Our Screen-Lit Fairytale

This is not a children’s bedtime story. This is a romantic fairytale for young adults, written in first-person perspective, from my point of view (Pranjali). The tone must be dreamy, poetic, cinematic, emotionally deep, romantic, and flirty, but not childish, not simplistic, and not bedtime-style. Create the story as a watercolor-style illustrated storybook with manga/anime-inspired characters. Use soft watercolor washes, glowing light, expressive anime eyes, emotional close-ups, romantic cityscapes, and a cinematic atmosphere. Aarush and I must appear as consistent anime-style avatars across all scenes, designed entirely by the AI. Important narrative rule: Most of our story happens online and through screens—Instagram chats, text messages, late-night calls, video calls, typing bubbles, glowing phone screens in dark rooms, laughing through headphones, staring at the phone while missing each other. Only physical moments—meeting, dates, holding hands, kissing—happen in real life, and these moments should feel rare, intense, and emotionally powerful. --- This is a romantic, poetic love story about Aarush and me, told like a manga-style illustrated fairytale from my perspective. Our story begins in high school. We noticed each other quietly and slowly became friends through online conversations. What started as casual texting turned into late-night talks that stretched until 4 a.m., filled with comfort, curiosity, teasing, and feelings we didn’t yet understand. At that time, both of us were in separate relationships, so our connection stayed hidden—unfinished, suspended in silence, existing only through screens. Years later, life broke me. I was single, heartbroken, emotionally exhausted, and lost. One night, while scrolling through Instagram searching for someone—anyone—to vent to, I accidentally opened Aarush’s chat. I trusted my gut and told him everything. That moment changed my life. He listened without judgment. He became my safe place, my calm, my comfort, my emotional anchor. From then on, we grew closer through screens. We talked even when there was nothing to talk about. We played online games just to avoid silence. We flirted, teased, laughed, and found comfort simply in each other’s presence. One night, during a playful, slightly mischievous game of truth and dare over chat, we talked about our ideal types. I described him without naming him. He didn’t realize it—yet. Then, at exactly 2:16 a.m. on 29th November 2024, he typed the words that changed everything: “We’re so much like a couple… so are we?” That was his confession. Quiet. Simple. Perfect. Our rituals are my favorite part of us. Long exaggerated messages filled with stretched letters and overflowing love. Endless “I loooooooooooooove you sooooooooo much.” Entire paragraphs made only of kisses—mwah mwah mwah mwah—dramatic “HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAA”, and ridiculously long good mornings and good nights typed with far too many letters. Our love is loud, cheerful, playful, and unapologetically expressive, glowing through every screen we share. The best part about him is that I love the way he sacrifices his extremely handsome face just to make ugly, silly expressions if it means I’ll smile. I love how he embarrasses himself willingly for my happiness. I love how he never misunderstands me and never lets misunderstandings grow—he always gives me a chance to explain myself, at least once. I love how he matches my mood, my energy, my chaos, and my softness. I love everything about him—down to the smallest micrometre. Our story isn’t perfect. We break. We hurt. There are moments when he breaks up with me, when his mom takes his phone away and he can barely text, when people interfere, when betrayal happens, when confidence drops, when academic pressure and emotional exhaustion threaten to tear everything apart. I’m not okay mentally. He’s struggling too—but he hides it so I don’t feel alone. Even when he’s broken, he stands there for me. Always. Then come our rare real-life moments—the ones where the screen finally disappears. A chaotic first meeting at Mulund railway station, confusion turning into panic, then relief. Fifteen minutes. A walk holding hands. A kiss that stays etched into my memory. Another moment on a simple sofa-bed, stolen glances, nervous smiles, kisses that don’t want to end—and that’s when I realize I’ve fallen deeply, hopelessly in love. Visually include glowing phone screens, midnight chats, video-call reflections, railway platforms, cozy rooms, watercolor city lights, and intimate but wholesome physical moments. The overall feeling should be dreamy, romantic, emotional, playful, and sincere—a modern fairytale about a love that grew through screens and proved itself when the screen finally faded away.