Flawed Perfection Novels & Stories

he says playfully, placing his forehead against my shoulder, and making me chuckle. "I'm sorry... Nate, I'm not perfect. There are many flaws to me. Flaws that you may not like. I'm sorry, but I just." I say as I pull away. "Maybe we just need to give it time. We'll just have to wait and see. Only time will tell if we are meant for each other." I say as I cup his face and place a small kiss on his lips.

Suddenly, I felt a lump in my throat, I have let myself go, now I don't care how true my words are. Everything I've said is like describing myself, many people would be pointing at me, people are too cruel and they don't make mistakes. I'm the type of woman who takes advantage of the rich, because I want the money, because I have chosen the easy way and because I'm a fraud, nothing about me is true. I'm not the girl I really want to be. "Gisela..."

And the reality, as bitter as coffee, seeped through, leaving a stain that no brush could ever cover. So here I am, staring at that ridiculous painting, wondering how I ever fell for such a perfect imperfection.

I wanted to punch each and everyone of them in their faces. "Then, I just gave up. I started focusing on my career and stuff and now here I am, having no clue how to be in a relationship," she finished with a sigh and I was finally starting to understand her better and it only made me fall for her even harder. Fuck, she was perfect. "Say something. Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked with a confused look on her face and I just shook my head. "I just can't believe that there are guys out there not wanting something that I would kill for," I whispered, resting my forehead against hers and she let out a shaky breath.

It is not the happy ever after as portrayed in the movies but a facade. Love is a weapon of weakness that is only of benefit to those who seek to exploit it. “Miss Waters.” Carlos called. No response. “Miss Waters.” No response. “Miss Ivy Waters!” He called with a loud voice, pulling her out of her thoughts. Ivy jerked at the sound of his voice. She didn't realize she had been so lost in her own little world. Whatever the case, she didn't feel guilty or embarrassed for it. Still, she had to play the part.

Her voice was light and playful because it had to be. Ethan laughed, leaving a kiss on her temple. "Of course, love. You just need more sleep." But sleep wasn't the problem. Reality was. The house, the life, the husband-it was all too perfect. And perfection, she was starting to realize, was its kind of prison. --- The scent of freshly ground coffee and toasted bread filled the kitchen, blending with the crisp morning air. Ethan sat at the breakfast table, reading the newspaper as he always did, a portrait of effortless domesticity. A plate of eggs and fruit waited for Lena, prepared exactly as she liked.

Because, he was the one who committed them, so who would know them better than himself? He sighed and asked her to continue reading. Next card read: You know, I thought I'm the best. That I'm unbeatable... Next card: That there's nothing I can't do. Next card: I've started to believe that I'm perfect. Next card: I thought I've mastered the art of perfection. Next card: But I only had an inflated sense of myself. Guess, I'm not that perfect. Next card: In fact, I'm one extremely flawed human being.

“That boy has made some bad choices in his life, but I’ve been very proud of him these last few months. I never thought I’d see the day that my sons would repair their relationship. You know that’s down to you, don’t you?” He asks warmly, an affectionate twinkle in his eye. “Oh, don’t say that. I’m so tired of getting credit for things that just so happened to occur in my general vicinity.” I complain, slumping back and rubbing my full belly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the compliments… I just… perfection is an impossible thing to live up to… and I am so far from perfect it’s laughable. I don’t want to end up with a reputation that I’m destined to fall short of – I’m only human after all.”

I chuckled nervously. He smiled subtly and looked into my eyes, “there’s something wrong with everyone in this world, princess, but that doesn’t make them any less of a person. Having flaws is better than being fake. No one is perfect and they don’t have to be perfect. I find the imperfections about a person more attractive than their whitewashed version of themselves.” “Really?” “Yeah, you see. We say we need to find a mate or a soulmate to complete us. Why do you think fantasies like this exist? Why do you think we feel incomplete in the first place?”

Because I had spent my entire life surviving inside systems that pretended to be perfect institutions, families, organizations, all claiming flawless operation while hiding fundamental flaws. And I knew one truth better than anyone, deeper than any training or conditioning could teach. Perfection doesn't hesitate, not ever. The moment it does, It's already broken, already compromised beyond recovery. I didn't rush toward that weakness immediately, didn't attack the opening with aggressive force. Didn't attack at all in that instant. Because this wasn't about speed anymore, not about who could move fastest or hit hardest. This was about timing, about choosing the exact right moment to exploit