Liliana Pavel Quotes in I Must Betray You
Chapter 6 Quotes
“Cristian,” she suddenly whispered. “Do you ever wonder . . . if any of it’s real?”
“If what’s real?”
“The things we see in videos—in American movies.”
It was an odd question. Or maybe it felt odd because I had wondered the same thing but never had the courage to say it out loud. But it also felt . . . suspicious somehow. Too honest.
Chapter 19 Quotes
I gently wrapped my arms around her.
She pulled me closer and pressed against me, placing the side of her face on my chest. We held each other. Soundless yet somehow boundless. And in that quiet moment, all hardship melted away. For once, the shadows weren’t gloomy. They were private. Holding Liliana, alone in the stillness of that dark apartment, feeling her breathe, it was everything.
I had everything.
I closed my eyes, held on to the moment—and for once, thanked the heavens for the darkness of communism.
Chapter 69 Quotes
They pushed us into a room with long tables and benches. The guard ordered us to sit, locked the door, and left. Facing me, next to the door, were two framed portraits. One featured Mother Elena and the other, a one-eared Ceauşescu. I stared at their faces.
We had no food or freedom.
Because of them.
We were surrounded by spies and torturers.
Because of them.
We had no trust.
Because of them.
I couldn’t look at the portraits. I grabbed them from the wall and tossed them in the corner.
I turned to the kids.
“Dracula is a fictional character created by some Irish author. Dracula has no connection to our history,” I said.
“We know that,” replied the sister.
“And Romanians are brilliant people. Some are Nobel Prize winners!” I yelled.
“Why are you saying this?”
“Because we’re not shit. Do you hear me? We’re more Romanian than those guards are!”
The room fell still. A pulse of emotion pushed at my hoarse throat. “No matter what they do or say, we’re better than this.”
Chapter 70 Quotes
“You see, even out here in the street, you’re paranoid to be speaking with your own father! You’ve become a man without a voice. Mistrust. It’s insidious. It causes multiple personality syndrome and rots relationships. At home, you’re one person, speaking in whispers. Outside, on the street, and standing in lines at the shops, you’re someone else. Tell me, who are you?”
Bunu’s question lingered. Who are you?



