Imperfect の小説・ストーリー

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.” A moment after the words leave my mouth, I realize they aren’t true. “I mean, not human, but I’m just a person like everyone else.”

‘So impatient’ ‘You will learn how impatient I can be once I rip that asshole to shreds. Get here now!’ he demands, then cuts us off. “Be careful,” he said. His lips crashed down on mine, but I felt nothing—no spark, no warmth, just an empty sensation that left me feeling disconnected. I waited for the spark, the flutter in my chest, but it never came. Instead, his lips felt stiff, so cold and utterly wrong.

I smothered the doubts in my chest again and again, forcing myself to believe it was just an act, nothing more. However, I never imagined that once the first crack appeared in the heart, the dam would burst faster than you ever thought it could.

He was so arrogant! "Have you ever considered that maybe you overestimate your abilities? I need something stronger than beer to put up with this." I groaned in frustration. A mischievous smile appeared on one side of his mouth. "What are you thinking?" "You said something stronger..." "Stop it. You're really a pervert." "Whiskey... that's an acceptable answer since you want to play the Puritan." "Puritan? Is that what you call women who reject you?" "This game has just begun, and soon it will be you begging me to touch you."

Damon uttered, the reality of the truth hung heavy between them, the tension palpable as Neah's sobs loudly echoed in the room. " I'm sorry Neah, but I am so imperfect for you"

“Why would I want you to leave me? I might be an asshole but I’m not stupid.” “Are you sure?” I deadpanned, screwing my eyes. Mir cut his gaze at me, probably wondering why I was acting so weird. Despite the fire burning in his eyes, I remained calm. “If you’re not stupid, then why ask a stupid question?” When Mir only appeared more aggravated and bewildered, I sighed deeply in my chest. “I couldn’t leave, Mir. I couldn’t because...” I swallowed, my cheeks suddenly too hot for my own good. Was it alright to...say it? “...because no one is perfect. You have a past that makes you imperfect. And my imperfection is that I’m willing

not the version I chose to be. “I don’t want perfect,” I said. The words came out stronger. I want real.” The space cracked. not fully. but enough. because that broke something. Something it couldn’t resolve. the perfect version of me paused. for the first time. because now it wasn’t complete. It wasn’t aligned. It wasn’t right. The white shifted. Violently. because now it was losing control. losing certainty. losing definition. “You choose instability,” it said. The voice sharper now. less certain.

“But not perfectly.” “Doesn’t have to be perfect.” “It does if it’s going to fool this.” Matteo points at the projection. “Yeah, that thing does not look like it falls for half measures.” Aidan nods slightly. “He’s right.” I don’t like that answer. “Then make it believe the imperfection is intentional,” I say. That gets his attention. “How.” “You said it adapts to patterns,” I continue. “So give it one. Show it controlled instability.”

Stolen moments with my husband. Imperfect. Messy. Exhausting. And absolutely perfect exactly as it was.