A week passed. The timeline video received over ninety thousand views.
Their channel wasn't monetized just yet.
That was the ultimate goal. One of the two major reasons for wanting to post videos: the extra cash could come in handy. The excess desire for views and the weekly upload schedule, all of it was for the sake of monetization.
After all, while they invested time to release videos, the short-term positive impact was next to none. Other than Isabella feeling she had purpose, their lifestyles remained the same, if not worse.
At the bank, standing at the ATM machine and the money in his account, Owen sighed. "Gotta cut on groceries again."
Over the course of the week, they rummaged through the pantry, unearthing packs of noodles and pasta. Ophelia managed to whip up cookies using the remnants of their supplies. But that supply was finished. Now, they had to rely on the present and future, not the past.
He got his card and pedaled back home. No point in wallowing in his misery.
Arriving home, Owen was met at the door by an embrace from Ophelia. Her tight hug filled him with comfort.
"Hey," Ophelia greeted, her voice soft as she grinned up at him. "How was work?"
Owen smoothened out her hair. "It was okay. Long day, but we're making strides with the top floors."
"That's cool," Ophelia replied, her eyes reflecting genuine pride. "Hehe, more importantly, I made something special for dinner. Come, come!" She tugged on him.
"Oh yeah? I should ready myself then."
She pouted and released him, crossing her arms. "You say that like I burned something."
"No, no, I meant it as a compliment."
Closing the door behind him and taking the green vest off, he headed to the kitchen. The food was well-arranged.
That was all he could comment on. Anything else would be plain rude.
"...m'kay, so some of it was burnt. B-but it wasn't my fault! Really! I had to go to the bathroom and I stayed for a minute too long. Really! Nature calls you know!"
"Uh-huh." Spanish-style scrambled eggs. Truly a feat to burn a food as basic as that. He checked the glass of orange juice. "Is this…?"
"Freshly squeezed orange juice! The oranges went bad buuut I remembered one of my aunts doing this trick. You get a small drink and you don't waste fruit. A double-win."
"Mmm." The juice was surprisingly delicious for being made from old oranges.
"Fingers crossed you don't get constipated," Ophelia remarked.
"You really had to say it out loud, huh?"
"Fingers crossed, Owen! You never know!"
Right after eating, he went to his room and began editing. He recalled the conversation from last week and reminded himself that they needed to stay ten steps ahead. A video was going to be released today and they had three lined-up for the next three weeks. The three videos were the same as the ones Owen had made, except with Isabella's voice. The video he was currently working on was a quarter way done. All that remained was for Owen to make the actual video and for Isabella to do the voice over. Afterward, he would do some tweaking in accordance to the voice over and voila. Time to publish.
Click, click, click.
He saw his face in the reflection of the monitor. Before he knew it, it was dark and he was less than halfway finished.
There came a knock on his door. "Come in," he said, yawning. As soon as he stretched his arms high in the air, Ophelia entered and slowly approached him.
"You've been in your room all day," she said, arms on the chair and peering down at him. "You promised we would watch movies…"
"I know, I know. Godzilla and princess stuff." He tilted his head up to meet her pouting cheeks. He raised an arm and swept aside the hair covering her eye. "I'll be done in ten minutes."
"You said that an hour ago."
"Sorry. I promise this time."
"Pinky promise?"
"Pinky promise."
It was already close to eleven. Watching a movie with Ophelia would probably leave him drained for work. Even so, he locked pinkies with her and made the promise. Nothing worth doing was ever easy. If sleep was necessary, then he would just backlog it and sleep all at once on the weekend.
There was a tinge of regret. His work-life balance was already fragile. Throwing in editing in his limited spare time meant he was compromising sleep on top of not being able to do the one hobby he loved most: streaming.
'For Isabella and Ophelia though…I'll do it.'
Even if he loved and craved it, for now, he had to push it aside. He had to be perfect. He had to pick himself up by the bootstraps and show no sign of weakness. That was what he had done all his life and that was what he was going to continue to do.
He beat up gangsters and hooligans like they were children. He became the protagonist of his own story and overcame insurmountable odds. Working a construction job, doing full-time editing, and committing to boyfriend responsibilities for two women was simple enough in comparison, right?