There is a peculiar silence that follows something meaningful.

After the Cohort 1 KCF convocation, I found myself staring at my phone longer than usual. The ceremony had ended, the messages had slowed, and yet something within me refused to settle. I had always assumed that a convocation brings closure—a neat, well-defined end. But what I felt instead was a quiet resistance, as if a part of me was not ready to let go.

Perhaps because this was never just a........

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