Chapter 11 - Graduation & Other Goodbyes
Chapter 11: Graduation & Other Goodbyes
NTU’s Convocation Hall was dressed in gold and blue.
The air smelled of fresh flowers, borrowed blazers, and a strange blend of excitement and melancholy. Students buzzed across the plaza—some laughing, some crying, all posing with wide smiles that barely masked the weight in their hearts.
Among the crowd, ABIX stood together, slightly mismatched in their outfits but perfectly synced in spirit.
Aleem and Crystal were in their graduation robes. Black gowns. Velvet hoods. The symbolic square cap they both kept adjusting because why does this thing never sit right?
Ivan was there too—holding Crystal’s phone and acting as the unofficial photographer.
Isabelle, the baby of the group, clutched a bouquet she made herself the night before. It was slightly lopsided, but none of them mentioned it. She beamed as she passed it to Aleem.
“You survived,” she whispered with a smile.
“Barely,” Aleem said, his voice catching slightly.
Moments That Linger
They took their usual chaotic photo—Aleem standing like an awkward uncle, Ivan throwing a peace sign behind him, Crystal mid-laugh with wind in her hair, Isabelle caught blinking.
Then another one—arms around shoulders. Closer. Warmer. A silent vow captured in pixels.
At lunch, conversation was light. Crystal was talking about job interviews—how one HR lady asked if she was “too bubbly for corporate culture.”
“She said it like it was a bad thing,” Crystal grumbled.
Aleem had gotten an offer already. A tech company. He wasn’t sure if he was excited, or just relieved.
Ivan nodded along, already deep in his own prep for final year. “Can’t believe I’m the last one standing.”
Isabelle glanced up. “Hey, I still have two years.”
“But you’re the smart one,” Ivan shot back. “You’ll be fine.”
That made her smile. But only briefly.
Because soon, the mood shifted.
It always does, in these moments.
The Bench Scene
After lunch, they wandered around campus one last time—just the four of them. Their path took them to a quiet bench near the Sports Hall. The same bench they once sat on after their first game as ABIX.
They sat again. This time, older. Changed. But still them.
“I hate this part,” Isabelle whispered.
Aleem looked at her. “Which part?”
“The part where people leave.”
Silence.
Crystal reached over, squeezing her hand.
“We’re not disappearing, Belle.”
“But it’s not going to be the same.”
Crystal didn’t argue. Because it was true.
No more random badminton games.
No more weekday boba runs.
No more shouting across lecture halls, or crashing study rooms in the Hive.
Everything was shifting.
Even if the people stayed, the world around them was moving forward—and they could feel it.
Aleem looked up at the sky. The evening clouds were soft. Faded orange. Just like his feelings.
“It’s like we’re walking the same path,” he said quietly, “but now some of us are starting to take exits.”
Ivan added, “But the highway’s still there.”
They all smiled, sad and warm at the same time.
A New Kind of Promise
That night, Crystal created a new group chat: ABIX 2.0 – No Ghosting Allowed.
The profile picture was a blurry selfie of them at lunch, Aleem mid-blink, Ivan mouth open, Isabelle trying not to laugh, and Crystal pointing at the camera like a host on a cooking show.
Their first messages:
Crystal: I expect monthly updates. Pics or it didn’t happen.
Ivan: You’ll get progress shots of my FYP tears.
Isabelle: I’ll post chemistry memes and nobody can stop me.
Aleem: You’ll get bug reports from my life. Coding and otherwise.
The Real Goodbye
At the end of the day, when the campus was quieter and the robes were folded away, Aleem and Crystal stood together outside Hall 10.
“Can you believe we’re done?” Crystal asked.
Aleem didn’t answer right away.
“Not really. I keep thinking I have a lab due next week.”
She chuckled softly.
Then she turned to him, serious for a second. “Thanks, by the way. For being the glue sometimes.”
Aleem shrugged. “Thanks for being the spark.”
They hugged. Brief. Tight. Familiar.
No words after that.
Just a small wave goodbye.
And a silent promise to return—whenever, however, wherever.
Because ABIX wasn’t just a group.
It was home.