Morning arrived without asking for permission.
Sunlight slipped through the gaps in the thin curtains, landing directly on Aarav Verma's face like an alarm that refused to be snoozed. He groaned softly, turning onto his side and pulling the pillow over his head.
His body felt heavy.
Not from physical exhaustion—but from something unfamiliar.
Excitement.
His mind replayed the night before again and again: the viewer count rising, the messages in chat, his mother unknowingly appearing on stream, the words feels real lingering in his chest long after the stream ended.
Six viewers, he thought.
It sounded ridiculous when said aloud. Something people would laugh at.
And yet, for Aarav, it felt like the first step onto a road he had never been allowed to walk before.
"Aarav," his mother called from outside. "Wake up. You'll be late.
"I'm awake," he replied, voice muffled by the pillow.
He wasn't.
But he forced himself to sit up anyway, rubbing his eyes and stretching his stiff arms. The cracked phone lay beside him, plugged into the charger his father shared with the entire household. The battery showed 100%.
Fully charged.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Breakfast was simple: two rotis and leftover curry. Aarav ate quietly while his father read the newspaper, eyes scanning job listings out of habit more than hope.
Ananya sat across from him, sipping tea and watching him with a knowing look.
"What?" Aarav asked, uncomfortable under her gaze.
She tilted her head. "You're smiling."
"So?"
"You don't smile in the morning," she said matter-of-factly. "You usually look like life personally insulted you."
Their father snorted softly behind the newspaper.
Aarav felt his ears heat up. "Nothing happened."
"Oh really?" Ananya leaned forward. "Then why did you go to sleep saying 'thanks for watching' like a crazy person?"
Aarav choked on his tea.
"Didi!"
Their mother frowned. "What watching?"
"Streaming," Ananya replied casually. "My little brother is an internet celebrity now."
Rakesh lowered the newspaper slightly, looking at Aarav over the rim. "How many watched?"
Aarav hesitated.
"Six," he said honestly.
There was a pause.
Then his father nodded once. "More than yesterday."
That was it.
No lecture.
No mockery.
No unrealistic expectations.
Just a simple acknowledgment.
Aarav felt something loosen in his chest.
The rest of the day passed slowly.
He helped his mother with chores, ran an errand to the nearby shop, and avoided the group of boys near the tea stall who always seemed eager to remind him how useless he was.
"Still jobless?" one of them sneered as Aarav walked past.
He didn't reply.
For the first time, their words felt… lighter.
Because tonight—
He would go live again.
At exactly the same time as the previous night, Aarav sat in his room, phone propped up against the same stack of books, earphones plugged in, fan creaking overhead like a familiar soundtrack.
He checked the internet twice.
Then three times.
Then once more, just to be sure.
His hands trembled slightly as he opened the streaming app
"Don't think too much," he muttered to
himself. "Just play."
He tapped Go Live.
The screen blinked.
LIVE
"Viewers: 0"
Aarav exhaled slowly.
It's okay, he told himself. Yesterday started the same way.
He launched the game.
Minutes passed.
Five.
Ten.
No viewers.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
Maybe yesterday was just luck, the familiar doubt crept in. Maybe no one will come today.
Just as he was about to sigh—
Viewers: 1
His heart jumped.
He didn't react immediately this time. Didn't lean forward or panic. He kept playing, forcing himself to stay calm.
"Welcome," he said naturally, voice steadier than before. "Hope you enjoy."
The chat remained silent.
But the viewer stayed.
A minute later—
Viewers: 2
Then—
Viewers: 3
Aarav felt something spark inside him.
They came back.
He focused harder, making smarter plays, narrating his decisions quietly without even realizing he was doing it.
"I'm rotating early here," he said. "They'll push mid in about ten seconds."
Ten seconds later, they did.
The chat lit up.
[ShadowPing]: bro how u know
[PixelFox]: clean prediction
Aarav blinked.
Usernames.
Real usernames.
Not "UnknownUser" anymore.
He smiled.
"Experience," he replied aloud, then typed,
[Streamer]: map control + timing
[ShadowPing]: damn
The viewer count climbed to five.
Then seven.
Ananya peeked in quietly, giving him a thumbs-up before backing out again.
Midway through the stream, a new message appeared.
[RiyaM]: is this ur second stream?
Aarav glanced at the username.
Something about it stood out.
Maybe it was the confidence in the question. Or the fact that it wasn't just reacting—but engaging.
"Yeah," he replied. "Second day."
[RiyaM]: u play like u've been grinding forever
Aarav chuckled softly. "I have."
He typed,
[Streamer]: just never streamed before
[RiyaM]: why start now?
That question made him pause.
Why did he start now?
Because he was poor?
Because he was desperate?
Because he had nothing else?
He chose honesty.
[Streamer]: cuz this is the only thing i'm good at
There was a brief pause in chat.
Then—
[RiyaM]: then don't quit
Aarav stared at the screen.
Those three words hit harder than he expected.
Don't quit.
Simple.
Direct.
Powerful.
The viewer count ticked up again.
Viewers: 10
His breath caught.
Ten people.
Double digits.
The stream lasted longer tonight.
Almost an hour.
The battery dipped to 12%, but Aarav barely noticed. He was too immersed—talking more, reacting to chat, laughing when someone joked about his fan sounding like a helicopter.
"Budget ASMR," he joked, earning a few laughing emojis.
When he finally ended the stream, his hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From adrenaline.
He checked the summary.
Peak viewers: 12
New followers: 4
Average watch time: higher than yesterday
Small numbers.
But real.
Very real.
Later that night, lying on his mattress, Aarav opened the app again—not to stream, but to check chat logs.
He reread the messages slowly.
nice play
feels real
don't quit
Then he noticed something new.
A notification.
New Follower: RiyaM
He stared at the name.
A smile crept onto his face.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would stream again.
Not because he wanted to be rich.
Not yet.
But because—
Someone out there was waiting.