If We Were Perfect By Ana Huang ❲90% EXCLUSIVE❳

The stage manager signaled. This was the scene—the climax where their characters finally broke.

"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."

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. If We Were Perfect by Ana Huang

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.

It had been five years since the shattering end of their relationship in Shanghai—five years of carefully constructed silence and "perfect" separate lives. Now, they were the stars of the season's most anticipated production, forced to play lovers under the unforgiving glow of the spotlights. The stage manager signaled

"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.

As they stepped into the light, the audience vanished. There was only the heat of the stage lamps and the weight of five years of unsaid words. When Blake pulled her into the scripted embrace, his touch wasn't professional. It was desperate. "I spent years pretending I didn't need you to be whole

"Then let's be ruined together," he said, his eyes burning with the raw, possessive intensity that had always been his undoing.