Jasmine waved when she saw her.
Arnold followed a moment later.
Bus 169 arrived right on time.
They boarded.
Doors closed.
Engine hummed.
As the bus pulled away, Hidayah rested her head lightly against the window.
That moment on the bridge.
In her first life, it would have meant everything.
This time—
It meant nothing at all.
And that, more than anything else, felt like freedom.