If We Were Perfect By Ana | Huang

"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.

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. If We Were Perfect by Ana Huang

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. "You’re late on your cue," Blake murmured, his

The stage manager signaled. This was the scene—the climax where their characters finally broke. Now, they were the stars of the season's

"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.