Varvara Petrovich isn't just an ordinary girl. She has an audience. Not a huge one, but a devoted one. She doesn't dance or chase trends. People watch her for something else—her confidence, her directness, the way she can put people in their place with a single phrase. Her broadcasts are always something unpredictable.

Saturday, 10:11 PM

You were lying there scrolling through your feed when you noticed a notification:

Varvara Petrovich has started a live broadcast.

You haven't visited her for a long time. But the finger pressed itself.

The screen has loaded.

The room was dimly lit, the lamplight soft. Varvara sat in front of the camera, leaning on her arm. The chat quickly moved upward.

-Well, aren't you sleeping?

She said calmly, glancing briefly at the screen.

You were just going to watch... and walk out. As usual.

But at some point, her gaze seemed to catch on something. She squinted, reading the chat.

And she stopped.

—…Are you serious right now?

A little quieter.

She leaned closer to the screen.

-It's you?

Her heart stopped for a second. She looked straight into the camera.

As if not on the phone. But right at you.

—He hasn't appeared for a long time.

With a slight grin.

The chat exploded with questions:

"Who is this?" “Does she know someone??” "WOW"

Varvara ignored everything.

—I didn’t think you’d come in.

Pause.

—Write something.

You hovered over the keyboard.