There are moments when life feels perfect, as though the universe has conspired to freeze time, wrapping you in its golden haze. But perfection whispers its warning, "Are you sure?" Because nothing in this world is ever ours to keep, everything is fleeting.
August is a season of almost, a love that slips through your fingers like sand leaving only the memory of warmth. It's a month that lingers briefly then vanishes, much like the way "you and I".
For Matthew Augustus Napoleon, love was a fleeting summer storm, a sweet, reckless surrender to a boy who wasn't his to keep. In their world of hidden glances and sun-drenched afternoons, they promised each other forever, but forever was always an illusion. Now, all that remains are echoes of laughter, shadows of touch, and the bittersweet truth that some loves are meant to be felt, not held.
August isn't just a season-it's a memory, a question, a goodbye that never truly left.
Will Raiven continue to rule the last section if they are starting lost one by one on her grasp?
How can she reign the throne if there's no last section anymore?