This is the second part in the series and topic.

An angst story-

A couple gets into a fight in a car. The wife, Ivory, is kicked out into the dangerous, dark night as her husband, Azriel, drives off. Regretful, he returns and drives around to look for her, only for her to have gone missing.

Will he be able to find her safe and sound?

A poetic and conversations with my mind collection that I wrote over the course of September/October 2017.

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A collection of my contest submissions too short to standalone. Mostly an archive for me, but feel free to peruse!

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~ A Dark Fantasy Tale ~

They whispered her name like a curse: Seraphine Blackthorn. In the shadowed valleys of Hollow Veil, where the mist never lifted and the trees bled sap as dark as pitch, the witch walked alone, her boots leaving no sound, her presence silencing even the crows.

Clad in midnight leathers and armoured silk, she wore the beaked mask of a plague doctor not as a relic of healing, but a warning. Long ago, she had once been a healer. A white-cloaked apprentice of the old alchemist orders. Now, she wielded magic laced with venom and shadows, the twisted remnants of her past.

The world had changed. Or perhaps she had.

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Inspired of the saying (you'll never guess which one):"There is a rainbow around the corner"Jamie has very bad luck getting ready for an interview and of course there is a plot twist - unfortunately its very predictable ):

🕊️ House of Redemption

In the heights of Heaven, where time does not touch pure hearts, Sara Kosmos Gi Magdalena, daughter of Jesus Kosmos Gi Lámpsiy and Mary Magdalene, watches the corruption of Earth with sorrow. Though she appears to be twenty years old, she has lived for over two thousand years. Moved by compassion, Sara chooses to descend into the world of men to offer them one final chance at redemption.

Disguised under a humble identity, she builds a sanctuary amidst the modern chaos: the House of Redemption, a refuge of love, healing, and truth. But her purity is scorned, her kindness mocked, and like her father before her, Sara is seen as naive by a world that has lost its faith.

By her side stands Samuel, a young human who discovers in her a light impossible to ignore, becoming her protector and first believer. Together, with the help of Carmen, a young woman scarred by a tragic past, and Francisco, a man seeking redemption for his own sins, they will face both visible and invisible forces.

For evil never sleeps. Lucifer hides within corrupted religions, unjust systems, and men who kill in the name of faith. And when the shadows of the past rise again to slay the righteous, Sara will have to decide:Can humanity be saved… or does it deserve to be forsaken?

This short story is just what has happened to me and just put into my writing style and how I saw it through my eyes. Thankfully I am well over this stupid guy now. I also apologize for the wide gaps in days! 🙇

Jilona had been admiring a particular pair of shoes for months—champagne colored, glittery block heels that caught the sunlight and sparkled like they belonged in a dream. But at $500.00, those shoes were out of her reach. She could only admire those shoes and imagine what it would be like to wear them.

Which brought her to the other question – where would she wear them and with what? Her wardrobe leaned casual—jeans, simple tops, everyday shoes—with the exception of three cocktail dresses she only wore on rare occasions.

With a sigh, she took one last lingering look at the shoes before turning away from the display and heading toward the bus stop. As she stood waiting alongside a small crowd, her thoughts drifted to a dream she’d had a few nights earlier—one of the most unusual she'd ever experienced.

She was at a lavish party that was held inside the grand ballroom of a luxury hotel. Everyone wore elegant masks. The men were dressed in sharp tuxedos, the women in dazzling gowns that shimmered under the chandelier light.

In the dream, Jilona had caught sight of herself in a mirror. She was wearing a floor-length, champagne colored glittery dress that hugged her full, curvy figure perfectly. Her hair was styled in vintage waves reminiscent of the 1920s. And on her feet—those very same glittering block heels she had longed for.

As she admired her reflection, a soft voice spoke behind her:

“You are very beautiful.”

And then she had woken up.

The dream had stayed with her ever since.

II

Jilona stepped into her modest one-bedroom apartment and quietly hung her jacket and purse on the coat rack by the door. Another average day lay ahead—browsing the internet, checking emails, making a simple dinner, maybe reading a book or watching a movie. Then a shower, and off to bed.

It was her routine. Familiar. Predictable.

Sometimes she found herself scrolling through social media, seeing plus-size women who looked glamorous, confident, and anything but average. They wore bold, stylish outfits that embraced their curves unapologetically. Jilona knew much of it was carefully curated—the right angles, filters, lighting—but a part of her wondered… would it hurt to try? To be a little more daring? To dress in clothes that celebrated her shape instead of concealing it?

But that wasn’t her reality.

She didn’t have many close friends—just a few coworkers who occasionally invited her out. No boyfriend, either. Not for lack of trying. And even though society was becoming more vocal about body acceptance, Jilona couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t belong in that conversation. Deep down, she was still afraid to be seen. Still struggling to see herself as anything close to stunning.

“Just accept it, Jil” she said to herself. “This is your life. This is the way that it is”

◾◾◾◾

It was 9:45 p.m., and Jilona sat at her vanity, gently combing her short dark brown hair as she studied her reflection in the mirror. She was a lovely woman—warm brown eyes, and a complexion that could best be described as a rich, deep café au lait. Her sleeveless nightgown, a deep pink-red hue, complemented her skin beautifully. She often imagined the color in a luxurious satin, floor-length nightgown. Instead, her current nightgown was a practical cotton-polyester blend that fell just to her knees—comfortable, machine washable, and quite ordinary.

When she was finished, she climbed into bed and turned off the lamp.

Silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint hum of the city beyond her window. The blinds muted most of the outside noise, allowing only a sliver of moonlight to slip through, casting a pale silver line across her bedroom wall.

Jilona lay still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, thoughts quietly drifting, until sleep eventually found her.

◾◾◾◾

At 1:09 a.m., Jilona’s eyes flew open. Something had stirred her from sleep. She lay still for a moment, listening, but the apartment was quiet. Slipping out of bed, she padded into the living room and turned on her laptop, not quite sure why.

As she checked her email, one subject line caught her eye: “Blessed and Glam.”

Curious, she clicked it open.

It was an invitation to a spiritual gathering at a local church—promising a day filled with prayer, worship, singing, and something unexpected: a team of hairstylists and makeup artists offering free makeovers. It was described as a celebration of both inner and outer beauty, a space for women to reconnect with God and themselves.

Something stirred deep inside her. A quiet nudge. She didn’t usually attend events like this, but for some reason, she felt compelled to go.

She glanced at her Bible on the nearby shelf and reached for it. As she opened it, her eyes landed on a verse from Isaiah 61:3. As Jilona read the words, her heart slowly filled with a mix of awe and anticipation.

“Clearly, Heavenly Father… You’re telling me to attend this event,” she whispered. “I don’t know what You have planned, but I’ll go.”

She bowed her head and offered a quiet prayer of thanks.

Then, feeling an unfamiliar sense of peace came over her. She shut down her laptop and returned to bed.

III

Blessed and Glam was held at Road of Faith Church. The Fellowship Hall buzzed with energy, filled with women of all backgrounds and ethnicities. The atmosphere was warm, joyful, and expectant. Jilona was greeted with kindness by the smiling volunteers at the door and quickly found herself mingling with the crowd, sharing soft laughter and introductions with strangers who didn’t feel like strangers for long.

The pastor’s wife, who was also the host of the event, stepped up to the microphone and welcomed everyone with heartfelt warmth. She led the group in a prayer that felt personal and powerful, followed by a time of worship. The room rang with hymns and spirituals—songs that seemed to rise from deep within the soul. The music lifted Jilona’s spirits, washing away the nervousness she hadn’t realized she carried.

After worship, it was time for the makeovers. Stylists and makeup artists began calling women over one by one. Jilona sat quietly in one of the waiting chairs, anticipation fluttering in her chest.

Soon, a kind-eyed woman approached her.

“Hello, I’m Cecelia,” she said with a warm smile. “Are you ready for your makeover?”

“Uh, yes,” Jilona replied, a little shy but smiling back.

“Wonderful. Come with me.”

Jilona followed Cecelia to her station, where soft gospel music played in the background. Cecelia worked with gentle confidence—styling Jilona’s hair and carefully applying makeup that enhanced rather than masked. When she was finished, she handed Jilona a mirror.

Jilona blinked, taking in her reflection. It was still her—but more radiant. Not because of the products, but because something deeper had been uncovered. It was the face she had imagined in moments of hope, the one she always believed was there beneath self-doubt.

Emotion welled up in her eyes, but she held back tears, not wanting to smudge the makeup.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course,” Cecelia replied, gently squeezing her shoulder. “I have a feeling today holds even more blessings for you. God be with you.”

Jilona smiled, her heart full. “Thank you—and God bless you in all that you do.”

◾◾◾◾

As Jilona stepped out of the church, a lightness filled her spirit. On a whim, she decided to do a little shopping. There was a pink sundress she had been eyeing for weeks—and today, she finally bought it. A pair of jeans embroidered with delicate roses caught her eye next, and without hesitation, she added them to her purchases.

As she walked through the city, bags in hand, she felt wonderful—radiant, even. Something inside her had shifted.

Eventually, she found herself standing once again in front of the store window that held the glittery champagne colored block heels—the ones that had dazzled her for months. She paused, admiring them just as she always did, even though she knew they were far beyond her budget.

But this time, something was different. A store clerk appeared in the window and gently removed the shoes from the display.

Someone had finally purchased them.

Jilona watched with a wistful smile. “Whoever bought those shoes,” she said softly, “wear them with style.”

And with that, she turned and walked away—lighter, stronger, and quietly shining in her own way.

◾◾◾◾

When Jilona arrived home, she was surprised to find a package sitting at her door. At first, she assumed it was a delivery mistake. But when she bent down to check the label, her eyes widened—it had her name on it.

“I didn’t order anything,” she murmured, glancing up and down the hallway. It was quiet. No one in sight.

Carefully, she picked up the box and unlocked her door. Once inside, she set the package on the coffee table, then placed her purse and shopping bags aside. She stared at the box, debating whether to call the police. But something stirred within her—an urge to open it first.

With hesitant hands, she peeled back the tape and lifted the lid.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Inside were the glittery champagne hued shoes she had admired so many times in the store window.

“But… who would buy these for me?” she whispered, completely baffled. “No one I know could afford them.”

Just then, a knock echoed through the apartment.

Startled, she approached the door and peeked through the peephole.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Good afternoon,” came a man’s voice. “I’m with Gilded Gold Invites. I have a delivery for Miss Jilona Alexander.”

Cautiously, she cracked open the door. A neatly dressed courier stood on the other side, holding a gold envelope.

“Are you Miss Jilona Alexander?” he asked with a pleasant smile.

“I am…” she replied slowly.

“This is for you, ma’am,” he said, handing her the envelope.

She accepted it, and the man offered a polite nod before walking away.

Jilona closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it for a moment. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the envelope.

Inside was a beautifully embossed invitation:

Miss Jilona Alexander,

You are warmly invited to

The Golden Ball

Date: Tonight at 7:00 PM

Location: Ivory Grand Hotel

A limousine will arrive to pick you up. Please be ready.

“What in the world is going on?” she whispered.

Another knock interrupted her thoughts.

She hurried to the peephole. Another delivery man.

“Yes?” she said.

“Delivery for Jilona Alexander.”

She opened the door slowly. The man smiled and handed her a large, carefully wrapped box.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome, ma’am. Enjoy your evening,” he replied before leaving.

Once again, she locked the door and set the package on the coffee table, right beside the invitation. She opened it with deliberate care.

Inside was a breathtaking, floor-length, strapless gown in a shimmering champagne hue. A subtle slit ran up one side. Along with it were a matching clutch, gold earrings, and a delicate bracelet—everything perfectly coordinated.

Jilona stood in silence, staring at the ensemble. None of this made any logical sense.

She walked to the window, folded her hands, and bowed her head.

“Heavenly Father… I know You have a way of doing things that I don’t understand. This is obviously one of those things. And yet, I thank You in advance. Amen.”

IV

At exactly 7:00 PM, Jilona sat in the back of the limousine as it glided smoothly through the city streets. Her heart pounded in her chest. Never in her life had she imagined being invited to a ball—especially one held at the Ivory Grand, one of the most exclusive and expensive hotels in the city.

Thoughts swirled through her mind. How did this happen? Who arranged all of this? Why me?

The limousine pulled up to the grand entrance of the hotel. The driver stepped out and opened the door for her. A well-dressed doorman walked up to the limousine and extended his hand. Jilona hesitated for a moment, surprised by the gesture, but she accepted his hand and stepped gracefully out of the car.

Without a word, the doorman offered a polite nod and escorted her inside, down a long corridor to a set of gleaming double doors. Behind them, the Golden Ball awaited.

The moment she stepped through the doors, it felt as if she had crossed into another world.

The ballroom sparkled with golden light and crystal chandeliers. Elegantly dressed guests danced to the rhythm of a live orchestra. Laughter and soft conversation floated through the air. The women wore gowns in every color and style, and the men were sharply dressed in tuxedos. Everything was perfect—like something from a dream she once had. The only thing missing were the masks.

“Invitation, please,” said the greeter at the door.

Jilona handed him the gold envelope. He glanced at it, then looked up and smiled warmly.

“Welcome, Miss Alexander. Please, enjoy the evening.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, stepping further into the room.

She moved slowly through the ballroom, taking it all in. Unsure of where to go or what to do, she accepted a glass of champagne and a small canapé from a passing server. Then, finding an empty table near the edge of the room, she sat down.

Though everything around her sparkled with elegance, a feeling of isolation crept in. No one seemed familiar. She began to wonder if she had made a mistake by coming. Maybe this wasn’t meant for her after all.

Just as the doubt settled in, a man approached her table.

He offered a gentle smile and extended his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Jilona smiled.

“Of course,” she said, taking his hand.

The man who led her to the dance floor was handsome—of average height, with reddish-brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a complexion not too different from her own.

As they began to waltz, he spoke.

“What’s your name?”

“Jilona,” she replied.

“I’m Andrew.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Andrew and to be dancing with you,” she said with a polite smile.

He returned the smile. “Yes.”

There was something in the way he said it—pleasant, but distant—that made her feel as though he hadn’t asked her to dance out of genuine interest. It felt as if was some tainted curiosity.

“So, tell me about yourself, Jilona,” Andrew said as they moved together in time with the music.

“I’m a customer service rep for a pharmaceutical delivery company,” she said. “In my spare time, I like reading, writing, and listening to music. I’m also the youngest of four.”

“Ah. I see.”

There was a subtle shift in his voice. A faint note of disappointment.

“Where did you go to college?” he asked, almost offhandedly.

“I didn’t go to college,” she said simply.

Andrew’s expression changed. His smile faltered, and Jilona noticed the way he now looked at her—like someone trying to figure out how she ended up at an event like this.

She held her head a little higher.

“And what about you, Andrew? Tell me about yourself.”

“I graduated from Harvard Business School—top of my class,” Andrew said, his tone taking on a smug edge. “I work at one of the city’s most prestigious financial firms. You’ve probably never heard of it.”

Jilona stopped dancing and gently pulled away, frowning.

“You clearly don’t like me,” she said, steadying her voice. “And we just met.”

Andrew crossed his arms and looked her up and down, his gaze growing colder.

“I’m just trying to understand why you’re here. This is an invitation-only event.”

“I was invited,” she said.

“By who?” he asked, arching a skeptical brow.

“I don’t know who. The invitation showed up at my apartment with my name on it. That’s all I know.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed. Then he gave a slow, patronizing smirk.

“Sounds like someone played a prank on you.”

“What are you talking about?” Jilona asked, her confusion showing.

“I mean,” he said with a cruel chuckle, “someone probably sent you that invitation just to watch you flounder. Maybe they thought it’d be entertaining—someone like you, trying to blend in here.”

His gaze swept over her again, more critically this time.

“Tell me—how much did that dress cost you? Or did you pick it up at one of those secondhand boutiques that resell designer knockoffs?”

“I didn’t buy it,” Jilona said quietly. “It was sent to me. Along with the invitation.”

Andrew let out a mocking laugh.

“Sure it was. A likely story.”

Jilona stood still, her heart thudding. She blinked back tears but kept her chin lifted.

“Let’s be honest,” he said, leaning in with a sneer. “You don’t belong here. Whether someone set you up or you managed to sneak your way in... you’re out of your depth. And you’re not welcome.”

Jilona watched him walk away, his words still echoing in her ears. She continued to hold back the tears. Without a word, she turned and made her way to the patio, needing air—needing space to breathe.

◾◾◾◾

As Jilona stood alone on the patio, Andrew’s harsh words replayed in her mind. A part of her wondered if he was right. But who would go to such lengths to play a cruel trick on her—and why?

She mentally sifted through a list of people she might have offended, but no one came to mind. Certainly no one who moved in elite circles. She hadn’t told anyone about her interest in events like this, not even about the shoes she’d secretly admired—let alone that they’d shown up at her door.

None of it made any sense.

She finally made the decision to go home. It was clear she didn’t belong at the Golden Ball.

As she stepped back into the ballroom, something nagged at her—an unshakable feeling urging her to stay. But she pushed it aside and continued toward the entrance.

“Excuse me”

She turned.

A man stood before her—tall, with wavy hair the color of pale gold. His warm, fair skin seemed to glow under the chandelier light, and his blue-violet eyes sparkled like distant stars. He wore a black tuxedo adorned with elegant filigree on the lapels. He smiled, then took her hand and kissed it gently.

“Hello,” she said, caught off guard, yet managing a small smile.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” he replied.

Jilona stared at him, stunned.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I am Bryon Genet.”

“Jilona Alexander,” she said softly.

“I know,” he replied with a smile. “I’m the one who sent you the invitation.”

Her eyes widened. “But… we’ve never met.”

“Actually, we have,” Bryon said gently. “In another life—where I fell madly in love with you the moment I first saw you.”

Jilona was captivated by his voice—deep and soothing, yet laced with a quiet, seductive power. His French accent only added to his undeniable allure.

But it wasn’t just his charm. There was something else… something hauntingly familiar.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice soft, filled with wonder and something deeper—recognition.

“I am the man who has always loved you,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I once gave up my immortality to be with you. And by the grace of God, I’ve been given that chance again.”

He looked at her with reverence. “Jilona, you are… radiant.”

Then, a single word surfaced in her mind, as if whispered by memory itself:

Angelus.

“Mahanaim?” she breathed.

He smiled, a quiet light shining in his eyes. “Yes… but I haven’t used that name in a very long time.”

He extended his hand, eyes never leaving hers. “Dance with me, Belle Âme.”

Jilona smiled, heart racing, and placed her hand in his. Together, they stepped onto the dance floor.

V

Time seemed to slow as they danced, eyes locked, moving in perfect rhythm. A wave of deep familiarity swept over Jilona. The warmth of Bryon’s hand resting on her back made her feel safe—anchored. Something within her soul whispered: Yes… you know him.

Then a sharp voice cut through the moment.

“What are you still doing here?”

Jilona and Bryon looked up. Andrew stood before them, eyes narrowed, his tone accusatory.

“I invited her,” Bryon said without a trace of apology.

Andrew arched an eyebrow, his voice smug. “And you are?”

“Byron Genet. International business consultant.” He reached into his jacket and handed Andrew a card.

VERITAS POINT

The Truth in Global Consulting

Byron Genet

CEO & Lead Consultant

Andrew flipped the card over and found a number. He pulled out his phone, dialed it, and a moment later, Bryon’s cell chimed.

With a calm smirk, Bryon answered, “Veritas Point, this is Byron Genet.”

Andrew’s eyes widened. Bryon ended the call and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“You believe me now, don’t you?” he said, eyes fixed on Andrew.

Andrew swallowed. “I’ve… never heard of your consulting firm.”

“Yes,” Bryon said smoothly, “As there are others who have never heard of your prestigious financial firm.”

“It’s… relatively new,” Andrew mumbled, suddenly unsure.

Bryon smiled, cool and composed. “I know all about you, Andrew Stuart—and your ‘relatively new’ firm. Including the ongoing IRS investigation regarding your creative tax filings.”

Andrew paled, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

“If you're wondering how I know,” Bryon continued, “I make it a point to be informed about those I might cross paths with. Especially since it was your mother who invited me here—hoping I could steer your firm in the right direction.”

He took a step forward. “But your arrogant, condescending treatment of Jilona tells me that working with you would be a mistake.”

Then he turned to Jilona, his expression softening. “My darling, shall we leave the ball?”

She blinked, still caught in the strange magic of the moment. “Where are we going?”

“To see the world,” he said with a warm smile, “as I once promised I would.”

She didn’t fully understand—but something deep inside told her she could trust him. She nodded.

And together, they left the Golden Ball, hand in hand.

◾◾◾◾

A beautiful yacht named Zion’s Gate gleamed under the moonlight, docked at the edge of the quiet marina. Jilona stood on the deck, awe-struck. The vessel’s sheer size and its luxurious, elegant furnishings left her speechless.

She leaned against the railing, gazing up at the stars as they shimmered across the velvet sky. A soft breeze kissed her face. Then, she felt the gentle touch of Bryon’s hands on her arms—and she smiled.

“I feel like Cinderella,” she murmured.

Bryon chuckled softly behind her. “Yes, but Cinderella’s magic ended at midnight,” he said, “at least in Charles Perrault’s telling.”

Jilona turned to face him, her eyes drawn into his. The moonlight made his eyes glimmer like twin stars—it was almost hypnotic, as if something otherworldly stirred behind them.

“Who are you, Bryon Genet?” she asked.

He smiled, the corners of his lips curving with quiet affection. “You said my name earlier,” he replied, “just after God whispered a word to you.”

She blinked, confused—then remembered the word that had echoed in her spirit.

“Angelus,” she whispered. “Oh my…”

Bryon nodded gently, his smile filled with warmth.

“I was told you likely wouldn’t remember your past life,” he said. “He said it was for the best—because you hold on too tightly to the past. Especially the mistakes that He has long since forgiven.”

His words pierced through her soul. Tears welled in her eyes. She didn’t know how, but she knew he was right. Everything in her heart aligned with his words. Everything he’d said earlier—it was all true.

“Bryon... I—” she began, her voice trembling.

But he shook his head gently. “Say nothing, Jilona. Just say you’re ready to move forward.”

The tears slipped down her cheeks. “Yes,” she said, her voice cracking, “I want to move forward.”

“Then forward we shall go,” he said.

And then he kissed her—deeply, passionately—as the stars bore witness, and the night wrapped around them like a promise.

Epilogue

Six months later, Byron had given Jilona an old book that was worn at the edges and its leather cover softened by time. A book that explained all to Jilona.

It was a diary written in 1899 by one Josette Du Marque, a Free Woman of Color.

In the diary, Josette tells of a divine gift that God had given to her. An ability to deeply feel the emotions of not just those she knew, but strangers too. Over time, the gift deepened, allowing her to sense not only feelings but the thoughts wrapped in those emotions. It was a beautiful burden, her calling.

Her gift led her to Nicholas Warren, a preacher from England. But Nicholas was no ordinary man. He was an angel—sent by God to walk the Earth for a time. The two fell in love and secretly married.

For five years they were together until Nicholas was called back to Heaven. Josette was heartbroken, but understood and said goodbye to him.

As Jilona turned the final pages, flashes of memory stirred within her—visions not from imagination, but remembrance. Her hands trembled as she realized the truth.

She was Josette Du Marque. Reborn.

Given a second chance by God—not just to live, but to fully embrace life with the man that she dearly loves: Byron Genet/Nicholas Warren/Angel – Mahanaim.

Byron entered the sitting room, quiet and graceful, and settled beside her on the velvet couch.

“Well, Belle Âme?” he asked gently.

Jilona looked up from the book, her voice soft. “It explains a lot. But I still have one question.”

“Yes, Belle Âme?”

“How long have you been watching me and how did you know where to find me?”

Byron smiled, warm and knowing.

“I wasn’t watching you,” he said. “But God was. He always has been. When I arrived in town on business and received the invitation to the Golden Ball is when God revealed that you were there. He told me about the shoes that you had been admiring and suggested that I buy them for you. However, the dress, the accessories and the invitation were my idea. I wanted you to see how beautiful you are and you are indeed beautiful – inside and out”

“And the invitation to the Blessed and Glam event at Road of Faith Church?”

Bryon smiled, “My idea also”

“Why do I get the feeling that you spoiled me in our past life?” Jilona asked with a smile.

Bryon grinned and then took Jilona’s hand and kissed it.

“You are worth more to me than all the diamonds in the world”

And with that, they kissed.

Finn just graduated from highschool in the inner city of Nueva Sevilla. As he enters the college in his civil engineering course, he gets elected as Class Mayor. Knowing that he is an introvert and needs to come out of his shell, will he ever fulfill his role?