The Witch Who Fell In Love – A Modern Retold Fairy Tale of Honesty and Love

Once upon a time—though not in a forest or a distant medieval land, but in the buzzing heart of Manhattan—there lived a witch named Angie. She lived in a cramped third-floor walk-up on the Lower East Side, far from the crooked towers and shadowy caves one might expect of a proper witch. Her neighbors barely noticed her, save for the occasional odd smell of herbs or the faint glow under her door at odd hours.

Angie wasn’t the wicked sort of witch, nor was she the beautiful enchantress of storybooks. She was… moody. Her nose was a little too big, her chin a bit too pointy, and her skin carried the stress of many late-night potion experiments. But her eyes—deep, dark, and unexpectedly kind—were undeniably beautiful.

Her days were spent crafting spells and potions that she sold on a secret magical auction site called eFey—a sort of eBay for the magically inclined. Her only companion was a red-and-green parrot named Dave, inherited from her late aunt. Dave was sharp-tongued and sarcastic, but even his chatter couldn’t fill the lonely corners of Angie’s heart.

What Angie truly wanted—though she never said it aloud—was companionship. A real friend. Maybe even… love.

One afternoon, while shopping for herbs at a local market, she bumped into someone. She was ready to snap at whoever had crossed her path, but the words froze on her lips. Standing before her was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Tall, stylish, and radiating that effortless charm that makes the air feel lighter. He smiled, revealing a grin so dazzling it could make a cynic swoon.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

Angie managed a stunned, “I’m… fine, thanks.”

As he walked away and slid into an expensive black car, Angie watched, spellbound.

“Who was that?” she asked the shopkeeper.

“You don’t know? That’s Prince. Prince Charming. Son of Alvin Charming, the billionaire behind Charming Digital.”

Yes, really—Prince Charming. Even in Manhattan, some things never change.

From that day on, Angie couldn’t stop thinking about him. Her potion work suffered, her seller rating on eFey dropped, and Dave squawked in frustration at her distracted state. She was in love—or, at the very least, utterly infatuated.

But she knew, in the depths of her heart, that Prince Charming would never fall for a moody, peculiar witch with a penchant for dark clothes and midnight spells. So, she did what witches do best—she brewed a potion.

With a few drops, Angie transformed herself into a radiant beauty: flawless skin, soft golden hair, the kind of smile that lit up a room. She bumped into Prince again at the market, this time disguised, and their meeting was, well… a meet-cute straight from a rom-com.

They talked. He invited her to dinner. She agreed. And soon, they began seeing each other regularly. But every date was a charade. She carried extra vials of her beauty potion in her purse, refreshed it in secret, and maintained a cheery, carefree persona that felt alien to her.

Months passed. Then, one glittering night after the opera, as they strolled through the city streets, Prince suddenly stopped.

“Angie,” he said, taking her hands gently, “will you marry me?”

Her heart soared—and sank. She wanted to say yes. But how could she? She was living a lie.

And just as she was about to answer, fate intervened. A mugger appeared from a shadowy alley, gun drawn, demanding their valuables. Prince, surprisingly spry, managed to knock the wind out of the mugger and send him running, but in the scuffle, Angie’s purse fell—her vial shattered. The potion was gone.

Before Prince’s eyes, Angie transformed back into her true self—her moody, pointy-chinned, sharp-nosed self.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she explained everything. Her loneliness, her magic, her deception. She braced for rejection.

But Prince only chuckled. “That’s fantastic,” he said, grinning wider.

“Fantastic?” Angie blinked. “I just revealed I’ve been lying to you this whole time!”

Prince took off a silver pendant from around his neck and tossed it aside. As soon as it left his skin, he began to change. He shrank a little, his hair thinned, his nose crooked slightly—not ugly, but ordinary, real.

“That pendant was an enchanted glamour,” he admitted. “I bought it on eFey years ago to make myself look charming. Truth is, I’m just… regular old me. And honestly? I’m pretty moody too.”

They stared at each other, two imperfect, moody souls stripped of all illusion. Then they both burst out laughing.

From that night on, they stopped pretending. Angie taught Prince the art of potion-making—he turned out to be a decent cook and a meticulous assistant. Together, they started their own online shop: Charming & Co., specializing in spells, charms, and enchantments made with a side of sarcasm and wit.

And so, in the least expected place, in the least expected way, the witch who fell in love discovered that love doesn’t require potions, perfect hair, or flawless skin—just honesty, a sense of humor, and someone who gets your moodiness.

They lived, if not perfectly, then happily enough ever after.

Moral of the Story

True love doesn’t need magic, disguises, or enchantments. It begins when we dare to be our true, unfiltered selves.