“Tell me I’ll never have to be afraid,” I whispered.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t correct me.

You just smiled — that same crooked, painful smile you wear when you want to save someone, even if you’re the one sinking.

“Alright,” you said softly, “you’ll never be afraid.”

And I believed you. Because sometimes, the most beautiful things in this world are the ones that aren’t real — but we hold onto them anyway.

We met in the middle of a thousand little moments that didn’t seem important at the time. A half-smile at a café. A shared glance on a rainy Tuesday. That awkward conversation that somehow lasted three hours. There was no firework show, no dramatic music playing in the background. Just the kind of stillness that feels like home.

And suddenly, I couldn’t remember what silence felt like without your voice in it.

There were nights when the world got too loud for me — when fear crept in wearing a thousand disguises: deadlines, doubts, memories I hadn’t made peace with.

And I would turn to you, like a child reaching for light in a blackout.

That’s when you would say the words I needed most:

None of those words came with a guarantee. But you said them anyway. And I believed them anyway. Because sometimes, lies wrapped in love are kinder than truths spoken with distance.

You loved me in languages I didn’t even speak.

In playlists that somehow knew my heart better than I did.

In showing up. Even when I pushed you away.

You never asked me to be less broken, less loud, less… complicated.

You just asked me to be there. And that, I could do.

feel like — so we stop settling for versions that don’t feel like home.

You left with a quiet sadness. Like a book closing before the final chapter. Like a song fading out mid-chorus.

“I hope someone gives you the forever I couldn’t.”

But all I wanted was your lie — the one where you’d wait forever.

Even now, I sometimes wake up reaching for you.

I still hear your voice in songs you never heard.

I still imagine what it would be like if the world gave us one more “what if.”

But a love that lived between the lines of truth and fiction.

A love that didn’t need to last forever to be real.

If I saw you again, just once, I wouldn’t ask for the truth.

Tell me you waited, even if you didn’t.

Tell me I was enough. Even when I wasn’t.

Because the most heartwarming kind of love?

The one that lets us believe in the impossible — even just for a little while.

Because sometimes, the lies we whisper with love aren’t lies at all.

They’re the poetry we needed to keep going.

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If this story reminded you of someone you still dream about… maybe send it to them. Or maybe just hold it close, like a secret your heart still carries.

Lie to Me Beautiful” — A Love Letter to the Ones We Keep Holding Onto

A romantic story that feels like a rainy-night confession and the last page of your favourite book.

“Tell me I’ll never have to be afraid,” I whispered.

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t correct me.

You just smiled — that same crooked, painful smile you wear when you want to save someone, even if you’re the one sinking.



Lie to Me Beautiful” — A Love Letter to the Ones We Keep Holding Onto

A romantic story that feels like a rainy-night confession and the last page of your favourite book.

About the Creator

Angela David

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