No One Is Perfect

They used to say love was for the flawless—for the maidens with porcelain skin, silken hair, and unblemished hearts. For the heroes with spotless honor and polished crowns. For the ones who fit neatly into the tales sung by bards and carved into tapestries.

But what of the rest of us?
What of the souls who stumbled, who cracked, who carried mistakes like shadows stitched into our skin?
Was love not meant for us too?

This is where our story begins.

The Girl Who Carried Quiet Courage

Elara was not the kind of girl the kingdom celebrated. She did not dazzle at court or draw suitors in waves. Her beauty was the quiet kind—the kind that revealed itself in the curve of her smile when no one was watching, in the way she touched the earth as if it were sacred, in the soft devotion she gave to things most people overlooked.

Her friends said she was “too soft.” Her family wished she were more practical. And sometimes, Elara believed them. She had learned young that the world rewarded hardness, efficiency, and perfection. But in the secret corners of her soul, she believed softness could still win—that love could still be hers, no matter how imperfect her path.

Every evening, she whispered this belief into the mirror, as if trying to convince her reflection:
“I am worthy of being chosen.”

 The Boy With a Shadowed Past