If you think surviving breakfast on livestream means the hard part is over,
you've never spent an entire day with the internet watching you breathe.
12:30 p.m. – Damage Control Lunch
By noon, Darian's phone has developed a nervous tick.
PR messages. Board reminders. "Emergency alignment calls."
"Do you have to work?" I ask, slumped on the couch, scrolling through live comments like it's a battlefield.
"Yes," he says calmly. "My company still exists."
"Debatable," I reply.
The camera's on again.
🔴 LIVE
Viewers: 3.9 MILLION
Darian sits at the dining table with his laptop.
I sit opposite him with noodles and zero respect for corporate decorum.
The comments immediately split.
@CEOcore: LET THE MAN WORK
@LyraNation: FEED HIM FIRST
I glance at his screen. "You're correcting a typo."
"It's an important typo."
"It's 'their' vs 'there.' The stock market will survive."
He looks up. "You just said 'could of' out loud."
Silence.
I gasp. "Do NOT grammar-shame me on a livestream."
The chat explodes.
@GrammarGate: OH THIS IS WAR
@HeDidNot: CEO CALLED HER OUT
@MarriedEnergy: THIS IS HOW MARRIAGES END
I flick a noodle at him.
He dodges it effortlessly.
"How are you this agile?" I demand.
"Boardrooms are dangerous," he replies.
4:00 p.m. – The Nap Incident
By late afternoon, the adrenaline crashes.
I curl up on the sofa with a blanket, phone forgotten, eyes half-closed.
Darian's still working, voice low as he takes a call.
Somewhere between EBITDA and market projections, I fall asleep.
The camera is still on.
Chat notices immediately.
@SHE'S ASLEEP: STOP 😭
@SoftHours: THIS IS TOO INTIMATE
@ProtectLyra: TURN OFF CAM
Darian notices ten minutes later.
He freezes.
Slowly walks over.
Covers me with his jacket.
Doesn't say a word.
The chat loses its collective mind.
@JACKETAGAIN: HE DID IT AGAIN
@NotFake: THIS IS NOT FAKE
@I'M CRYING: WHY IS THIS GENTLE
He reaches for the phone.
🔴 LIVE PAUSED
7:00 p.m. – Dinner & Disaster
The livestream resumes in the kitchen.
I'm awake now, hair messy, dignity questionable.
"Why did you put your jacket on me?" I ask quietly.
"You were cold."
"I wasn't."
"You were sleeping."
"That's not a temperature."
He ignores me.
We cook together.
This is a mistake.
I chop vegetables aggressively.
He reads a recipe like it's a legal document.
"You don't need to measure oil," I say.
"Yes, you do."
"No. You feel oil."
He stares at me. "That explains a lot."
I almost stab him with a spatula.
@KitchenChaos: I'M ENTERTAINED
@MarriedMarried: THEY'LL SURVIVE DAY 1
Then the power goes out.
Lights. Camera. Darkness.
I yelp.
Darian's hand closes around my wrist instantly.
"I've got you," he says.
The chat goes silent.
Then:
@HOLDINGHAND: PAUSE??
@WHY WAS THAT FAST: HE REACTED IN 0.2 SECONDS
The lights flicker back.
We drop hands.
Too fast.
Too aware.
11:47 p.m. – Almost Night Rule Broken
The camera is supposed to be off.
It is mostly off.
But someone forgot to hit stop completely.
The screen shows the living room. Dim. Quiet.
I sit on the floor, back against the couch.
"I hate this," I whisper, not knowing we're still live.
"I know," Darian says, sitting beside me.
A pause.
"You did good today," he adds softly.
I laugh weakly. "Congratulations. You survived the internet."
"I wasn't talking to them."
The chat goes wild.
@WAITWAIT: WAS THAT REAL
@THIS ISN'T PR: I'M SOBBING
@END THE LIVE: STOP BEFORE WE DIE
The screen finally goes black.
🔴 LIVE ENDED
I realize it a second too late.
"We were live," I say.
He exhales slowly.
"Yes."
Silence.
"Day One," I murmur.
"Day One," he agrees.
And somehow…
neither of us wants it to end yet.