HER STRENGTH HIS SIN

Chapter 7 - Patterns of Deja Vu

It had been a month since I woke up.

A month since I opened my eyes to the same ceiling, the same light, the same world — only to realize everything wasn’t the same at all.

Some mornings I almost cried, not because I was weak, but because it was too much — remembering everything while pretending I didn’t. Every laugh, every betrayal, every hand that fed me poison with a smile.

Sometimes I wondered if the universe hated me, or if it pitied me enough to give me another chance.

They said rebirth was a gift. But what kind of gift was it, when you remembered the pain that killed you?

The air felt thicker now. Every face looked different, even the familiar ones. Maybe because I could finally see them for what they were — masks.

Daniel.

Syra.

Their names alone made my chest tighten.

I told myself I was fine. That I’d play my part, pretend like the past hadn’t happened. But the memories didn’t fade. They burned behind my eyes every time I saw their faces.

And that morning, as I stepped into the campus courtyard again, clutching my books, pretending to be the same old Lisa, I saw them standing together — laughing, close, perfectly staged like a photo I’d seen before.

It was almost funny, how life had a way of replaying itself.

“Ah, my best friend!” Syra’s voice rang out like music, sweet and familiar. But I heard the dissonance underneath.

She came toward me, that fake smile painted bright. Her hand found mine — soft, firm — and then she reached for Daniel’s, lacing us all together like we were some perfect trio.

Her fingers were warm. Too warm.

I felt my stomach twist.

It wasn’t a greeting. It was a reminder.

Of power. Of control. Of the last time she’d held my hand like this — right before stabbing me in the back.

Daniel smiled awkwardly, not quite sure what to do. He still didn’t know what she really was. But I did.

I smiled back anyway. Because that’s what I’d always done.

The difference now?

This time, I wasn’t the prey.