Michael noticed her this time.
Not because they collided.
Not because anyone laughed or made a fuss.
He noticed her because she was laughing.
Thursday evenings at Republic Polytechnic carried a different kind of energy.
Classes had ended, interest group trainings were winding down, and the campus no longer felt rushed. Students drifted instead of hurried, conversations stretching longer, footsteps slower as daylight softened into dusk.
The canteen at W6 was crowded.
Fans spun lazily overhead, barely cutting through the warmth. Voices overlapped in bursts of laughter, complaints about assignments, plans for the weekend.
Hidayah stood near one of the food stalls, hair tied up neatly, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her backpack rested against her leg as she waited for her order.
She was laughing.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't performative.
Just a brief, unguarded sound as one of her Silat friends exaggerated a story about nearly slipping during footwork drills.
She covered her mouth instinctively, eyes crinkling.
And that was when Michael stopped walking.
He had just finished rugby conditioning.
His sleeveless jersey clung to his back, skin damp with sweat, muscles pleasantly sore from training. His teammates crowded around him, arguing about dinner like they always did.
"Chicken rice again ah?"
"Eh, you boring sia—"
Michael's attention drifted.
And landed on her.
She wasn't dressed to stand out.
Jeans. A simple t-shirt. Sneakers worn from regular use. Nothing flashy. Nothing deliberate.
But there was an ease about her.
The way she shifted her weight without thinking. The way she listened fully when someone spoke. The way her laughter faded into a soft smile instead of hanging awkwardly in the air.
He frowned slightly.
He had seen her before.
A girl on the bridge.
Steady hands. Calm eyes. No apology beyond what was necessary. No lingering glance.
This was her.
"Oi, Michael."
One of his friends waved a hand in front of his face. "You okay or not?"
"What?" Michael blinked.
"You staring at someone ah?" another teased.
Michael hesitated.
His gaze flicked back to her, just in time to see her step aside to let another student order, movement smooth, instinctive.
"No," he said eventually.
But the word felt wrong.
Hidayah didn't notice him at first.
She was focused on counting coins, remembering who wanted extra chilli, deciding between iced barley or just water. Ordinary decisions. Normal thoughts.
Then she felt it.
That faint awareness.
Someone looking.
She turned.
Their eyes met.
Just for a moment.
Michael didn't smile.
He didn't look away either.
Curiosity sat plainly on his face, unmasked by bravado or jokes.
And in that single second, something settled quietly in Hidayah's chest.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Recognition.
So this is how it starts, she thought.
Not fate.
Not fireworks.
Just attention.
She broke eye contact first.
Not because she couldn't hold it. But because she didn't need to.
She turned back to her friends, accepted her food, conversation resuming easily around her.
To Michael, it looked like dismissal.
To Hidayah, it was control.
Dinner passed smoothly.
They talked about training, sore muscles, upcoming quizzes. Someone suggested Causeway Point again next week. Someone else complained about the bus queues.
Laughter rose and fell, comfortable and unforced.
Michael faded to the edge of her awareness.
Not as a presence.
As a reminder.
Later, as they walked toward the MRT station, one of her Silat friends nudged her lightly.
"Eh, that rugby guy kept glancing your way just now."
Hidayah shrugged.
"Maybe he was bored."
She meant it.
Behind her, Michael lingered near the canteen entrance with his friends.
He watched her leave.
Not chasing.
Not calling out.
Just… thinking.
He couldn't explain the feeling.
Only that it felt like he had noticed something important.
And arrived too late to name it.
Hidayah stepped onto the pavement, evening air cooling her skin.
Her phone buzzed.
Jasmine: I just reached home! You on the way already?
Hidayah smiled faintly as she typed back.
Hidayah: Yup. See you tomorrow.
Tomorrow was Friday.
Archery.
Familiar faces.
Safe spaces.
She walked on, steady and unhurried.
Behind her, the campus lights flickered on.
And the second ripple faded quietly into the night.