Aarav had always been the subject of endless teasing at family gatherings. “When will you bring someone home?” his cousins laughed. “You’ll be the last one standing!” He brushed it off with jokes, but deep inside, a strange ache grew heavier each time.
One late night, scrolling endlessly, he stumbled upon an AI app that promised “realistic couple pictures.” With a mischievous grin, he uploaded his photo, picked some random settings, and hit generate. The result popped onto his screen:
Him—smiling brighter than he ever had—and a girl. Not just any girl. Her.
She had warm eyes that seemed to look right into him, hair swept casually but perfectly, and a smile that felt like it belonged in his life. It wasn’t just beauty—there was something about the picture that made it feel real. His chest tightened. For the first time, a prank felt like destiny.
What Aarav didn’t know was that somewhere across the city, Meera had been playing the same game. Curiosity tugged at her when she uploaded her photo and asked the app to “give me a boyfriend.” She laughed when the picture appeared—her, with a guy she’d never seen before. But she paused. The boy had kind, searching eyes, the kind that made her wonder what he was thinking. She saved the photo, felt her heart stutter for a second, and then told herself it was silly. Life swept her forward, and slowly, she forgot.
But Aarav didn’t.
Days turned into months, and still, he found himself opening that AI photo late at night. His friends thought he was joking when he said, “I think she’s out there somewhere.” But he wasn’t joking. He had fallen for a girl who didn’t exist—yet he was sure she did.
And then, fate decided to play its hand.
It was a rainy evening in a cozy book café, the kind with fairy lights draped across the ceiling and soft music humming in the background. Aarav reached for the last copy of a poetry book at the same moment another hand did. Their fingers brushed.
“Sorry,” she said, looking up.
Time stopped.
It was her. The girl from the picture—the smile he had memorized, the eyes that haunted his dreams. Meera blinked, recognition flashing across her face too, though she couldn’t place it. Her heart raced, a whisper reminding her of something she had once forgotten.
“I… I think I know you,” Aarav managed, his voice unsteady.
Meera tilted her head, studying him. And then it struck her—the AI photo from months ago. The boy with kind, searching eyes.
Her lips parted in disbelief. “Oh my god. It’s you.”
The book slipped from his hand, forgotten, as laughter and shock melted into something deeper, something electric. And just like that, the prank, the teasing, the endless waiting—all of it made sense.
Some loves aren’t found.
They are written.
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