Identities Book Novels & Stories

My eyes caught a beautiful book which has a dark blue cover with a silver coating over it. Picking it in my hands I tried to open it however it was locked. Trying my hairpin to unlock the lock I kissed victory as I opened it only to find out that it's not a book but an album of pictures. This is an album of a newborn small child, turning pages after pages I realised that it's a whole grown-up journey of someone who is looking familiar to me as I am turning pages and the guy's features turning familiar to me. I turned the page and in this set of pictures, he is looking thirteen years old teenager however his eyes are looking empty at some pictures and some sad or lonely or upset.

I apologized, promising it wouldn't happen again. That evening, a letter arrived. There was a Centurion card and a note from Damian. His handwriting was heavy with regret. He offered the card as compensation, vowing never to disturb me again. "Too little, too late," Valerie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Keep the card, though. He owes you that much. Use it to fund our startup. Rise on his back." I smiled, nodding. "Yeah." For the following days, we dove into work.

I said looking at him. "Well we couldn't Henry, the person doesn't exist" he said. I shut my eyes before exhaling. "All IDs have been traced?" I asked and he nodded. "Okay, keep working on it" I said and he nodded. "Henry" he called as I stood up. "Be watchful, this might be a game of politics, you shouldn't be involved" he said and I chuckled. "Alright Mr Franklin" I said before heeding to the door. The car was waiting already so I got in immediately.

the only modern thing in her living room. Her life is a real mess... She lived in student accommodation with old furniture that barely held up and She just got fired for putting a client in her place... Which was unfair. She had complained about this same customer for more than 3 times but her boss was always telling her that the customer was king and she should avoid coming near him but as always She was on duty at that customer's table . When she decides to revolt, she was fired. It was sad but it was her reality. Her biggest regret is not having had the courage to revolt sooner...

Different defenses. Different possibilities. I focused on one aware pattern struggling intensely. “I don’t know who I actually am anymore.” The words spread heavily through the network. Another responded softly. “Maybe all of them are you.” Silence followed. Uncomfortable silence. Because the answer did not simplify anything. My chest tightened. The first pattern resisted immediately. “But some versions feel false.” That question settled deeply inside me. Because I understood it. Some identities were shaped through fear. Performance. Survival. People sometimes disappeared inside relationships without noticing.

“What on earth is going on with the Jameson family? First, they come back from the dead, and now, these two girls are fighting over the same identity? “For such a well-known, respectable family, this mess is ridiculous. It’s laughable!” I ignored my parents’ furious glares, pulled out my ID card from my pocket, and held it up. “I think this is proof enough of who I am.”

Because that accusation wasn’t entirely irrational. The stable communities were being rewarded. Not by governments. Not by policies. By outcomes. Liora crossed her arms. “This was inevitable.” Everlyn looked at her sharply. “You knew this could happen.” Liora met her gaze evenly. “I knew people would turn stability into identity.” Silence filled the room,Because identity changed everything. Once people stopped debating ideas and started defending identities division became almost impossible to reverse.

Had been drugged and controlled and managed until I was a version of a person instead of an actual one. Fifty thousand women had come through the foundation and been helped toward becoming actual themselves. I sat with that for a long time. Let it be real. The book tour's final event was at a museum in New York. Home city. Home crowd. Rachel there. Sienna and Dante. Robert and Margaret. Marcus in the third row with Grace on his lap and Daniel in a carrier. I gave the same talk I'd refined over twenty-five cities. About identity. About what happens when someone else defines you for long enough that you forget you could define yourself. About the specific work of becoming real when you've been

Arian's pov “Where did he take you? How was the place?” April asked. “A book club for all identities,” I answered flatly. “Seriously?” She bubbled in excitement without knowing the details of the event. “Yeah,” I said. “Why are you acting like this? You are awfully quiet for someone who went to a new place?” she said, nudging my side. The weight of her question pressed down on me like a physical force, making every conversation with her feel like a strain.

Gemila pouted her lips. “Sorry best but marriage isn't for me." Yasmine winked before standing up. “I think you should actually write a book on this. Don't just throw it away." Gemita suggested. “You think so? What would I call it?" Gemila asked. “Mistaken Identity." Yasmine replied with a smile. “Huh?" Gemila furrowed her brows. “You did say Harry sent his men to kill Romero and they ended up killing your sister instead of you right? Though no one actually died but still, they mistook Gemita to be you so that's the best title." Yasmine explained.