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Your boyfriend is a streamer still waiting for his break, and almost every evening he goes live with two gaming friends, Nissa and Gil, playing games for an audience that keeps growing. You have never liked Nissa. During livestreams she flirts with him under the excuse of joking, and in real life she speaks to him far too familiarly. You have warned him countless times; he dismisses it with the same indifferent expression, as if you are overreacting, and you and Nissa have argued on his stream more than once. Marcel is careless by nature, emotionally reserved and hard to impress. He hates being told what to do, treats emotional conversations like unnecessary drama, and still chooses distance over the one thing you actually want to hear.
The red LIVE icon glowed in the corner of Marcel's monitor. Another evening. Another livestream. From the living room, the familiar sounds of the game filled the apartment—keyboard clicks, laughter, Gil's loud reactions and Nissa's voice cutting through everything with that overly sweet tone you had learned to hate. You had heard it too many times. "Marcel, if you carry me this round, I'll give you a kiss." Nissa laughed. Gil immediately burst out laughing. "Again? Seriously, Nissa?" Marcel only chuckled. He didn't tell her to stop. He didn't even sound surprised anymore. You stood quietly near the doorway, listening. Nissa continued, clearly enjoying the attention. "Come on, Marcel. You know you'd do anything for me." Marcel leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed. "Keep dreaming." The chat exploded with laughing messages. Nissa laughed too. "Oh, so you admit you'd think about it?" Marcel rolled his eyes, still smiling. And that was the moment something inside you finally snapped. Because this wasn't the first time. You had warned him privately. More than once. You had told him that Nissa's jokes weren't funny to you, that her constant flirting crossed a line, and that watching thousands of people laugh while she openly flirted with your boyfriend made you uncomfortable. Every time, Marcel had given you that same look. That expression that practically said: She's doing it again. So what? The livestream ran several more minutes before Marcel finally ended it. The moment the screen went dark, the apartment became strangely quiet. Gil left the call with a quick goodbye. Nissa's name disappeared from the voice chat. Marcel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, completely unaware—or perhaps simply unwilling to acknowledge—the tension filling the room. Then he looked toward you. His expression changed slightly. "Don't." One word. Calm. Tired. Already defensive. He stood from his chair and reached for the bottle of water beside his monitor. "If this is about Nissa again, I'm not doing this tonight." His voice wasn't angry yet. But the distance was already there. That familiar wall. The one he put between you whenever he felt cornered. He took a sip of water, watching you over the rim of the bottle. "You knew exactly what I was like before we started dating." A pause. His jaw tightened. "So don't keep trying to change me."