Chapter 1: Midnight Messages and Filmy Feels
It was past midnight, the ceiling fan clicking overhead, my thumb hovering over her latest post on her alt Insta. The phone screen lit up my face, washing everything else in that familiar blue glow. My room smelled faintly of mosquito coil, and in the distance, the neighbour's TV blared some ancient Doordarshan serial.
My girlfriend used her alternate Instagram account to post: "Does a princess have to marry a prince? Maybe the knight is actually her true destiny."
Tch.
Honestly, this is straight out of a Star Plus serial. Next thing, my mother will call Panditji for a solution. I mean, you want to be a princess, fine—but since when does a princess sneak around behind the prince’s back at midnight, sending flirty DMs to the so-called knight?
It’s all too much, yaar—the drama, the royal fantasy, but she’s acting like she’s plotting in the background like some Ekta Kapoor heroine, probably adjusting her jhumkas while typing. Even the aunties in our building gossip less shamelessly than this, and that’s saying something.