Chapter Two

Chapter One: The Button That Changes Everything 

The button sat there longer than it should have.

Not because it was complicated. Not because the software didn’t work. But because once you press it, there’s no pretending you didn’t want to be seen.

Alex checked his mic levels again. Adjusted his camera. Moved a lamp slightly to the left. Anything to delay the moment.

The room was quiet in that way that makes you aware of yourself. Every breath. Every thought.

This is stupid, he thought.
No one’s going to watch.

Then another thought followed, quieter but heavier.

What if someone does?

He clicked “Go Live.”

Nothing happened.

No fireworks. No instant validation. No dramatic shift in reality. Just a red dot, a timer, and a viewer count sitting stubbornly at zero.

He talked anyway.

Not because he was confident. Because silence felt worse.

He talked about the game. About why he liked it. About nothing important. About anything that kept the stream alive, even if it was only alive for him.

Minutes passed. Then longer.

Eventually, one viewer appeared.

Just a “1.”

No message. No greeting. Just a number.

Alex remembers that moment clearly, even now. Because that “1” wasn’t a fan. It wasn’t a supporter. It was proof. Proof that someone, somewhere, could stumble into the space he created.

Then the number went back to zero.

And weirdly, that hurt less than he expected.

Because the hardest part was already done.

He didn’t quit that night. He didn’t feel victorious either. He just ended stream, leaned back in his chair, and said out loud to no one,

“Okay. I did it.”

That sentence mattered more than any follow count ever would.