Blurb

In the backdrop of ‘90s Festac, Gina’s heart is captivated by her first love, Mudi, until his father’s disapproval drives them apart. Enter Tobenna, a charming suitor whose love lacks the intensity of Mudi’s, yet still manages to ensnare Gina’s affections.

Decades later, Gina finds herself trapped in a marriage that falls short of the idyllic dreams she once harboured. Despite her efforts to bury the memories of Mudi’s ardent love letters, they persist like ghosts from her past, haunting her thoughts and stirring dormant emotions within her heart.

When a serendipitous encounter brings Mudi back into her life, Gina is faced with an agonising choice that threatens to upend her carefully constructed world. Will she risk everything for the possibility of rekindling a long-lost flame, or will she remain tethered to the familiarity of her crumbling marriage, clinging to the hope of salvaging what remains?

Review

Na wa o. This book stressed me out.

From the very start, I could see the impending catastrophe. Not because the writing was bad, far from it, but because the emotional suspense was too real. The kind that makes you put the book down just to breathe and mutter to yourself, “Why am I doing this to myself? What are these choices?” And then pick it back up again because I just can’t stop myself from turning the pages with my heart lodged firmly in my chest.

No Perfect Love is raw, honest, and deeply unsettling in the best way. It’s a gut punch of a story that stares directly into the eyes of middle-aged love, its beauty, its burdens, its cracks. The characters aren’t twenty-somethings swept up in a whirlwind fever. They’re older. Married. With history. With kids. With silence. And one ironic thing about silence? It gets loud.

I especially love that it doesn’t flinch from the emotional messiness of long-term relationships. So often, we get books about falling in love (guilty as charged), but what about staying in love? Working through resentment? Regret? Emotional gaps? That’s what this book dares to poke at. It’s not sweet or fluffy. It’s jagged, heavy and reflective.

And that’s where it hit me. There’s this whole thread about love languages, and it made me pause. We often say “This is how I love,” but rarely ask, “How do you need to be loved?” We expect people to just know. Or we communicate it once and call it a day. But love needs reminding. It needs effort. It needs a bloody group chat and a calendar alert sometimes.

Reading this made me reflect a lot—on what I’d want, how I’d give, and what happens when those things aren’t in sync.  That’s what makes the story so layered. We talk about love languages like cute little quizzes, but they’re actually blueprints. And if your partner doesn’t care to learn yours? That’s how the drift begins because love languages are simply the ability to fulfil a need that’s important to your partner, no matter how little.

Now, this book does take you into very messy territory. Choices are made. And the premise will tempt you to roll your eyes (I did, often), the execution keeps you grounded. Because these characters aren’t just being dramatic—they’re human. Deeply flawed. Deeply tired. And painfully relatable.

What shook me the most was how this story still, somehow, finds its way back to love. Not fairy-tale love, not “everything is fine now” love, but a kind that’s worn thin, stretched out, and still holding on in places. A kind that dares to look at itself in the mirror and ask, “Do I still want to try?”

And I’m not married. I’m not in my forties (not even in my thirties). But this book made me crave a love I’d fight for. A love I’d never cheat on. A love I’d choose to communicate through, even when it’s uncomfortable. Because that’s what this story made clear. Love is a choice. Over and over again. And silence is a slow undoing.

Would I call this a romance? Absolutely. So yes, I’d recommend it. To anyone who can stomach the mess. To anyone who wants to see love from a different angle… one where time has passed, mistakes have been made, and healing isn’t guaranteed. It’s romance, but not the easy kind. It’s not perfect. Neither are the people in it. And that’s the point.

And as for Alfred the cook? I am staging a protest. Justice for him. That man did not deserve to be caught in the crossfire. If you know, you know.

Twitter ‧ Instagram ‧ Goodreads ‧ Services