Kismet | ENGLOT

Chapter 33

Engfa's POV:

The auditorium buzzed with the kind of excitement and pride that felt almost tangible. I stood backstage, fingers gripping the edge of my graduation cap like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. The weight of my white coat rested heavily on my shoulders—not just the fabric, but everything it symbolized. The years of sleepless nights, relentless exams, and moments when I thought I couldn't go on. Doctor Engfa Waraha. The embroidered letters above my heart felt surreal.

From where I stood, I could see my parents in the front row. My father, ever the stoic man, gave me a rare thumbs-up, and it nearly broke me. My mother's hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her tear-filled eyes locked on the stage, as if this moment was as much hers as it was mine. Just behind them, my friends—Nessa, Patcha, Tina, Heidi, Marima, and even Snack—were loud and unapologetically proud, their cheers rising above the crowd. They had been my constant anchors, never letting me fall, even when the weight of grief threatened to consume me.

But as I stood on the brink of this moment, I couldn't stop my mind from drifting to the one person who wasn't here, yet whose presence I felt so profoundly. Charlotte.

The ache in my chest swelled as her name whispered through my thoughts. She had been my world, my reason for every step I had taken to get here. I thought of the person I used to be before her—a girl who laughed loudly, lived without a plan, and thought little of the future. Charlotte had changed all of that. She entered my life like a hurricane, turning everything upside down, but she left it better. Even in her absence, she remained the voice in my head urging me forward.

Her love had planted the seed of purpose in me. I could still hear her voice in my memories, telling me I was capable of more, that I could become someone extraordinary. Every sleepless night I endured, every exam I passed, and every moment I doubted myself—she was the reason I pushed through. I had promised her I would live a life worthy of the love we shared, and today, standing here, I hoped I had made her proud.

"Dr. Engfa Waraha," the dean's voice rang out, clear and commanding. The applause was deafening, but I barely heard it over the pounding of my heart. My legs felt shaky as I stepped onto the stage, each step feeling heavier than the last. When the diploma was placed in my hands, I couldn't stop my fingers from brushing over the gold-embossed letters. I made it, Charlotte.

As I turned to face the crowd, my breath caught in my throat. My parents' faces were glowing with pride. My mother wiped a tear as my father gave a small, approving nod. Behind them, my friends were on their feet, cheering so loudly that it almost made me laugh through the lump in my throat. My chest tightened as I stepped toward the microphone.

"Good afternoon, everyone," I began, my voice steadier than I felt. "Today is a day of celebration, of triumph, and of reflection. It marks the culmination of years of hard work, sacrifice, and unwavering support from the people who stood by us."

I paused, my gaze sweeping the crowd until it landed on my parents. "To my family—Mom, Dad—thank you for believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself. Your love and guidance have been my anchor, and I am here because of you."

Turning slightly, my eyes found my friends. "To my friends, who reminded me of my strength on the darkest days, who never let me forget my worth—you have been my lifeline. I wouldn't be standing here without you."

My voice caught, and for a moment, I closed my eyes, summoning the courage to say what my heart demanded. "And finally," I continued, my voice trembling, "to someone who taught me what it means to love deeply, to live fully—you are the reason I'm standing here today. Thank you."