All Chapters of It Started With A Lie, And Ended With Us.: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

“Get ready.”His voice sliced through the air like a blade—calm but commanding, the kind of tone you don’t question. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t have to be. There was weight behind it. Power. Presence. The kind that stiffens your spine even before your brain catches up.“Me?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. As if the silence had swallowed up my confidence.But deep down, I already knew the answer. He wasn’t talking to anyone else.Justin’s eyes locked with mine across the room. There was something unreadable in his gaze. Not harsh. Not soft. Just...intense. My pulse fluttered beneath my skin, but I straightened my back and swallowed the nerves bubbling in my chest.“Get ready,” he said again, firmly, and ended the call without breaking eye contact.No explanation. No reassurance. Just that one line and the heavy sense that something important was coming.I opened my mouth to ask where we were headed, what I needed to prepare for, but he spoke again, cutting off my thou

I stood before my small mirror, staring at my oddly boyish reflection. The dim lighting cast faint shadows across my face, accentuating the unfamiliar angles and sharpness that never truly belonged to me. For a moment, I couldn’t even remember who I was.Because I wasn’t really me. This—this reflection staring back at me—was a working copy of a guy who never should have existed. A façade I crafted, a person I invented and carefully molded, until everyone around me believed in the illusion.And when all of this is over… what will become of me? What happens when I have to erase this identity and vanish into the shadows again? What will happen to Justin, who will suddenly lose a friend he’s found in me?My heart clenched tightly in my chest, as though gripped by an unseen hand. The pain that resonated through it made me wince, sharp and aching, like a wound I couldn’t see but felt with every breath.I didn’t know what it would be like for him—losing me. But I knew all too well what it wo

Something hurts.I felt it, yet I couldn’t quite tell what exactly was hurting. It was like an ache that ran so deep, even pain itself seemed confused. My brows squeezed together as I forced my eyes open, and the first thing I saw was his frozen, unreadable gaze.Justin.My breath hitched.I went completely rigid, frozen for several seconds before I was able to snap out of whatever trance his gaze had pulled me into. There was something about the way he looked at me—like he was both seeing me and searching through me. My heart thudded painfully, my chest tight.I parted my lips, trying to speak, trying to find something—anything—but he beat me to it, his voice calm but firm."Don’t stress your throat… have this first."He poured water into a glass, pulled out a brand-new straw from its wrapper, and handed the glass to me with such care it nearly made me cry. I didn’t argue. I didn’t fight it. I accepted the drink like my life depended on it, sipping the cool water with a hunger and th

I let out a long, shaky breath of relief after speaking with the nurse who had just helped me undress. She worked with calm efficiency, her hands gentle yet deliberate, as if she had done this a thousand times before. Strangely, she didn’t press me for explanations. She didn’t ask why I had chosen to disguise myself or pry into my reasons. It was as if she had already decided that whatever truth I carried, it wasn’t hers to demand.All she said, with a voice soft yet edged with caution, was,"Be careful out there. Not everyone you meet will see the good side of your intentions."Her eyes lingered on me for a moment — not in suspicion, but in quiet understanding.I nodded. Of course I did. What else could I do? Words felt inadequate. I thanked her sincerely, grateful for her silence and the unspoken trust she offered by not prying further.That evening, the doctor signed my discharge papers. With his permission, I was finally allowed to go home. Still, he advised much rest, minimal exe

Justin served the steaming porridge in the small dining section of the room. The soft aroma curled in the air, teasing my empty stomach. I went ahead and sat down, folding my hands in my lap as I waited. He moved with quiet precision in the kitchen, finishing up whatever last touches he had in mind.When he finally emerged, he untied the apron from his waist and hung it over the back of a chair. Without a word, he walked over and sat across from me. The faint scrape of his chair against the floor seemed loud in the silence that wrapped around us.We ate without speaking. I already knew it would be good—Justin had that calm confidence that only good cooks had—but I didn’t know it would be this good. Each spoonful carried warmth, not just from the temperature but from something deeper… something almost familiar. Apart from Nanny Patricia’s food, I couldn’t remember the last time a home-cooked meal tasted this right.It was like biting into a memory I didn’t realize I’d been starving for