Chapter 2: Coincidence

Elena’s POV

I told exactly no one what I’d heard outside his office, that day. Not my roommate, not my family on our Sunday call, not even the group chat where I usually spewed every nonsense that had happened to me before thinking it through. Some things you just can’t say out loud, afraid they might become real, and I wasn’t quite ready for “not human” to be real. For more times than I can count since that day, I’d stood in front of the mirror trying to figure out what exactly he found “not human” in me.

And instead, I did exactly what any other reasonable person would do upon finding themselves confronted by a man who had just described them as “not human” from inside his office… I decided I’d misheard or misinterpreted the entire thing… I convinced myself that he wasn’t talking about me at all. Old buildings groaned and pipes shrieked in odd voices. And my lack of sleep and load of adrenaline were finally taking a toll on me… making me perceive things. That was all.

I almost believed it by the time I got back to my dorm room.

---

There was this characteristic silence about the library that I usually liked, it had nearly emptied by nine that night, the long tables and bad fluorescent lighting, like it had isolated itself from the outside world. I was sitting at my usual corner table by the window, the books spread out around me like a moat, and was three hours into a reading response I should have started two days ago, and had instead turned into my favourite excuse for procrastination.

I didn’t hear him arrive. That was the thing I found strange about him because apparently, I had never heard Kane arrive anywhere before. There was no warning before he arrived … he simply became present, like a change in wind.

"You're still here."

I jumped so hard the pen fell from my hands, but he caught it before it hit the floor, his movement quite smooth as if he knew already where it would have landed even before I dropped it, and put it back on the table right next to my book.

“It’s a library,” I said, once my heart stopped trying to give me myocardial infarction. “Isn’t it what most people do here.”

“At nine forty on a Tuesday night, generally what people do here is get to their dorm room on time.” He said it without a smirk, but there was something close to amusement in his voice if he even allowed himself that sort of thing. “You missed dinner.”

It was a statement rather than a question and I particularly didn’t like how well-informed he was.

"How would you know that?"

Something flickered behind his eyes, a variation of the look I had seen in his office that afternoon, like he had said too much. "You have the look of someone running on library snacks and spite," he said instead, which wasn't an answer, but was close enough to true that I let it slide.

He didn't leave. That was the strange thing. Professors didn't linger at student tables making small talk about missed meals. He pulled up the chair across from me, which felt like an absurd overstep and somehow entirely natural, and sat.

"What are you working on?"

“Behavioural Conditioning Theory. It’s due this Thursday. I’m sitting here for half an hour and somehow all I’ve managed to do is write four sentences that don’t make any sense.”

“Read me those four sentences.”

“Absolutely not.” I said immediately.

An expression that could pass off as a smile flickered on his lips and I wondered if he was laughing at my childishness. “Fair enough. I do believe you’re citing Skinner’s theory while completely ignoring the criticism on operant conditioning.” He glanced at the stack of books on the table beside my laptop, tilting his head slightly to read their spines. “That’s going to cost you a full letter grade if Professor Reyes is still as nitpicky as she was when I was on her committee.”

I blinked, taken aback. “You know Professor Reyes?”

“I know most of the department.” He paused for a beat. “I’ve been here longer than I look like I have.”

It was quite a strange thing to say, deliberately strange, and for a moment I genuinely wanted to ask him what he meant but the look on his face stopped me from doing so. Some private calculation resolving behind his eyes.

“Finish your assignment and better eat something before you sleep on your own bibliography,” he said.

“Is that a professor thing to say, or a –“ I stopped myself before saying anything inappropriate.

“A what?” he probed.

“Nothing.” I said, wanting the conversation to end before it drifted somewhere else.

He studied me for a beat too long, like he could hear my thoughts anyway. Then, without sparing me another glance or word, he stood up and left, leaving me to deal with my own thoughts.

I sat there for a long moment, the pen in my hand and the books on the table, forgotten.

I've been here longer than I look like I have.

I convinced myself it meant nothing and I was just reading too much into it. People sometimes say silly things… especially the people who had spent so much of their day standing behind a dais, giving lectures until their exhaustion started leaking in their vocabulary. Yes, that was all there was to it.

I didn’t finish my four sentences that night, instead I sat on my dorm bed with my laptop open and its blank screen staring back at me… and all I could think about was a man who knew more about me than I was willing to share.

---

It happened again two days later, and this time, I couldn’t blame the hour.

I was walking back from the campus coffee shop in broad daylight, students on the sidewalks, nothing about the scenario seemed strange – except that halfway through the quad, the hair at the back of my neck stood up with prickling feeling of being watched. I turned and looked in the direction of gaze and there he was, Kane, standing at the top of the humanities building steps, half a football field away, staring directly at me.

Really looking – not a passing glance – like he wasn’t particularly concerned whether I noticed.

I was taken aback and was unsure what to do, so I lifted my hand with coffee cup in an awkward little wave.

He didn’t wave back. He just kept looking like he was trying to dissect me with his gaze. The moment continued for another two seconds before a girl walking past me turned to see what I was looking at. At that, he turned and disappeared through the doors.

I spent the rest of my walk to my next class trying to figure out why my pulse was trying to jump out of my throat.

---

By Friday, I’d started keeping a record of how many times Kane appeared at the places I frequented – the campus coffee shop at the exact time I usually went, three times in a week Kane walking down the science building corridor, same direction as me and that too in a building that had absolutely nothing to do with his department. He even appeared at the edge of the quad, the one evening I decided to take a stroll around campus, keeping an eye on the same group of rowdy freshmen that I’d been avoiding.

Coincidence, I told myself every time to keep myself sane and from dwelling upon it too much. After all, as they say the world is round and you see the same faces over and over again. That was it.

Nothing to worry myself with.

I almost managed to convince myself (key word “almost”), until Friday night when I had to stay till eleven at night at the library to complete an upcoming assignment. I started my walk back towards the dorm through the path that ran along the edge of woods bordering the campus walls. This was the path that every student got a safety precaution email about at the start of the semester and apparently, every student paid no heed to it because using this path to get back to dorm saved them fifteen minutes of the walk.

I was halfway through the path when I heard a low, guttural growl coming from somewhere from the tree line to my left. I could tell that it was not a dog’s growl – I’ve never heard this intense a growl in my life. A shiver ran down my spine at the sound and my heart slammed against my ribcage. Every rational thought getting replaced by the instinct of flight. That was when a hand appeared from behind me and closed around my arm.

My soul nearly jumped out of my skin and I would’ve screamed my lungs out if I hadn’t recognized the voice coming after. It was then I realized that the grip was grounding me instead of bruising… as if he knew the right amount of pressure to apply to keep me feeling safe without hurting me.

“Don’t,” Kane said, close to my ear. “Don’t run. Walk. Now.”

“But –“

“Now, Elena.”

I started walking. His hand at my elbow guided me towards the lit path. He had positioned himself between me and the woods like a wall he’d built out of nothing but posture. I didn’t look back. I wanted to, but something about the set of his jaw and unusual hurriedness of his gait told me not to.

Only when we reached the edge of the dimly lit quad did his grip loosen and I had the chance to turn around and look at him only to find him breathing harder than the walk alone should have warranted. His eyes stayed fixed on the tree line behind us… keeping track of any unusual movement.

“What was that?” I asked when I recovered my voice.

“A dog,” he said. “Off leash. You should report it to the campus security.”

It was such an obvious lie that I almost laughed – except that my hands were still shaking from the ordeal and the growl was still echoing somewhere in my mind. It would surely haunt me for days to come.

“Sir –“

“Go home, Elena,” he cut me off again. “Lock the door.” I’d started to grow angry now – first the growl, now the orders.

He didn’t wait for me to argue, already turning around and walking back towards the tree line he’d pulled me out of.

I watched him go until the dark had swallowed him whole, and I didn't move from that spot for a long time after, turning one thought over and over in my mind, unable to shake it loose no matter how hard I tried to explain it away.

Dogs don't growl like that.

And men don't walk toward them on purpose.