Imperfect Books Novels & Stories

Series Order: Book 1- Loathing Logan Book 2- Still In Love With You Book 3- Loving Your Imperfections Mia I looked at myself in the body-length mirror in our room and sighed. I wasn't much into dressing up completely, so I wore a plain white tank top with a short ruffled black skirt and my high-top black converse. I wasn't much into make-up because then I'd forget and rub my face or something, smearing it like crazy, so I wore only a bit of mascara, and that was it.

I picked up the note on top of the book. “I thought these might be helpful for you,” I said, picking up the book and reading its title. “A tale of two.” The first title read, and I furrowed my eyebrows. That’s the most boring title I have ever heard. I was glad that in the last two years I was able to learn how to read. The last time I was in this room, I couldn’t even read the note threatening my life, but Maura helped me with my reading. That’s why I needed to go back. She was the mother I never had, a woman who was patient with me.

The chirping of birds added to Laura's blossoming mood as she reminisced about the first time she had met Aryan, their unconventional marriage contract, and now, the love that bound them together. Love was indeed peculiar; when you pursued it, it often eluded you, and when you walked away, it came offering happiness. Laura had once thought that she and Aryan would never fall in love because their separation had been written in black and white. But everything seemed futile as time and emotions played their roles, slowly seeping into the depths of their hearts. Love was indefinable in any dictionary; it truly reigned in the heart, speaking only the language of emotions.

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.

The curtains were closed after that, and the comments that popped up were all exclaiming in delight. "No wonder Austin's such a popular villain! Did you see how handsome he was in the morning light? Oh my god, I can't breathe properly." "I think I know why that transmigrator left in the end. Do you know how torturous it must have been for her in the past five years? "She had such a handsome man by her side, and yet, she wasn't allowed to touch him. I'd have given up a long time ago if I were her!" "Does anyone have the emoji sticker with the crotch on fire? Send it to me, please. I need it right now."

Just like life had been unfair to many people, would she say she was unfortunate to be among those people life was unfair to? But life didn't end. She had been told many times she was going to be fine. She had Nate. Who would turn the world around for her as long as she remained the perfect girlfriend. Many had none, but she had someone who loved her to the moon and back. And why is that? Because she was perfect. But was she really perfect? Would he stop loving her once he found out about her imperfections? Would she be as lonely as everyone else life had been unfair to… if he left her?

she continued, voice barely above the rain, “the only thing I was afraid of was never getting the chance to choose you again.” His chest tightened. “Lisa…!!” She reached for him then, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, not pulling him close….just anchoring herself. “I don’t want perfect,” she said. “I want honest. I want this—whatever this is—messy and real.” Grey rested his forehead against hers, breath mingling, rain blurring the space between them. “You have me,” he said. “No filters. No omissions. Even the parts I hate.”

"Sorry, but I can't read it." "Why not?" "I'm dyslexic," I state as if it should be obvious. Because it should be if teachers actually read about their students. Which he didn't. So that answers my question. "Miss Miracle, please do not lie," Mr. Asshole sighs again, clearly annoyed. He sure likes sighing. Before I can make a smart ass comment, Isaac steps in. Thank goodness, my brother, I love you! Not really. But like, thank you. "Mr. Prescott, she really is dyslexic. If you took time to read up on your students like you should, then maybe you would know that." So Mr. Prescott is his name. Nah, I like Mr. Asshole better.

Not a perfect story. A human one.

Almost perfect. Almost.