روايات وقصص ضمن Imperfect Books

“My Forever Love” I guess there was truth in the saying if life were perfect, it would be boring. I watched her walk towards Blake. She sat on his lap, weaved her hands around his neck, and kissed him on his lips. It was not just a kiss, she molded her mouth into him, and my eyes flicker, mouth open as I thought he answered that passionate kiss. I stopped breathing and felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. Do you know the feeling that you can hear them, but you seem to be far away? It was exactly what I was feeling right now. I didn’t know it was possible to have that extreme pain yet not feel it.

The pressure made her tense, but she would not let it show. "I'll see you downstairs," he said, before heading out into the hallway. Lena let out a slow breath. Something wasn't right. It wasn't the forgotten memories themselves-it was how her mind still refused what she was being shown. If she had lived there, if this was her life, then why did she feel like a guest in her home? She had to know more. Without thinking, she walked to the bookshelves, running her eyes over the rows of tidily stacked books. Classic novels were in the majority, a few bestsellers. She ran her finger over the spines before settling on a photo album jammed between the books.

Tomorrow morning she would wash her face and put on some moisturizer and that would be that. Bedtime reading. No novels tonight. Tonight it would be her latest brokerage statement and how she could make things right for Hazel, for the Society group and possibly herself. She trembled with guilt and humiliation when she recalled her daughter's tone and the expression on her face. That had to be right up there with the moment when she'd confronted her husband about his infidelities and his so what attitude.

However, I did not hand it to her. Gritting my teeth, I pretended to lose my grip and spilled the boiling water all over her legs. I figured she would not be able to hold back and jump up in rage. I closed my eyes and silently counted, 'One, two, three...' Time passed, yet I did not feel the familiar fists crashing down on me. I opened my eyes and saw that Claire had not moved. Instead, she was still sitting perfectly upright in her wheelchair. Not only was she not angry at me, but she looked at me apologetically. "I'm so sorry, honey... I didn't catch it properly and spilled the water. Honey, did you burn your hand? That water looked really hot."

Oh, well, and the second, I kind of didn't pay attention in my classes today and I might have been absent-minded at work, stealing some time to myself to read and complete the second book breezily. The third and last book was the most complicated because of how high the stakes were, and let's not forget the numerous mind-fucks and plot twists. It was compelling, addictive and thought-provoking. "I must be boring you to death then," the proximity between my face and her mouth was sudden, eliciting a shriek from me. "Iris!" I snapped, sitting up. Her flawlessly made-up face had me furrowing my brows a little. She was all glammed like she had somewhere to be.

"Damian, what if Elise still doesn't lose the weight? Won't she be humiliated if I'm standing next to her at the wedding as her maid of honor, looking way prettier than she does?" Damian lowered his head and kissed her forehead, his voice low and lazy. "She has no right to feel humiliated. I already gave her more than enough chances. What man doesn't like a beautiful woman? I told her to lose weight so she could look better. What exactly did I do wrong?" Then, his expression hardened. "I'll just replace her if she still shows up at the wedding looking like a pig and humiliates me in front of everyone. She won't have anyone to blame but herself."

Not improved. Just… changing. Theodore’s voice is tight. “That looks like failure.” I shake my head slowly. “No…” Because I can feel it. Deep in the connection. “It’s not failing.” Aurelion’s light flickers sharply. “…It’s experimenting.” The First Imperfect Choice The pulse releases. Jagged. Unbalanced. Wrong in every way the system used to avoid. It hits the space between us and nothing breaks. Nothing evolves. Nothing improves. For a split second

"I am not good at this." "I know," I said. "I have not been good at this for three hundred years." "I know that too," I said. "I am going to be — imperfect at it," he said. The word imperfect from Zaron Draketh was the most vulnerable thing I had heard him say. More vulnerable than the confession about the curse. More vulnerable than knowing about the mate bond. Imperfect — said by a man who had built an entire kingdom on precision — was the equivalent of another person laying themselves completely open.

Mine had already drained away, replaced by something colder, heavier—worry. My thoughts spun as I stared out the window. I couldn’t keep clashing with him like this. That ridiculous book, The Perfect Wife, flashed through my mind—its chapters on handling dominant men. Softness. Vulnerability. Subtle rebellion. A woman with fire, but without the flames. Sweet enough to draw in. Dangerous enough to chase.

Still I didn't ran away , my pace wasn't hurried , I wished my mother would rush behind me . She didn't. She never does . After all it was her absolute humiliation and embrassment that she created some one so ugly and imperfect like me . I was nothing just an imperfect imitation and Once upon a pageant queen of every pageant of my mother wanted nothing more than to wipe this imperfection off her perfect family . Only she couldn't And neither could I.