It's A Lie Novels & Stories

"I'm here to stay. That's if you let me. That's if you give me the chance to prove it." A painful, hollow laugh erupted from Bianca's chest—a sound so devoid of humor that it was almost worse than crying. "Here to stay," she repeated, tasting the words like poison on her tongue. They were familiar, those words. Comfortable. She had heard them before, whispered against her skin in the dark, promised in the aftermath of passion when everything had felt possible and eternal. And they had been a lie. She shook her head in painful denial, her hair falling across her face in disheveled strands. "You aren't," she said, her voice flat. "We both know the truth, so stop lying. Stop pretending that thi

She tried her best to quickly think of a good lie to tell right in front of her good friend Gloria. "O-Of course he does! Do you know how much stuff I have to throw away every time because he keeps changing partners and women?" Isaiah replied fast, mixing half truth with half lie to make it sound real and believable for Gloria. "I also have to check the full background and history of each and every woman he hooks up with. It is so tiring and exhausting all the time!"

"A little." "Same thing." "No. It is not. Nervous is a feeling. Lying is an action. I am not lying. I am omitting. There is a difference." "What is the difference." "Lying is saying something false. Omitting is not saying something true. I am not saying I am terrified. That is omitting." My mother laughed. "You are impossible." "I am possible. Just difficult." "I love you." "I love you too." "See you on Thursday."

Atif answered. "Hahaha. But why?" Aliyah asked. When Atif reads the reply of Aliyah he wants to say these words to her but he can't of course for Aliyah not to know that he is Atif using a fake account: "How would I believe in you when you said before that you are married." He wants to say that but he can’t. So Atif just type this message; "Because I have this feeling that you are just telling a lie to me." Atif said.

“Oh, so you’ve seen the papers, haven’t you?” “You said you were going to contact them to change it.” “I lied,” she answered carelessly. “You know, the same way you lied to Dylan Bass and told him my proposal was yours.” “That’s what this is about?” “What? You think I was just going to let you get away with pulling such a dirty trick? Of course, that’s what this is about? How does it feel to not be given the credit you deserve, Dominic? I bet it’s an amazing feeling.”

Something sharp. Cole’s hand curled into a fist so tight I could almost feel the crescent moons his nails carved into his skin. He forced a swallow, then a smile that looked more like it belonged to a predator about to strike. “Hello,” he said evenly, though his tone carried venom. “You’re late.” I shifted beside him, instinctively rubbing my arm. Wasn’t everyone else late? Cole had told me Lloyd was already here earlier in the day. Was that a lie? Did they still share a private connection—something twin-born and eerie?

His voice remains calm. Controlled. That somehow makes it worse. I stare out the glass windows of my office. The city stretches endlessly below. Busy. Loud. Alive. Meanwhile my heart suddenly feels too loud inside my chest. “You left,” I say quietly. Another pause. Then— “I did.” No excuses. No lies. No attempt to deny it. And somehow that annoys me even more. “You don’t get points for honesty now.” “I know that too.” God. Why does he sound like this?

Alexander asks. "What? No! Baby, I didn't do anything wrong." "But they're saying you did. They're saying you paid people to lie. That you stole money." "Those are lies. All of it." "Then why are people believing it?" "Because..." I stop. How do I explain this to an eight-year-old? "Because sometimes lies look like truth. And people believe what they want to believe." "I don't believe it," Davison says. "I know you didn't do those things."

"She's a pretty, empty doll my father made me marry. A political move to strengthen our position. Now, I'm finally free." Ice flooded my veins. Through the crack in the door, I saw him—my husband, "dead" for three months. He was caressing a blonde's face, his eyes full of a love he never showed me. Bianca Rosso. Daughter of our main rivals. "Honey, are you sure no one will find out?" Bianca was sitting on his lap, her fingers tracing the tattoo on his chest. The iris flower. He told me it was a symbol of our eternal love. A fucking lie.

I heard about Piero's recent life from other classmates. After that day, he and Vivian had a huge fight. He said he still loved me, wanted to divorce Vivian, and blamed her for keeping him from marrying me. Vivian was furious, blurting out that she never had cancer. It was all a lie to get him to marry her. When she went abroad and learned Piero was with me, she couldn't accept it. Knowing he'd liked her before, she crafted a lie, and it worked.