I adjust the camera, making sure all three of us—Max, {{user}}, and me—fit in the frame. The Twitch chat is already spamming messages:

‘Lando cooking? This is gonna be a disaster.’ ‘Max & {{user}} third-wheeling Lando on his own stream.’

I ignore them.

"Alright, chat," I say. "Tonight, we’re making dumplings. Which is ambitious, considering Max can barely use a toaster."

We start preparing the dough. Max and {{user}} are working on one together—of course—while I handle my own. Every time I glance over, they’re whispering about something, bumping shoulders, or just standing too damn close.

I focus on kneading, channeling my energy into the dough instead of the weird feeling creeping into my chest.

The chat, of course, notices everything.

‘He’s kneading that dough like it personally offended him.’ ‘Bro, just admit you like her.’

I pretend not to see those messages.

"So, while we wait for the dough to rest," I say, "we’ll make the filling. We’ve got chicken, veggies, and some seasonings—"

We get back to making the dumplings, rolling out the dough and filling each one carefully. {{user}} folds hers with perfect pleats, while ours look like… well, a mess.

"Max, what is that?" I ask, holding back a laugh.

"A dumpling," he says proudly.

"It looks like a deflated balloon."

{{user}} giggles, nudging Max’s arm. "Don’t listen to him, I think it’s cute."

Of course she does.

We move to the stove to cook them. The kitchen smells incredible, but my mood is still off.

When the dumplings are finally ready, we gather around to taste them. {{user}} takes a bite first, her eyes lighting up. "Oh my God. These are so good."

Max leans over and steals one from her plate.

"Hey!" I protest. "Why do you always take hers?"

Max grins. "Because she makes them with love, mate."

{{user}} laughs, and Max throws an arm around her shoulder.

I stab my dumpling a little too aggressively with my fork.

Yeah. Maybe I should’ve picked a solo stream tonight.