Lovers and Liars

Chapter 9: Emylia

It was always just me. And yet, it was never just me.

Every morning, I woke up with a sense of dread, wondering which of us would take control today. Would it be the Lover, with her soft eyes and open heart, who craved connection like a parched plant craves water? Or would it be the Liar, the one with the sharp mind and guarded heart, always ready to deflect, to twist, to deceive? They were two halves of a whole, coiled together like strands of DNA, inseparable yet always at odds.

The Lover, she dreamed of fairy tales. She wore her heart on her sleeve, believing that if she was kind enough, if she gave enough of herself, then surely someone would see her worth. She'd walk around campus with a hopeful smile, trying to catch Daniel's eye, trying to be noticed. Every glance he spared her was like a gift, every word from his lips a treasure. She saw the world as a canvas splashed with color, full of possibilities and hidden wonders. She wanted to be loved, needed to be loved, like she needed air to breathe.

And then there was the Liar. She was the darker side of the coin, the voice of reason—or maybe just the voice of fear. She whispered caution into every interaction, analyzing every word, every look. The Liar knew that the world wasn't painted in bright colors but in shades of gray. People wore masks, hid their true intentions. She had learned this the hard way. Trust was a weakness, vulnerability a trap. The Liar kept us safe, kept us from falling apart. She watched the Lover make the same mistakes over and over, and each time, she stepped in to pick up the pieces, to make sure the walls around our heart were built back higher and stronger.

Most days, they wrestled for control, their battle playing out in the smallest gestures, the most fleeting thoughts. A laugh that was a little too loud, a smile that felt forced, a heartbeat that quickened at the sight of Daniel's name. It was like living on a tightrope, balancing between what I wanted and what I feared, between hope and cynicism. Every step I took was weighed down by their voices in my head, pulling me in opposite directions.

But now, after everything that had happened, it felt like something had shifted. That night at the party, when I kissed Daniel, it wasn't just the Lover who leaned in, who closed her eyes and felt the warmth of his breath. The Liar was there too, aware of every flicker of his eyes, every twitch of his muscles. She had scanned the room, noted every exit, every face that turned our way. The Lover wanted to get lost in the moment, but the Liar was already planning our escape. They were both there, for once not fighting but working together, two sides of the same coin.

The world spun that night, not just because of the alcohol but because of the truth that was settling in. When the room blurred and my body felt heavy, when I knew something was wrong but couldn't figure out what, the Liar took over. Her instincts kicked in, dragging me out of the party, away from the music and the lights. The Lover was disoriented, frightened, but the Liar was sharp, focused. She knew we had to leave, had to get away. Survival took precedence over everything else.

In the days that followed, as I searched for Daniel, as I tried to piece together what had happened, the lines between them began to blur even more. The Lover wanted to find him, to talk to him, to understand. She replayed the kiss in her mind, over and over, each time hoping it would feel different, more real. The Liar wanted answers too, but for a different reason. She wanted to know who had drugged us, who had seen us vulnerable, who had taken advantage. It was a mixture of fear and anger, a desire to protect ourselves at all costs.

And then there was the moment in the library, when I saw him across the room, leaning in close to another girl. It felt like a punch to the gut, like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. I froze, every muscle tensed, and for a moment, I didn't know which of us would react. The Lover felt her heart shatter, the betrayal like a physical pain. The Liar felt the sting of humiliation, the shame of having been played. But neither of them moved. We just stood there, watching, feeling the weight of the truth settle in.

They were both silent as I turned and walked away, my feet carrying me out of the library, out into the cool night air. I felt hollow, like a shell, the voices in my head finally quiet. It was just me, Emylia, for the first time in so long, with no Lover to dream, no Liar to scheme. Just me and the darkness, the stars overhead, and the sound of my own heartbeat echoing in my ears.

I realized then that they had always been me, both of them. They weren't separate entities but facets of my own mind, my own heart. The Lover with her dreams and the Liar with her fears, they were just reflections of the battles we all face every day. The struggle between wanting to be open, to be seen, and the need to protect ourselves, to stay safe. It was a balancing act, a dance between vulnerability and strength, hope and caution. They were my guardians, my warriors, each one trying to guide me in their own way.

As I walked back to my dorm, the cool breeze brushing against my skin, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I didn't have to choose between them. I could be both. I could be kind and strong, loving and guarded, hopeful and wary. I could want to be loved without letting myself be hurt. I could protect myself without closing off my heart entirely. I could be Emylia, a name that held both the Lover and the Liar, the girl who had always been both and never realized it.

People would see what they wanted to see. Some would see the Lover, vulnerable and kind, others would see the Liar, sharp and intimidating. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that I saw myself, all of myself, and I was learning to be okay with that. To be enough for myself.

As I looked up at the stars, their light cutting through the darkness, I took a deep breath, feeling the night fill my lungs. For the first time, I felt whole. I was the dreamer and the realist, the heart and the mind, the one who loves and the one who lies. I was a chaos of personas and ideas and feelings, and that was okay.

I am Emylia.

And I am enough.