Both phones go off

We were still standing in the kitchen when it happened.

Veronica had just pulled the wet singlet away from her skin with a grimace, the coffee stain dark and obvious across her chest and stomach. I was reaching for a clean tea towel to help when both of our phones went off at the same time.

Not a single notification. Not even a couple.

Both devices started vibrating and ringing in a constant, overlapping barrage — mine on the counter where I’d left it, hers in the pocket of her track pants.

We froze.

I grabbed my phone first. The screen was already lighting up with missed calls and messages stacking on top of each other.

HR – Sarah: Please call me back as soon as possible. We need to speak urgently.

Unknown Number: Is this Tom? We have questions about the video.

Mick (Group Chat): Bro… is that you in the stream?

Dave: Mate. Is that actually you with that streamer chick?

My stomach dropped.

I looked over at Veronica. She had her phone in her hand now, staring at the screen. Her expression shifted from confused to grim in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

Her phone kept buzzing. Message after message. Call after call. I could see some of the names flashing across her screen — regulars from her stream, other creators, even one from her streaming platform’s support team.

She looked up at me, eyes wide but steady.

“Someone clipped it,” she said quietly. “Or at least part of it. It’s spreading in a couple of the bigger discords and on Twitter. People are starting to figure out who you are.”

My phone buzzed again in my hand.

Jay: Dude the group chat is losing it. Mick thinks it’s you. Is it?

I didn’t answer him. I just stared at Veronica.

The kitchen suddenly felt too small. The coffee stain on her singlet, the half-eaten breakfast on the table, the easy domestic morning we’d been having — it all felt like it belonged to a different version of today. One where the worst thing that had happened was an HR investigation and some awkward jokes in a group chat.

This was worse.

This was the clip spreading. This was people connecting the dots between the tall guy in the chair and me. This was my name potentially getting dragged into something I couldn’t control.

Veronica’s phone rang again. She glanced at it, then silenced it without answering.

“We need to check what’s actually out there,” she said, voice calm but tight. “Before we panic. It might just be gossip and screenshots so far. Not the full thing.”

I nodded, but my mind was already racing.

The job. The investigation. My mates. Her audience. The fact that forty-seven people had accidentally watched us fuck and now it was apparently becoming a thing people were sharing and talking about.

I looked at her — standing there in the ruined singlet, coffee still drying on her skin, watching me with that same steady calm she’d carried since Saturday.

Part of me wanted to lose it.

The rest of me just wanted to pull her against me and pretend none of this was happening.

My phone buzzed again.

Another message from Mick.

Mick: If that’s actually you… holy shit mate.

I locked the screen and set the phone face-down on the counter.

Veronica stepped closer and rested a hand on my arm.

“Breathe,” she said quietly. “We deal with one thing at a time. First we figure out exactly what’s out there. Then we decide what to do.”

I nodded again, but the knot in my stomach wasn’t going anywhere.

The day had started with breakfast and clumsy spills and the fragile beginnings of an idea.

Now both our phones were still lighting up, and the thing we thought was contained was clearly no longer contained.

Something unexpected had just knocked on our door.

And it wasn’t going away quietly.