The number stayed there.
Viewers: 1
It was small. Laughably small. The kind of number most streamers would ignore without a second thought.
But to Aarav Verma, it felt heavier than a million.
Someone was watching.
Not a system test.
Not a bug.
A real person.
His heartbeat skipped, and for the briefest moment, his fingers hesitated on the screen. The character in the game nearly walked straight into enemy fire because of it.
"Idiot," Aarav muttered under his breath, forcing himself to refocus. "Don't mess up now."
He didn't know why, but the idea of disappointing that single viewer terrified him more than failing exams or being scolded by his father. This person had chosen to stay. Chosen to watch him.
That meant something.
He leaned slightly closer to the phone, lowering his voice unconsciously, as if the viewer could hear the nerves in his chest.
"Uh… welcome," he said again, a bit more clearly this time. "If you're watching… thanks."
No response came.
The chat box was empty.
No "hi."
No emoji.
No name popping up.
Just silence.
Maybe they left their phone on, he thought. Maybe they're not even there.
Still, the viewer count didn't drop.
Aarav swallowed and focused back on the game.
The game he was playing wasn't the most popular title. It wasn't trending, and it definitely wasn't new. But it was a game he knew inside out—map layouts memorized, weapon recoil patterns burned into muscle memory, spawn timings calculated without conscious effort.
This was the only place where Aarav felt confident.
As the match progressed, his movements became smoother. He stopped thinking about the camera. Stopped thinking about the cracked screen, the flickering bulb, the fan threatening to collapse.
There was only the game.
He pushed aggressively when others would camp. He retreated when instinct screamed danger, even before logic could explain why. He predicted enemy movements, rotated early, took calculated risks.
Within minutes, his kill count climbed.
"Nice," he whispered when he pulled off a difficult clutch, wiping sweat from his forehead. "That was clean."
The viewer count flickered.
Viewers: 2
Aarav froze.
"Wait—what?"
He leaned forward so quickly the phone nearly toppled over. He steadied it with one hand, eyes locked on the screen as if it might vanish if he blinked.
Two.
Two people were watching him now.
His lips parted, but no words came out. He didn't know what to say. No one had ever prepared him for this moment. There were no tutorials on how to act when strangers chose you over thousands of others.
"Uh… hi?" he said lamely. "If you just joined… welcome."
Still no chat.
But they stayed.
From the kitchen, the smell of food drifted into his room. His stomach growled loudly, betraying him. He hadn't eaten since morning, and even then, it had just been tea and a dry biscuit.
"Eat first, stream later," his mother always said.
He ignored the hunger and adjusted his sitting position, wincing as his back protested against the hard floor. The mattress was thin, but sitting on the floor felt worse. Still, he didn't dare move too much. Any sudden motion could knock over the phone, and then—stream over.
The internet stuttered for a second.
The screen pixelated.
"No, no, no," Aarav whispered urgently, glancing at the signal bars. "Not now. Please not now."
The lag passed.
The stream stabilized.
The viewer count held.
He exhaled slowly.
Outside, Ananya peeked into his room.
She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him quietly. Aarav didn't notice her at first. His entire world was the phone screen.
She raised an eyebrow, noticing his unusually serious expression.
So this is what he looks like when he's focused, she thought.
A few seconds passed before she spoke.
"You're really live, aren't you?"
Aarav jumped, nearly throwing the phone in the process.
"Didi!" he hissed, scrambling to steady it again. "Don't scare me like that!"
She walked in, curiosity clear on her face. "I've never seen you sit this straight before. What's going on?"
"I'm streaming," he whispered urgently, glancing at the screen. "Don't talk so loud."
Ananya blinked.
"Streaming?" she repeated, lowering her voice instinctively. "Like… people are watching?"
"Yes," Aarav said, then corrected himself. "I mean… maybe."
She leaned closer, squinting at the screen.
"How many?"
Aarav hesitated.
"Two."
She stared at him for a second.
Then she burst out laughing.
"Two?" she said, trying—and failing—to suppress her laughter. "You're whispering like you're addressing a stadium!"
"Shh!" Aarav waved his hands frantically. "They can hear us!"
"They?" Ananya teased, glancing around the tiny room theatrically. "Where? Are they hiding under the bed?"
"Didi!" His ears burned. "Please. Just… sit quietly or go outside."
She laughed again but softened when she saw how tense he looked.
"Relax," she said, sitting down carefully on the edge of the mattress. "I won't say anything."
She watched the screen for a while, her expression gradually shifting from amusement to interest.
"…You're actually good," she admitted quietly.
Aarav didn't respond. He was too busy pulling off another risky play, heart racing as his character survived with barely any health left.
"See?" Ananya said softly, almost to herself. "I told you."
"Told who?" he asked absentmindedly.
"Him," she replied, glancing toward the door where their father had disappeared earlier.
The chat box blinked.
A new message appeared.
[UnknownUser]: nice play
Aarav stared at it.
For a full three seconds, his brain failed to process the words.
Then—
"Oh!" he exclaimed, forgetting to whisper. "Someone typed!"
Ananya leaned in again. "That's the chat?"
"Yes," Aarav said, eyes glued to the screen. "They said… 'nice play.'"
She smiled.
"Well?" she prompted. "Aren't you going to reply?"
Aarav fumbled awkwardly, nearly tapping the wrong button twice before finally typing.
[Streamer]: thanks 😅
The emoji felt stupid the moment he sent it.
But the viewer count didn't drop.
Another message appeared.
[UnknownUser]: u play like u've played this forever
Aarav felt warmth spread through his chest.
"Yeah," he murmured, more to himself than to the stream. "Something like that."
He typed slowly
.
[Streamer]: yeah… i've been playing for years
The match ended shortly after, his team winning thanks largely to his performance. The results screen flashed, showing his stats clearly at the top.
For the first time since he went live, Aarav leaned back, shoulders relaxing.
"GG," he said aloud, forgetting again that he was being watched.
The viewer count ticked up.
Viewers: 4
Ananya gasped dramatically, clapping a hand over her mouth.
"Four!" she whispered. "Aarav, you're famous now!"
"Stop!" he said, but he was smiling too.
Four people.
Four strangers.
Four lives that, for this moment, intersected with his.
The door creaked open again.
This time, it was his mother.
Sunita Verma peeked in, holding a steel plate with two rotis and a small bowl of curry.
"Eat," she said gently. "You haven't touched food all day."
"Ma," Aarav whispered urgently. "I'm live."
She frowned slightly. "Live?"
Ananya quickly intervened. "He's streaming, Ma. Like on the internet."
"Oh," Sunita said, nodding slowly, though it was clear she didn't fully understand. She stepped closer, peering at the screen. "Can they see us?"
Aarav's soul nearly left his body.
"No, Ma! Just me! Please don't—"
She smiled and placed the plate beside him. "Eat while doing your work. Don't ruin your health."
Then, without another word, she left.
The chat exploded.
[UnknownUser]: LOL
[UnknownUser2]: was that ur mom?
[UnknownUser3]: bro wholesome
Aarav stared at the messages, face burning.
"S-sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Family… small house."
[UnknownUser]: no worries man, feels real
Feels real.
The words echoed in his mind.
He picked up a piece of roti with one hand while adjusting the phone slightly with the other.
"Uh… thanks for staying," he said awkwardly. "I didn't expect anyone."
The viewer count stabilized at six.
Six people were watching him eat cheap food in a tiny room with bad lighting and a broken phone.
And somehow… they didn't leave.
Minutes passed.
Then half an hour.
Then forty minutes.
The battery dropped to 9%.
Aarav noticed and felt panic creep in again.
"Guys," he said reluctantly. "My phone's about to die. I might have to end the stream."
[UnknownUser]: already?
[UnknownUser2]: when u coming back?
He hesitated.
"When… I get the chance," he replied honestly. "Maybe tomorrow. Same time."
[UnknownUser]: we'll be here
The battery hit 5%.
Aarav smiled—small, disbelieving, and a little emotional.
"Thanks," he said softly. "For watching."
He tapped End Stream.
The screen went dark.
The room felt suddenly quiet.
Too quiet.
He sat there for a long moment, staring at his reflection in the cracked screen.
Then Ananya punched his shoulder lightly.
"See?" she said, grinning. "I told you you weren't useless."
He laughed, breath shaky.
Outside, his father watched from the hallway, unseen.
And for the first time in years—
He smiled.