Untouched Pixel
Chapter 2: Glitches and Goodbyes
The magic didn't fade—it mutated.
As Raitha's fame skyrocketed, so did the noise. Fans poured in like rain in a monsoon. Collab requests, sponsorship offers, TikTok trends… and with every upload Shyam edited, her voice reached further. Her face, even masked, became iconic.
But something else grew quietly—distance.
What used to be long calls turned into forwarded messages. Personal chats became team pings. Shyam found himself speaking more to Raitha's newly formed "management group" than to Raitha herself.
> "Hey, Raitha said she wants a sparkle filter here."
"This chorus feels weak—can we do a galaxy burst instead?"
"Speed up the edits, we're on a schedule."
He wasn't angry. Not yet. After all, he wanted her to succeed. She deserved the spotlight.
Still, his screen felt colder. Emptier.
The only warmth left? Ayani.
She stayed the same. Maybe even more annoying—in a good way. She'd pop into his DMs with random:
> "Pixie, rate my breakfast 1-10. Yes, it's pizza."
"How do I keyframe my emotions?"
"If I turn into a VTuber, will you still love me even if I'm a lizard?"
She became his digital chaos buddy. His favorite distraction. And slowly, the chats got longer.
> "Do you ever feel invisible, Ayani?" he asked once.
"Every day. But then I remember… ghosts can still punch people."
"Valid."
Ayani always noticed the little things too.
> "You okay, Pixie?" she asked during one late-night call.
"Just tired."
"You lie like an unrendered transition."
"I'm good at masking."
"You shouldn't have to."
She never pried, but she never left either. She just stayed—a quiet orbit around his crumbling star.
Then came The Day.
Raitha had hit 100 million subs. She hosted a stream party with over half a million viewers watching live. Fans spammed hearts, ASCII art, and confessions of love.
Then, she made the announcement.
> "Hey guys! Before we end the stream, just wanted to say I'm switching editors!"
Shyam froze mid-cut.
> "Yup, we're upgrading to someone with more industry experience. Gotta keep leveling up, right?"
"Thanks to my old editor, though. You know who you are."
No name. No credit. No DM. Nothing.
Just a public goodbye dressed in fake gratitude.
He stared at the screen. Eyes wide. Cursor blinking. Hands trembling.
> "She didn't even…" he whispered.
Ping.
Ayani:
> "I just saw. Please… don't vanish on me, Pixie."
But he already had.
He shut down his system. Logged out. Closed every tab that reminded him of her.
The betrayal wasn't just professional—it was personal. He gave her his skills, his time, his art… his heart. And she dropped him like an outdated plugin.
A week passed.
No messages from Raitha.
But Ayani kept knocking.
> "Wanna watch trashy anime?"
"I'm outside your virtual house with a bat and cookies."
"Don't make me code a virus called SadPixie.exe."
He finally gave in.
She called him.
"Dude," she started. "You look like a sock that's been through a blender."
"Thanks," he muttered.
"You were everything to her channel, you know?"
"Apparently not enough."
"She's stupid," Ayani said plainly.
He raised an eyebrow. "That's your sister."
"She's still stupid," she snapped. "And blind. You were the only one who saw her dream before anyone else did."
Shyam chuckled bitterly. "Yeah, and then she drop-kicked me from it."
Ayani grew quiet. Then, softly:
"You know what hurts me the most?"
"What?"
"She never deserved you. But you deserved someone better. Someone who wouldn't just use your magic—but protect it."
Their silence was heavy. Warm. Familiar.
Then she added, with a playful smirk in her voice:
"And also someone who can cook instant noodles without starting a fire."
"Are you… applying?" he asked.
She laughed. "Duh. I've been in the running since your first sparkly transition."
He looked at the screen. Her icon glowed beside his. Still here. Still orbiting.
Something flickered inside him. Not quite love. Not quite healing. But something close.
For now… it was enough.