Perfect Novel Novels & Stories

~ Seraphina ~ The morning light in the Vale penthouse was always the same: cold, expensive, and unforgiving. It hit the white marble of the breakfast island with a clinical brightness that made my eyes ache. This was the "perfect" life I had curated for seven years—a museum of high-end finishes and low-grade dread. I sat across from Adrian, my fingers curled around a porcelain teacup. The liquid inside was lukewarm, a bitter Earl Grey that matched the stagnant air in the room, but I didn't care. I was too busy maintaining the mask—the practiced, serene expression of the perfect wife who was supposed to be oblivious to the fact that her world was currently a minefield.

“Different doesn’t even cover it. He… he’s… Rhea, I can’t. It’s ridiculous.” “Ridiculous how? Like, heart-stopping, terrifyingly handsome ridiculous? Or like, ‘I can’t breathe, I’m going to stammer’ ridiculous?” “Both,” I admitted, letting out a shaky laugh. “He was… Perfect, not Perfect like in magazines or movies. But… perfect. The way he sits, the way his hands move over the papers—it’s all deliberate, controlled. You know? Every motion Calculated. And then he looked up at me…”

It's our fifth year together, and I accompany my fiance, Theo Montague, to see the aurora he has always yearned to see. Fortune favors us that night as vivid green lights stretch across the snow-covered plain. He wraps his arms around me from behind and suddenly murmurs, "It's beautiful. Too bad we're still one step short of perfect." I freeze for a moment and ask him what we're missing. He doesn't answer, and I don't press him, either. After all, I've heard this phrase far too many times. When I go to great lengths to get him the out-of-print book he has his sights on for ages, he sighs. "We're still one step short of perfect." When we move into our beautifully furnished house and f

I had such a hard time at keeping my face straight and not squealing like a fangirl at that time. I will never tell you that I knew about how you tried to propose to me. I know how important it was for you to propose in a perfect way. But Jonathan do remember that if I say yes it will be to you and not to the way you propose to me. It won’t matter to me if you slide a metal band on my finger with a simple ‘Will you marry me?’ It is the emotion that counts. I will always say ‘yes’ to you. I would have said yes even if I had found that ring in my glass. You always try to make everything perfect but Jonathan if everything is always perfect in our lives it will become monotonous. It is little im

One more chapter to go. Dear Reader, As I turn the final page of Perfect Love, I want to express how much your journey alongside these characters has meant to me. This story was about exploring the idea of love in its purest form, amidst the imperfections of life. I hope it inspired you to believe in the beauty of love, even when it’s not perfect. Writing this book allowed me to delve into the intricacies of human emotions, and I’m grateful for every moment you spent with these characters.

The bloodlust vanished from the air like it never existed. “Well, at least I am perfect at being flawed…” Ezra sipped in the coffee, making loud slurping noises which was clearly annoying Raven even more. “I am flawlessly imperfect.” He continued in a dreamy tone, like he was reciting the hymn of the universe. “Imperfectum est perfectio. Perfectio est illusionis. Imperfection is perfection and perfection is illusion. So, you are an illusion, Raven.” He pointed his finger at Raven. Ouch. That must have hurt, and it clearly did. I gaped at Raven.

She had hid this book well for so long now and was mad at herself right now for being careless with the only thing that brought a smile to her face knowing that she was about to lose this book too. Annabel saw the fright in her eyes but cared less about her feelings, she has despised Monalisa from when they were little especially since she looked more beautiful than her and her mum does not fail to remind her of that whenever they were alone, she even had to be on diet to remain skinny in order to be attractive as her mum had told her and what angered her the most was how Monalisa could remain beautiful even with all the suffering they have put her through.

Before perfection is created, it is imagined. Defined. Designed. --- Controlled. --- Elena Voss had spent her life rejecting that idea. --- Because perfection— --- Was never real. --- Only imposed. --- Only forced into existence by those too afraid of imperfection. --- But now— --- Something was changing. --- Something that didn’t follow her rules. --- Or anyone’s. --- The threads pulsed again. --- Stronger than before. --- Not chaotic. --- Not unstable.

“ Look, all I am saying is, I’d rather try to fix what can’t be fixed than watch you break.” Silence stretched, thick with everything we weren’t saying. Bonding over the fact that the same blood ran through our veins, even though it was not entirely the same. Almost like I had imagined it, the sound of deliberate footsteps broke the moment. The clacking sound of heels connecting with the marbled floor made my chest tighten aggressively. It felt like heels on stone. The smell of the familiar cold perfume drifted through the peaceful air, poisoning the once sweet smell with it’s venom. I didn’t exactly need to turn to know who it was.

Ravyn paused and went still, her blue eyes holding an unknown emotion. Sephora continued, "You like it that Joe will never be perfect, that he makes mistakes and he has short-comings in his character - you cherish that. You've come across perfection before, through Vince, and you've experienced what perfection requires - how boring it is, how predictable, how perfection can only take you so far. Joe is far from perfect, you're right. But you know that when he loves, his love is deep and genuine and something that he doesn't just give away lightly. You don't want someone perfect, you want someone that's real."