There’s a strange kind of magic in being part of something that grows — and a strange kind of silence when you're suddenly not.

For some, it’s just a logo. For me, it was late nights, countless drafts, back-and-forth edits, moments of doubt, and bursts of clarity. It was the thrill of seeing an idea go live and the quiet pride of watching a brand slowly take shape — one piece of content, one strategy, one campaign at a time.

Not as an employee. Not on paper. Just an intern.
But then again, what does a title know about ownership?

I learned early that showing up mattered more than being listed. So I showed up — every day, every deadline, every discussion. I built with the belief that effort always finds its way.

Then one day, without much noise, the canvas changed hands. Fresh colours. New brushstrokes. A different signature.

And I was told, softly and suddenly, to wait — not in the meeting room, not on the calendar, but somewhere between “maybe” and “we’ll let you know.”

There’s no villain in this story. Just a quiet corner where questions sit unanswered, and a desk that now belongs to someone else.

But here’s what remains:
The work I did.
The voice I helped shape.
The version of me that grew with every draft.

This isn’t a post about endings. It’s just a pause between pages. The story continues. I’ll just be writing the next chapter somewhere else.