Chapter 2: Aftermath and Sibling Rivalry

Half a month drifted by aimlessly. Each day bled into the next. I binged bad reality shows and scrolled through TikTok until my eyes hurt. Every couple video on my FYP felt like a personal attack. I’d swipe past, pretending I didn’t care.

I didn't even want to touch my drawing tablet. The half-finished commissions and fanart sat untouched. My creative spark fizzled to a barely-there ember.

Sometimes when my fingers itched to play, I'd remember my freshly-ex-boyfriend and feel a pang of emptiness, so I never logged in. It was easier to avoid the pain than face it head-on.

Whenever I saw a funny meme and tried to share it, the missing pinned chat would remind me we'd broken up, and my heart would ache a little. I’d start typing, then backspace everything and scroll on, pretending it didn’t matter.

Maybe that's just how online relationships are. Once you leave the game and the chat apps, you both just vanish into the sea of people. Out of sight, out of mind. I wondered if he felt the same.

Maybe if we passed each other one day, we wouldn't even recognize each other. The thought was both comforting and crushing. I clung to the hope that maybe—just maybe—he missed me too.

Sometimes, late at night when I missed him, I thought about adding him back. My finger would hover over the unblock button, but pride (or fear) always won.

But then I remembered all the lies between us, and gave up. Maybe some things just weren’t meant to be.

It was a relationship that wasn't real and had no future. That’s what I kept telling myself. Maybe one day, I’d believe it.

Better to cut my losses while I could. My therapist would be proud—if I had one.

Out of the blue, my super-busy older sister contacted me. Her number popping up was like a blast from the past.

She'd been filming on location in the mountains for half a year and finally came home. Even over video chat, she looked like she’d stepped off a magazine cover.

"Hey, Nat, can I snag your account for the tourney tomorrow? Promise I won’t get it banned."

I replied listlessly, "What for?" My voice sounded small, almost childlike next to her confidence.

Aubrey fussed with her hair, making sure every strand was perfect. She was always on-brand, even in her own kitchen. It was honestly impressive.

"There's a game event tomorrow. Your account has almost all the skins, right?"

"Let me use it."

"I want to give Madison a good smackdown at the event."

Madison—my sister's arch-rival in the entertainment industry. Their feud was legendary, like a real-life Hollywood soap opera. If TMZ ever caught wind, they’d probably live-stream the whole thing.

No matter where they went, they competed over everything. From designer jewelry to red carpet gowns, they had to fight over who was the most glamorous star in the scene.

Now their rivalry had finally spilled over into the game. Only Aubrey could turn an exhibition match into a red carpet showdown.

My sister whispered, "Also, I got muted for trash-talking teammates a few days ago."

"I can't let Madison find out. She'll never let me live it down."

......

I was speechless. Typical Aubrey. Always with the drama, even in digital spaces.

I've seen my sister in action—using a voice changer to flame blame-shifting teammates until they rage-quit on the spot. Her rage was legendary. She once made a grown man cry during a ranked match.

No wonder she got muted. I stifled a laugh. Some things never change.

I waved her off: "Take it." My account had been gathering dust anyway. Maybe she’d bring it some glory.

I hadn't logged in for ages. The login screen felt like a portal to a different life.

Caleb had probably deleted me from his friends list by now. The thought twisted my stomach, but I tried to shrug it off.

Back then, I only managed to add him after pestering him for ages. It had felt like a victory, a tiny spark in a world of pixels.

After I suddenly dumped him out of nowhere, he must've deleted me instantly. I told myself it didn’t matter. But it did.

Such a shame about our couple tag, though. In the game, a couple tag was like an online promise ring—public, permanent, and impossible to ignore. I’d leveled that thing up with more virtual flowers than I’d ever admit to anyone IRL.

I spent so many flowers to level it up to 52. A ridiculous investment, if I was being honest. But back then, it felt like forever.