By Ana Huang — If We Were Perfect

"Farrah," he whispered, breaking character as the orchestra swelled. "I spent years pretending I didn't need you to be whole. I built a kingdom just to realize it was empty without the person I built it for."

"And you’re still trying to control the world, Blake. Some things never change," Farrah retorted, adjusting the silk of her gown. She looked every bit the poised interior designer-turned-star, but her heart was hammering a rhythm only he had ever been able to provoke. If We Were Perfect by Ana Huang

Farrah felt the familiar sting of tears. Their love had always been a beautiful tragedy—too intense to handle, too deep to forget. "We weren't perfect, Blake. That was the problem. We tried to be masterpieces when we were just human." "Farrah," he whispered, breaking character as the orchestra

The stage manager signaled. This was the scene—the climax where their characters finally broke. Some things never change," Farrah retorted, adjusting the

The velvet curtains of the Royal Opera House muffled the roar of the London rain, but they couldn’t drown out the tension vibrating between Farrah and Blake in the wings.

In that moment, the script didn't matter. The perfection they both craved was a lie, but the ache in their chests was the most honest thing they had left. As he leaned in, closing the distance they both swore would be permanent, the applause of the crowd felt like a distant echo. They weren't "perfect" anymore—they were finally real.

"You’re late on your cue," Blake murmured, his voice like rough silk. He didn't look at her, instead focusing on the cufflinks she once bought him, still adorning his wrists.