Tuesday morning felt different. Not because anything dramatic had happened. But because Hidayah woke up knowing something she hadn't known the day before.
She could do this again.
The alarm rang at the same time as Monday.
6:30 a.m.
The sound cut cleanly through her thoughts, and she reached out without hesitation, turning it off before it could ring twice.
Her body moved before her mind fully caught up.
Wash up.
Tie her hair.
Jeans.
T-shirt.
Simple.
She stood in front of the mirror for a moment longer than necessary, studying her reflection.
Seventeen.
No illness hollowing out her cheeks.
No exhaustion etched permanently into her eyes.
Just a girl on her second day of polytechnic.
Downstairs, the house was already awake.
The familiar scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen. Her father stood near the door, keys in hand, as if he had been waiting for her.
"Same timing," he said, matter-of-fact.
Hidayah nodded. "I'll call Jasmine."
She picked up her BlackBerry Pearl, fingers moving easily over the keypad.
The call connected almost immediately.
"I'm coming down," Jasmine said, voice still slightly groggy.
"Ten minutes," Hidayah replied.
They ended the call without fuss.
Her mother emerged briefly from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
They picked Jasmine up right on schedule.
Jasmine slid into the back seat with a soft sigh, tote bag tucked beside her.
"Day two," she said. "Why am I already tired?"
"Because orientation week lies," Hidayah replied calmly.
Jasmine laughed. "Fair."
The drive to Republic Polytechnic was smooth and familiar.
They didn't talk about the campus.
They already knew it.
Registration.
Briefings.
Walkthroughs.
None of this was new.
At the Republic Polytechnic Centre, the car slowed to a stop.
"Text me after class," her father said.
Hidayah nodded.
She stepped out, adjusting the straps of her laptop backpack. Jasmine followed, waving lightly as the car pulled away.
"E5 today," Hidayah said.
"E6," Jasmine replied. "At least we're still close."
"Meet after school," Hidayah said. "South Library entrance."
"Always."
They split there, each turning toward their own building.
E5 felt sharper than W3.
More structured.
More serious.
Hidayah arrived early again, choosing a seat with a clear view of the room.
Five long tables.
Five chairs to a group.
Facilitator's table at the back, cables coiled neatly beneath it.
She powered on her Alienware Aurora mALX, the familiar hum grounding her.
Today's module flashed across the projected slide.
Financial Accounting.
At exactly 8:30 a.m., Yvonne Lim entered the room.
She moved with precision, heels clicking softly as she headed straight for the facilitator's table. Her laptop connected to the projector without hesitation, slides appearing on the wall in front of them.
"Good morning," she said.
Her gaze was sharp, assessing.
"I'm Yvonne Lim. I'll be taking you for Financial Accounting this semester."
A pause.
"This module scares people," she continued. "So let me be clear."
"This is not about memorising numbers."
A few students straightened.
"It's about understanding relationships."
Hidayah felt something click into place.
This wasn't unfamiliar.
Ms Lim spoke clearly, laying out expectations without softening them.
Participation mattered.
Assumptions mattered.
Clarity mattered.
"This is orientation week," she said. "You are not expected to be good yet."
A ripple of relief moved through the room.
Break 1 came at 9:30 a.m.
The atmosphere loosened slightly.
Students leaned toward one another, voices low, uncertain.
"I thought accounting was just maths," someone whispered.
"Apparently not," another replied.
Hidayah listened more than she spoke.
In her first life, she would have jumped in too quickly.
Corrected too fast.
Led too early.
This time, she waited.
Her phone vibrated.
Jasmine: Accounting today 😭
Hidayah smiled faintly.
Hidayah: You'll survive.
Jasmine: Easy for you to say.
Hidayah set the phone aside.
Ms Lim resumed promptly, walking them through a scenario.
Not to solve.
Just to observe.
What information stood out.
What details were missing.
What questions revealed misunderstanding.
Lunch break arrived before anyone was ready for it.
At 11:30 a.m., the room emptied quickly.
Today, Hidayah chose to eat with her classmates again.
Not because she had to.
But because she wanted to.
They headed toward the Level 3 air-conditioned canteen, conversation cautious but genuine.
"I feel like I'm pretending to understand everything," someone admitted.
"That's the point," another said. "We're all pretending."
Hidayah smiled, contributing just enough.
At 1:30 p.m., they returned to class.
Slides were rough.
Ideas incomplete.
No one knew exactly what Ms Lim wanted yet.
And she didn't clarify.
At 2:00 p.m., presentations began.
Some groups stumbled.
Some talked too much.
Ms Lim listened quietly, asking questions that cut straight to the core.
When she presented last, it was brief.
Not an answer.
A frame.
By the time dismissal came, Hidayah felt mentally exhausted in a good way.
She packed her laptop carefully.
Another day done.
Jasmine was already waiting at the South Library entrance.
"Accounting is evil," she announced.
"I'll take that as a success," Hidayah said.
They walked to the bus stop together.
Bus 169 arrived on time.
They took seats near the back.
"I swear," Jasmine said, lowering her voice, "everyone in my class pretends they know what's happening."
"That's normal," Hidayah replied.
"Well, I was lost and proud."
Hidayah laughed softly.
The bus rolled on.
"Tomorrow?" Jasmine asked.
"W1," Hidayah said.
"I'm W3."
"Close again."
Convenient.
The word lingered in Hidayah's mind.
She knew better now.
Convenience was not destiny.
They got off at Yishun, parting as usual.
That night, Hidayah lay in bed, phone resting by her pillow.
No disasters.
No revelations.
Just steady progress.
And for the first time, she understood something clearly.
Her second life wouldn't be rewritten in grand gestures.
It would be rebuilt.
One day at a time.