True Story In Life Novels & Stories

You already know the easy version is never the real one. I read it twice then I turned back to my desk. Deleted Draft 3 and opened a new document and began typing. "Some stories aren't about what happened. They're about who survived it and who's still trying to make sure they didn't." Cause right now, truth was the only currency I had.

The greatest adventure of my life had never been uncovering the truth. It was learning how to build an ordinary life with the extraordinary woman I loved.

You told one lie and then you couldn't stop telling more of them. But – oddly and incredibly – what Claire discovered was that telling the truth was exactly like that. Once you told one real, shining true thing, then you wanted to tell another one. Then another. Then you were tempted to just lay it all out, just go for total, hell-for-leather honesty. This was especially the case if you hadn't told the truth in a long time, the way that she hadn't. Truth was liberating, she thought as she lay next to Jack's naked body, and it was empowering, and after she'd told Jack one true thing, then she'd had a damn hard time stopping herself from telling him every single true thing that she knew.

I simply didn't want anything to do with the past anymore. Another spring came. I found a job in town as an assistant at a small law office. The pay wasn't high, but I could learn. The owner of the firm was Mr. Coleman, a lawyer in his forties. He knew my story. Not because I told him, but because he recognized me from the news. But he didn't ask. On my first day, he only said one thing. "In this line of work, evidence matters most. If you have evidence, you win. If you don't, you lose. It has nothing to do with whether you're a good person."

She creased her brow and bit her lip. "See, even someone as smart as you are, have to think it over when the answer is so obvious. You get the one you like; it's the one that will give you the most pleasure. If you concentrate on what the enemy has or is doing, you lose yourself in them. Every situation in life is different. The one common denominator is you. That means, in all things, be true to yourself. The best defense in life is doing and being who you want to be, not what someone else forces on you, and never waver." She seemed to be giving my words some thought. "What if I like the Bugatti Type 40?"

“Being true to yourself despite the pressure.” I stared at him, struck by the simplicity of his words. “That’s…surprisingly insightful for a bar conversation.” “I contain multitudes,” he joked, finishing his drink. “So what’s your story? Beyond escaping bad marriages and disappointing fathers?” “I’m rediscovering who I am,” I admitted. “Five years ago, I fled a horrible situation with nothing but the clothes on my back. What about you? Got any life-altering secrets to share with a stranger in a bar?”

Her shoulders trembled as she covered her face with her hands, muffling her quiet sobs. Zach had been paying her three thousand dollars a month—more than her husband ever earned. But who would willingly trade decades of freedom for a little extra money unless they had no other choice? "I can give you more," I said. "More than what he's offering. All I ask is that you persuade your husband to tell the truth—for his own sake and for my mother's justice. Your husband didn't do it in the first place. The real culprit is still out there, living freely."

He insisted I crouch by the door to listen to their voices. "On October 6th was Xavier's birthday. I summoned the courage to tell him the truth, but he said he would only listen if I finished all the cream on the cake on the table. He knew I was allergic to cream and couldn't eat any." ... The notebook contained records of events from nearly four years. With every page I read, my body temperature dropped, and countless images flashed through my mind, like someone stabbing me with a knife, causing excruciating pain. It was him, the man I dreamed about, Xavier Quinn.

At least I wouldn't have to witness their happy family of four and smell that nauseating mixture of scents. Memories flooded back like an uncontrolled tide. Alex and I had met when we were nobody special. I had supported him through his journey from an unknown programmer to a leading figure in the field of AI. For ten years, we had been the soulmates everyone in our circle envied. The first time, he was drugged by a business rival and slept with Brooke, who was just an intern then. He called me immediately, his voice shaking. "Em, I was set up! I swear on my integrity that this was the only time! I've handled everything cleanly. She'll never appear before us again!"

he asked. "The truth," I said. "The unvarnished, uncurated, messy, and painful truth." I gave him the combination. "It's his medical records from Switzerland. The police report from the foundation fire. The letter from his father that explains everything. The real story of the alley. It's all in there. It's not a fairy tale, and it's not a tragedy written by a jilted lover. It's just... life. The good, the bad, and the unforgivable."