All Chapters of His Untold Lies: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

AresThe villa was a flurry of movement, the air thick with the sound of snapping suitcases and frantic footsteps. We were supposed to be leaving. Instead, I stood outside the bathroom, my palms slick with sweat, staring at the closed door."Hon, are you okay in there? Do you need some help?" I asked, my voice tight. I hated how small the space felt. I hated that I couldn't see her."No," Kianna’s voice drifted through the wood, thin and reedy. "Wait. Actually… I don't feel right. My head… it’s spinning. My skin feels like ice, but I feel like I'm burning up. My heart—Ares, my heart is beating so hard I can’t catch my breath."The door creaked open. When she stepped out, the breath hitched in my throat. She was ghost-pale, her lips drained of all color, her eyes glassy and unfocused. I didn't wait for her to speak. I grabbed the nearest chair, pulling it toward her, and lowered her into it before she could collapse."Kia?" I reached out, my fingers brushing her cheek. She was clammy, c

KiannaThe house was too quiet. For days, the silence had been heavy, a stark contrast to the hospital’s sterile, rhythmic beeping. I’d been home for a week, and though Ares’s parents had pushed, pleaded, and tried every tactic to move me into their villa, I’d held my ground. I couldn't be a permanent fixture in their home—the embarrassment of being watched, coddled, and cared for like a delicate glass ornament was too much. They’d eventually relented, though they still treated my house like a second home, dropping by constantly with enough food to feed an army.I sat in the kitchen, the sunlight streaming across the counter, and stared at the clock. It was nearly lunch. My mind drifted back to a few days ago, the morning the routine had been shattered....The knock had come at six in the morning, sharp and persistent. I’d blinked awake, the room still dim, and realized the space beside me was empty. Ares was already up.I’d stumbled into the living room just in time to see him openin

KiannaThe air in the hallway felt heavy, thick with the scent of floor wax and the low hum of student chatter. A professor appeared, her expression tight and urgent. "The dean is ready," she said, cutting through the noise. "Follow me."My pulse quickened. The committee and I fell into step behind her. All around us, students pressed against the walls, their eyes tracking us with a mixture of curiosity and hushed whispers. My skin prickled. We reached the conference room, and the dean was already at the helm, waiting. We squeezed into chairs near the front, our hands tucked into our laps.A moment later, the doors swung open. The benefactors filed in—men and women draped in silk and sharp tailoring, smelling of expensive cologne and old money. They carried the weight of the university on their shoulders. We stood as one, heads bowed in respect."Welcome to the University of Cavite," I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my stomach.The lead donor nodded, his expression severe

KiannaNate stood by the bookshelves, his posture rigid, watching me as if he were waiting for the ceiling to collapse. His words hung in the stale office air, heavy and sharp. "I was right all along," he said, his voice cold. "Finding out you were suddenly married—it didn't make sense. Not after that night at the Shangri-La. You remember, don't you? You were shattered. You were sitting there, drinking bottle after bottle, sobbing like your world had ended. I was the one who sat with you, Kianna. I was the one who listened."I couldn't move. My lungs felt like they had been filled with liquid lead. The office blurred—the desk, the files, Nate’s intense, searching eyes—all of it distorted. My memory wasn't a library; it was a fire. I stood there, trapped in the suffocating silence, the realization hitting me with the force of a physical blow. The pieces were shifting, reassembling into a picture I wasn't ready to see....The lights of the Shangri-La were too bright, a garish, golden bl

The fluorescent lights of the office hummed, a low, persistent drone that seemed to vibrate against the back of my skull. Across the mahogany desk, Nathan sat with a posture that was almost too still. His eyes, usually sharp and professional, were softened by a strange, heavy intensity."Do you still remember, Kianna?" he asked. The question hung in the air, heavy and unbidden. "Do you remember who I am?"I gripped the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned a ghostly white. The name—Myst—brushed against my memory like a phantom. A sudden, sharp vertigo washed over me. I tried to anchor myself to the present, to the paperwork piled in front of me, but the silence stretched, thickening with every passing second. I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the echoes of a night I had long since pushed into the periphery of my mind. The night before everything changed. The night I met Ares."I..." My voice sounded thin, brittle. I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of