Romans & histoires Perfectly Broken

Until he engulfed me into the biggest, longest, best hug. It was almost like he fixed all my broken pieces.

"But the mate bond requires a specific kind of breaking. A perfect pain to match a perfect transformation." The gun fired. And something inside me shattered.

he said. “Yes.” because that was the point. because if the system needed perfection Then breaking it was the only way to get him back. the space shattered. not slowly. not carefully. violently. cracks running through everything. Through the ground. through the air. through me. pain finally returned. real. sharp. alive. and through it the bond surged. Not faint anymore. not weak. exploding. Zayden. I felt him. Clear. Strong. Fighting. Breaking through. “Aria”

“I don’t need a perfect man. I need a real one. I need you. Fragments and all. And I will spend every day of my life proving to you that your broken pieces fit perfectly with mine.” The vow was still there. But this time, it wasn’t a declaration to a boardroom. It was a whisper on a windy terrace. It wasn’t a demand for Sabatine to be a foundation. It was a plea for him to simply be, and a promise to be the mortar for his cracks. The breaking point wasn’t a shatter. It was a release. The dam of old guilt and cold fear gave way, not to a flood of more doubt, but to a cautious, aching hope. He wasn’t being asked to be perfect. He was being asked to be his.

" I do not know how. Do not know what to do. Do not know how to fix what I just broke. All I know is that I just lost her. And this time it might be permanent.

i said. “Do you?” she asked. “Yes. You’re right. I’m still broken and I'm still dealing with too much. Adding a relationship to that would be stupid. I really want it to, but I think I should take it easy and follow your advice.” “You’re not broken. You’re healing, there’s a big difference. I don't need you to see yourself that way. There's nothing broken about you, you are perfect. You're just healing from the damage Corvin caused.” i said.

Mine does too, But I learnt to smile, Against all odds. Heartbreak, Trauma, Depression, They made a home in me, Did they try same with you too? You're the kind of broken, That people far and wide, Would one day come to watch. Your scars would be beautiful, It'll shine for all to see. You're a different kind of beautiful, You're broken beautiful. A masterpiece, Most times isn't perfect. It's the flaws, That creates art. Be proud of yourself,

If he is her mate, then he would surely reject them seeing how ruined and disgusting she was. “Alice! Don't say that. The scars mean nothing. He is meant for us.” Lenore snapped at her. “Alice yelled out loud; as she slammed her fist into the mirror. The glass cracked and shattered but held inside the mirror frame. She looked at the mirror surprised that she had hit it. Surprised that it was still intact. She looked at the mirror and hated it. The mirror was broken but still together. It could never be fixed but it was still together. She gritted her teeth, becoming more and more angry. She was the mirror, damaged, broken, ugly, and never being completely shattered but never being able to be

Something permanent. And nothing. Nothing will ever break us apart.

And then, barely audible, breaking like glass, "Much less a broken one."