If We Were Perfect By Ana Huang [ Edge ]

"You’re late on your cue," Blake murmured, his voice like rough silk. He didn't look at her, instead focusing on the cufflinks she once bought him, still adorning his wrists.

Farrah felt the familiar sting of tears. Their love had always been a beautiful tragedy—too intense to handle, too deep to forget. "We weren't perfect, Blake. That was the problem. We tried to be masterpieces when we were just human." If We Were Perfect by Ana Huang

"And you’re still trying to control the world, Blake. Some things never change," Farrah retorted, adjusting the silk of her gown. She looked every bit the poised interior designer-turned-star, but her heart was hammering a rhythm only he had ever been able to provoke. "You’re late on your cue," Blake murmured, his

"Farrah," he whispered, breaking character as the orchestra swelled. "I spent years pretending I didn't need you to be whole. I built a kingdom just to realize it was empty without the person I built it for." Their love had always been a beautiful tragedy—too

As they stepped into the light, the audience vanished. There was only the heat of the stage lamps and the weight of five years of unsaid words. When Blake pulled her into the scripted embrace, his touch wasn't professional. It was desperate.