He stole my name. Then he tried to steal my life. But he’ll never steal my heart will he?” When August Hale, a quiet literature student with a past he tries to forget, transfers to a prestigious university under a scholarship, all he wants is to stay invisible, graduate, and move on. But his plan falls apart the moment he discovers another student on campus using his exact full name. Same name. Same birthday. Same hometown. But this August Hale is wealthy, charming, and cruel and he already knows too much. At first, August thinks it’s a prank. A coincidence. Until he starts losing things His place in classes His reputation His identity The fake August Hale, whose real name is Sebastian Wolfe, is playing a dangerous game. And when he sets his sights on the real August, obsession begins to blur the line between identity theft and romantic fixation. August wants answers. Sebastian wants August. But as August begins to dig into Sebastian’s past, he unearths something much darker than he expected a twisted reason why Sebastian chose him and why he can’t let him go.
Lihat lebih banyakThe first thing August noticed was how the receptionist frowned at his student ID like it was counterfeit.
“You said your name was… August Hale?”
August nodded, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his sweater to keep them from shaking. “Yeah. I got the scholarship email last month. I’m supposed to be assigned dorm 3C.”
The receptionist looked back at the screen. Clicked. Paused. Clicked again.
Then, with a confused smile, she said, “Well, that’s strange. August Hale already checked in yesterday.”
August blinked. “I I just arrived. That’s impossible.”
She tilted the monitor slightly toward him. On the screen was a check in list, and sure enough, next to August Hale was a timestamp. His name, already signed in. His dorm key issued. His photo… but it wasn’t his.
“That’s not me,” he said slowly. “That’s not my picture.”
She leaned forward, squinting. “Oh… it does look different.” Her smile faltered. “But the system says everything’s already been processed. I’ll have to call the office.”
August stepped aside, heart thudding, pulse climbing in his throat like a panic attack waiting to drop. He hadn’t come here to be seen. He hadn’t even told anyone from his old life where he was going not after everything that happened.
It took three years to claw his way out of that place.
Three years to build a new self.
And now someone was wearing his name like it belonged to them.
Fifteen minutes later, he stood awkwardly outside the dorm building, gripping the backup keycard they’d reluctantly given him while the mix up was being “investigated.” His new dormmate hadn’t arrived yet according to the system but that wasn’t what kept his spine tight and his chest hollow.
It was the thought: Someone got here before me. Someone who pretended to be me.
He pushed open the door to 3C and stepped inside.
It smelled like clean linen and citrus spray. The space was neat, minimalist, two beds on opposite walls. One bed was untouched. The other had already been claimed. Books stacked. Clothes folded. A framed photo faced away from view.
On the desk sat a thin silver laptop its screen still glowing.
August approached it, cautious, as if it might burn him. He knew he shouldn’t, but curiosity scratched louder than fear. He tapped the touchpad.
The screen lit up.
Welcome back, August Hale.
His breath caught.
That was his desktop background. The one he used on his old computer back home.
A photo of the ocean at night.
Waves, dark and endless, crashing against jagged rocks.
He stepped back, heart hammering. This wasn’t a mistake.
This was personal.
The knock came at midnight.
August had been lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, muscles tight beneath the blanket.
The door creaked open without a word.
A tall figure stepped in. Broad shouldered. Dressed in black.
And the moment their eyes met, August’s stomach flipped.
The stranger’s gaze lingered too long. Intimate. Too knowing.
He smiled slowly. Like he’d been waiting.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and smooth. “Weird meeting like this.”
August sat up. “You
You’re the one who”
“Yeah. August Hale, right?” The stranger held up a student ID with a smirk. “What a coincidence.”
August’s mouth went dry. “That’s my name.”
“No,” the stranger said softly, stepping closer. “It’s mine now.”
Then, tilting his head:
“But if it bothers you, you can call me Sebastian.”
Ash exhaled slowly. “Then we wait.”They did.The cold settled into their bones. Wind hissed across the water.Minutes passed.Then an hour.Ash paced. August sat on a half-buried log, heart thudding. It wasn’t just the fear of Sebastian that stirred in him now it was the overwhelming weight of memory. This was the place where he had once felt most alive. And now, it felt haunted.Just as he was about to stand, a voice echoed from the trees.“Always so punctual.”August’s breath caught.Ash turned, fists clenched.Sebastian stepped out of the woods as if the forest had opened its jaws and let him through. He wore black, always black, but he looked… different. Less polished. More raw.His eyes locked on August immediately. “I didn’t think you’d come.”“I didn’t think you’d crawl out of your grave,” August said quietly.Sebastian smiled. “Is that what this place is to you? A grave?”“It’s where I lost myself.”Sebastian walked forward, slow, deliberate. “No. This is where you were rebo
The silence after his outburst was sharp enough to cut.Chris stared at him for a long time, then slowly nodded. “Okay. Then prove it.”August blinked. “What?”Chris reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver key. “Here. The spare. Take it back.”August stared at it. The key glinted under the ceiling light.He took it.His hands were shaking.“I’ve never used it,” Chris said. “I wouldn’t even come in if you were asleep, and you know that.”August did know. Deep down, he did.But fear had a way of blurring lines between memory and paranoia.“I’m sorry,” he whispered.Chris nodded once. “I get it.”That night, Ash stayed over. They took turns staying awake, watching the door, the windows, the hallway.“I keep thinking it’s over,” August said softly around 3 a.m., curled under a blanket on the couch. “Then he finds a new way to crawl back.”Ash didn’t answer right away. He sat on the floor beside the couch, head resting against the armrest.“I don’t think he ever left,” Ash fi
By morning, Chris returned with coffee and groceries and a half-hearted smile. “You look like you fought God and lost.”August forced a laugh. “Just didn’t sleep.”He debated telling him about the envelope. About the hallway. But something in his gut whispered not yet. Chris was loyal, but loyalty didn’t mean safety.He noticed how Chris’s eyes lingered on the locked door. “Everything okay?”“Yeah,” August lied. “Just feeling off.”Chris nodded, but his mouth twitched like he didn’t believe it.Later that day, August received a message from the university’s ethics board. His case against Sebastian was still under review. Still.The attached document listed new evidence: screenshots of Sebastian’s fake identity registration, verified by IP logs. A timeline of falsified academic submissions. Testimonies. Even Ash had added another statement.It felt like something was moving forward.But that same email also said Sebastian had requested an in person hearing.August’s chest tightened.“O
The apartment still carried the scent of cinnamon from the tea Ash had made the night before. They’d stayed late, talked about nothing, and promised not to talk about Sebastian again.But promises didn’t stop ghosts from crawling out of the walls.When August unlocked his phone, the first thing he saw was an anonymous email no sender, no subject, just a single line:“You’re welcome for the silence.”He deleted it before reading it again. He didn’t want to give it weight. But the words burned anyway.Chris was gone when August entered the kitchen, probably out on a supply run. They’d been taking turns managing groceries and pretending life was normal.On the counter sat a white envelope with no name. August stared at it. It hadn’t been there last night.Slowly, he opened it.Inside was a printed photo. Grainy. Taken from a distance. It was him, sitting in the café two days ago, laughing with Ash.The timestamp was real.August’s stomach twisted.He dropped the envelope and backed away
A year passed.August Hale didn’t disappear. He didn’t change his name or vanish into another identity. He stayed exactly where he was on campus, in the same city, with the same friends who had walked through the fire with him.But everything was different.His once quiet blog had become a full-blown platform Real & Written where people submitted their stories of identity, self worth, and survival.The project was now backed by a major publishing house, and August spent his days editing, responding, and helping others say the things they’d once been too afraid to voice.He’d also become someone others recognized on the street not as a scandal, but as a writer who had survived something raw and come out brighter for it.Today, though, wasn’t about the project.Today was graduation.He stood at the edge of the crowd, adjusting his gown with one hand and shielding his eyes with the other. Ash was taking photos somewhere.Chris had already texted a blurry selfie from the podium. August s
August didn’t sleep that night.The images from Sebastian’s file spun endlessly in his mind fragments of someone who had tried so hard to wear August’s skin that he’d forgotten how to live in his own. There was no neat bow to tie it all together. No final line that made it all make sense.But maybe that was the point.In the early hours, just as dawn started to bleed into the sky, August opened his laptop and began to write. Not a report. Not an article. Not even a blog post. It was a letter.To himself.He didn’t hold back. He wrote about fear, about loss, about being stripped of a name and having to claw his way back to it. He wrote about Ash his constant and Chris, and even Daniel. He wrote about pain and how it changed shape, and about how sometimes, the people who hurt you the most are the ones who once saw you most clearly.He wrote until the sun lit up the floor.Later that day, he published the letter.He didn’t name Sebastian. Didn’t rehash the drama. He just told the truth
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