Coincidence or Jeanie? — Chapter 2: Jeanie?? Who is Jeanie???

One year later. Twenty-two candles on the cake, zero answers about the weirdness. I wish I could say life went back to normal after the mall incident, but it didn’t. Normal packed its bags and left.

By now, the coincidences were routine. I’d get a gut punch about spilled coffee, and two minutes later someone would actually spill it. A twinge in my ankle, and someone would trip on the curb. Lights flickered, alarms went off, songs lined up like they were part of some cosmic playlist. My life had basically turned into one long blooper reel, and I just learned to live with it.

But somewhere in that year, something changed. A name started following me. Jeanie.

It slipped into conversations, books, TV shows, games. Random, casual, like it had always been there. At first I brushed it off. Coincidence, sure. Except coincidences were supposed to be my thing. And this one felt different. Personal.

Tonight was no exception. I was rereading Harry Potter (because obviously), and right as I got to the part with the Weasleys, I muttered, “Oh, for crying out loud. Not again.”

Laura, doomscrolling on her phone next to me, didn’t even look up.
“Jeanie?”
I groaned. “Yes, Jeanie. Again. I swear that name is stalking me.”
She smirked. “Maybe some girl named Jeanie is into you.”
“Yeah,” I said, “because women always confess their crushes by hacking into novels and video games.”

The truth? I had never met a Jeanie. Not unless you count our childhood neighbor back in San Francisco, who I hadn’t thought about in years. But this felt different. The coincidences I could handle. The name? That was new. And it wasn’t going away.

---

The next day, I walked into the office, ready to unload everything on Reed. Before I could even open my mouth, my chest clenched.

I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I’d maybe had ten hours of sleep in the past week, running on caffeine and sarcasm. My body finally tapped out. The floor tilted. Voices rushed in, too loud, too fast, like the whole building was shouting directly into my skull. My vision shrank to a pinprick.

And then I saw her.

A girl pressed into a small space, surrounded by darkness. Brunette hair falling over her face, eyes wide and hollow, like she had been there far too long. And a voice, not hers but everywhere at once, whispering: Find her.

Then silence. Then black.

When I came to, I was on the break room couch. Reed hovered over me with a bottle of water, looking way too casual about the fact that I had just face-planted into the void.
“Not to freak you out,” he said, “but with the way things are going, it’s starting to feel like you accidentally summoned a genie or something.”

My stomach dropped. I blinked. “Wait… how do you know that name?”
He frowned. “What name?”
“Jeanie.”
Reed squinted. “I said genie. You know, magic lamp, three wishes, Robin Williams energy? That kind of genie?”

My pulse hammered in my ears. I swallowed. “Right. Genie.”
I just stared at him. He stared back.
“Okay, what did you think I meant?”
I didn’t answer. Mostly because I didn’t have one.

---

I left early that day. Told my boss I needed rest. Told Reed I was fine. Lied to both.

Because the truth was itching under my skin. The coincidences. The gut feelings. The name. All of it circling like storm clouds, and me without an umbrella.

That night, I stretched out on my bed with headphones in, trying to drown it all out. But the universe doesn’t believe in quiet.

---

Still wired, I opened my music app to chill and hit shuffle.

First song: Heart Attack by Enrique. Weird, but not insane.
Next: Wide Awake by Katy Perry.
Then Wake Me Up by Avicii.
Then Castle of Glass by Linkin Park.

Four in a row. Too perfect to be random. I pulled out a headphone and let out a shaky laugh. I half-laughed, half-whispered, “What’s your name then?”

Right then, my bedroom door creaked open. I froze.

Laura stuck her head in. “You gonna get rid of Jeanie or what?”

I nearly jumped out of bed. “What, why would you say that?”
She shrugged, grinning. “I dunno. Just popped into my head, like a jingle.” Then she wandered off humming, like it was nothing.

But I couldn’t laugh it off, not this time. The songs, the whispers, now Laura saying the name. It wasn’t random anymore. Whoever she was, Jeanie was trying to contact me.

The doorbell rang. A moment later Laura poked her head back in. “Want pizza? Margherita.”
I just stared at her, convinced she was part of the simulation glitching.

Later, I got up to go to the bathroom. My room has two doors, one to the hallway, one to the bathroom. I opened the bathroom door and the hallway door swung open behind me. No wind. No one there. Just the eerie creak of my sanity unraveling.
“Right,” I muttered. “I’ll hold it.”

I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and tried to do literally anything except think about voices, songs, or ghost girls named Jeanie. Didn’t work.

Laura called from the kitchen a few minutes later. “Your favorite, margherita pizza!”
Normally I’d sprint. Instead I mumbled, “Not hungry.”
“You okay?” she asked.
“Stomach ache,” I lied.

I wasn’t sick. Just… haunted. Definitely haunted.

I lay in bed for hours, headphones tossed aside, thoughts circling like vultures. Eventually, around 3 a.m., sleep dragged me under.

---

Over the next few days, the coincidences kept coming, little ones enough to chip away at my nerves.

Finally, I snapped. I stood in the middle of my room like a sleep-deprived exorcist and shouted, “WHOEVER YOU ARE, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Then I grabbed my phone, opened Notes, and typed:
Jeanie, Jeanie, Jeanie. I’m fed up. Please leave me alone.

Hit save. Closed the app.

And just like that, everything stopped.

No weird gut feelings. No random shivers. No name popping up in books or movies or song lyrics. For the first time in weeks, I felt normal. And honestly, it was kind of nice.

I slept through the night for once. Woke up without that heavy pit in my chest. Even enjoyed work again. For two straight days, life felt easy.

---

Then the call came.

I was at home, half-watching TV, half-scrolling my phone when it rang. Unknown number. I almost didn’t pick up.

“Mr. Clement?” a voice asked. “This is St. Mary’s Hospital. Your friend, Reed Morgan, has been in an accident. He asked us to contact you.”

The remote slipped out of my hand. For a moment I couldn’t breathe.

No warning. No gut feeling. Nothing. Just silence.

And the note. Please leave me alone.

If I hadn’t written it, maybe I would have known. Maybe I could have stopped this. Instead, Reed was lying in a hospital bed, and I was sprinting through the night like an idiot, cursing myself for killing the one thing that might have warned me.

I’d wished Jeanie away.
And now Reed was paying the price.

To Be Continued