Sy walked to the sofa and settled next to Kassan. "What do you want for breakfast? I'll have the chef make something."
Kassan pulled her attention from the soccer match to her wife, who wasn't even looking at her. "Nah-ah."
Sy glanced up, brow arching. "What's 'Nah-ah' supposed to mean? Don't you want breakfast?" Kassan tilted her head, smiling.
"You cook it for me." Sy narrowed her eyes.
Obviously she didn't want to cook. But there was a family rule in that house — when a wife asked for food, it came from their spouse, not the household staff. The Dupen-Lee family held to it strictly.
So she had no choice. "Uh... okay. What do you want?" Sy asked, reluctant enough to make it known. "Something simple. Orange juice, a croissant, and... strawberries with chocolate." Kassan smiled at the last part while Sy pulled on a tight smile and headed to the kitchen.
"Have you decided on breakfast, Ms. Ngawang?" the chef asked. Sy stared at him, cold and unbothered. "I'll cook it myself."
"O— okay, Ms. Ngawang."
She pulled the ingredients from the refrigerator. "Honey, what's in the news today?" Kassan reached for the remote, switching channels. "Is the volume okay?" she asked —
"BREAKING REPORT — GLOBAL ARTS & TECH INVESTIGATION
AUREXIS under fire after shocking claims of neural learning manipulation surface!
International scrutiny has erupted around elite music institution and tech-education company AUREXIS, headed by acclaimed French pianist and CEO Kassandreau Dupen-Lee, after rival organization VERITAS HARMONY released what it claims is internal evidence of unethical training practices."
For a moment, both their hearts stopped. Sy rushed into the living room, staring at the screen. Kassandreau sat frozen, eyes unblinking, completely out of herself.
"According to VERITAS HARMONY's leaked presentation, AUREXIS allegedly accelerates student success through an advanced and controversial neuro-assist system. The report claims students are subjected to extreme conditioning programs combined with experimental neural interface technology designed to 'embed complex musical structures directly into cognitive processing pathways.'"
That news broke something open in the Dupen-Lee residence. Kassan's phone erupted with messages and calls. She was too stunned to even look at her wife. She sat back against the sofa, blank.
•••
The company held a press conference immediately. One hall, one question, a hundred different ways of asking it. The room was wide, packed with international media — cameras in rigid lines, AUREXIS branding deliberately minimal. The atmosphere was tense, nothing celebratory about it.
At the center podium stood Kassandreau Dupen-Lee.
She waited until the room quieted completely before speaking.
"I will address this once, clearly, and without interpretation layered on top."
Camera shutters flickered. "Are the allegations of neural implantation true?" the journalist at the front asked.
"No." Immediate murmur swept the room.
"Then how do you explain students achieving professional-level composition in under a year?" a second journalist asked.
Kassan didn't hesitate. "Because most systems teach music as theory first, and execution later. We do not separate them."
"That sounds like acceleration. Critics call it artificial enhancement." Another voice rose.
"Critics also once called recorded sound 'unnatural performance.'" The room paused before questions flooded back in.
"Speed is not artificiality. It is efficiency." Kassan added.
A reporter from the back raised his voice.
"VERITAS HARMONY claims students experience memory gaps and compulsive recall of compositions they never consciously studied."
Kassan's expression tightened slightly, but she held herself steady. "Memory gaps are medical claims. We are not a medical institution."
"That's not an answer."
"It is the boundary of my responsibility." The room grew louder — questions overlapping. A moderator stepped in, but Kassandreau raised one hand, silencing the interruption.
"I understand what you are trying to find." She looked across the press line. "You are trying to locate a single hidden mechanism that explains success you do not yet understand." She paused.
"There is no hidden switch."
"Then what is AUREXIS?"
Silence settled again. She stepped slightly forward. "AUREXIS is a structured environment where repetition, immersion, and cognitive pattern training are optimized for musical fluency." She continued, steady — "We reduce the time between recognition and expression. That is all."
A journalist called out sharply. "Isn't that just a controlled system of conditioning?"
Kassan took longer than usual before answering. Her mind moved through the room and its questions. Then — "All education is conditioning. The question is whether it liberates ability — or delays it."
A ripple moved through the room. Another hand went up. "Do students have full consent and understanding of the methods used?"
"Yes." And she added, "Any suggestion otherwise is currently under independent review."
The moderator announced the final question. A hand rose near the front.
"Do you think VERITAS HARMONY is lying?"
Kassan looked down for the first time, briefly.
When she raised her gaze again, her tone was colder. "I think they are interpreting something they cannot replicate." She met the cameras. "And calling that interpretation truth."
A long silence held. Cameras kept recording. No one spoke for a moment too long. Then Kassan stepped back from the podium.
"If AUREXIS is wrong, it will be proven in evidence."
"If it is right... it will be proven in results."
She left the podium. The questions resumed immediately — but she did not turn back.
•••
Rain pressed hard against the windows, turning the city into streaks of blurred gold and grey. Inside the Dupen-Lee residence, the air felt tightly held — like something had already cracked but hadn't broken yet.
The front door closed. Sy was already there, waiting. Not surprised. Not confused. Just certain.
Kassandreau stood near the piano, still dressed from the press conference. She looked like she hadn't left the storm outside — only carried it in.
"So it's true." Sy said. "You've already seen the reports." Kassan answered without turning around.
"I didn't ask if I saw them." Her voice was cold. "I asked if you believed him." That sat heavily in the room. Kassan turned around, fierce. It was about him — Tristian Vlastos. The one at the center of all of this.
"I didn't believe him." Sy let out a short, sharp laugh with zero warmth in it.
"You didn't believe him? Kassandreau, your entire statement sounded like you were reading his conclusions back to the world."
"He presented proof in a structured way. I responded to it." Kassan said, controlling herself even as the tension showed in her face.
Sy stepped forward immediately. "No. You didn't respond — you followed him." She continued, "Tristian says 'brainwashing,' and suddenly you're defending yourself like that word has already become true."
"You think I should ignore allegations that can destroy everything I've built?"
"I think you should have asked me before you trusted him over your own life." Sy's voice rose. That landed harder than either of them expected. Silence.
Then Kassan came back louder and harsher. "This is not about trust!" She continued, "This is about survival. They are tearing AUREXIS apart, Sy. Do you understand what that means?" She gestured sharply toward the world outside.
"I understand you picked him over yourself. Over me. Over everything we built."
"I didn't pick him!" Kassan's control fractured further.
"You did!" Sy stepped forward, voice direct but wavering. "You heard one investigator with a story and suddenly you started questioning everything except him." That landed.
Kassan's expression hardened, anger pushing through. "So what do you want from me?"
"Stop treating me like I'm against you just because I'm not applauding you." A beat.
Kassan's voice came back rawer. "If you can't handle what I'm dealing with, then don't stand here acting like you understand it!"
That was it. That line broke something. Sy stared at her in silence, sharp-eyed. She didn't hesitate. She didn't argue further. Just one word —
"Fine."
A pause.
"Then I won't." Kassan's expression shifted, slight — not quite understanding. Sy took one step back, then another. Her voice dropped, low and raw.
"You don't need me. You need someone who agrees with you."
Their eyes held on each other. "Okay. Let's end this then." Kassan's brows pulled together. "What do you mean, Sy?"
"I want a divorce."
Silence.
Kassandreau didn't respond.
Didn't move.
Didn't even breathe the same way.
The rain outside suddenly felt louder than anything inside the room.
"...what?"