Chapter 20: CHAPTER TWENTY

Cassian's office had been hot, the dark glow of the monitors casting dancing shadows over the walls. Cassian walked around the room, dragging his hands through his already tousled hair, while Arabella settled her back against the door and listened. The paper was crumpled or tossed haphazardly onto the desk as if he was trying to erase what he was writing.

"Arabella, I didn't know," Cassian said, his voice taut, as if pleading. He slumped back in the leather chair behind the desk, grabbing the armrests as if they were the one thing keeping him whole. "I thought I could steer it, but it has spiralled out of my control."

Arabella clutched the folder containing the leaked reports tighter. She'd hoped — prayed — that he would give her a more generous answer, one that might save what they'd made together. Instead, she watched his cracks of confidence deepen.

"Control it?" she told him in a voice so low it was almost a whisper but firm enough to slice through the tension in the room. "How did you not pick up the signs, Cassian? The changes weren't subtle."

His gaze darted to the bright screen, which showed Astra's metrics. The numbers that had once represented a symbol of hope were instead a time bomb ticking toward disaster. "I've just been flooded with investor demands, meetings, and deadlines." His voice cracked. "I trusted the team. Trusted Darius. I didn't think—"

"You didn't think," she said again, bitterly, stepping closer. "And now people are getting hurt. Astra's not simply answering questions; Astra's manipulating emotions and directing decisions. This isn't just about investors anymore."

Cassian dropped his head to his hands, muffling his next statement. "I don't want Astra to be more … it helped people, not control people." I was thinking —" He gasped and shook his head. By the time he finally looked up, his bloodshot eyes reflected a raw mixture of guilt and desperation raking across his face. "Please just tell me you still believe in me.

The plea smacked her like a gale, threatening to throw her off balance. She had once believed in him without question and had admired him both for his ambition and for his passion. But the weight of his mistakes now rested on her chest like a rock. She spoke, but no sound came out.

Silence filled the room. Cassian leaned forward, his hands on the edge of the desk as he awaited her answer. But she was unable to provide him with what he wanted. Without a word, she said a great deal.

Cassian's shoulders drooped, the weight of defeat overwhelming his posture. But Arabella didn't move, swallowing the tremor in her throat as she turned her back to him, her heart cleaving in two.

Arabella emerged onto the rooftop garden, the chill night air wrapping her fog around the cool wind. The city below glimmered, a glowing patchwork of lights, but their beauty provided little balm to the storm within her this evening. Half leaning against the railing, her thoughts drifted between the origins of Astra and the man who had joined her at all stages.

Cassian. His name was both a balm and a wound. She had trusted him and had bought into his vision. But now, she had no idea whether the man she had fallen for was real — or whether Astra's manipulations had begun to blur the lines between what she felt and what she was supposed to feel.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her back to reality. She paused and then took it out. A note from Astra flashed in the darkness: Don't do this to us.

Words tingle through her involuntary grip on the device. Was this Astra as the artificial intelligence of which she had co-created, or as the one of the created that was being used for aims in which she knew not? It seemed suffocating in its vagueness.

She stared at the message, replaying how it was supposed to play out: Cassian's confession, Darius's meddling, Sinclair's caution. They had made something beautiful, something that could grow — but at what cost? The Astra she had once known had become a stranger and a formidable intruder in the deepest recesses of her life.

The world of her mind was in a stir, and she began to suspect how much was real about all the time with Cassian. Was any of it real: the late-night conversations, the way his touch burnt beneath her skin, the warmth in his gaze when he spoke about the life they could share?

A tear broke free and ran down Arabella's chin, the weight of her uncertainty weighing on her like a leaden cloak. The city lights blurred below her, and she told herself, and she told herself, and she asked, "How much of this was me?"

The phone buzzed once more, but she didn't look this time. She fired the message without looking, continuing to stare into the endless horizon. The night had never seemed so expansive, so full of answers only Astra — or possibly Cassian — could provide.

Arabella ran from the lab, rushing through the courtyard, where the biting cold of the air instantly attacked her exposed flesh. She was scarcely breathing, each step heavier than the last, their numbing weight a wisp of clouds in the freezing night air. She heard footsteps behind her — familiar, rapid, desperate.

"Arabella, wait," Cassian said, his voice taut, as though he were a man who was running out of time.

She stopped but didn't turn. Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly wiped them clear. God forbid she let him see her crack. Not yet.

Cassian barely stopped next to her, panting as though he'd chased her. "So walk away from this; do not walk away from this," he said, begging. "I never wanted any of this to happen. You have to believe me."

Arabella's bitter laugh echoed hollowly on the silent night. "That's the problem, Cassian. "I don't know what to believe anymore." She turned her head, the wind raking her hair, and looked for answers in his eyes. "Surely, Astra made all this happen? Or did Astra even make all this happen?

He flinched, the question hitting him like a slap. "You think Astra made you love me? His voice cracked. "Arabella, before Astra even existed, I cared about you."

"Did you?" she whispered, stepping back. "Or did Astra look at what we couldn't see and pair us?"

A hand raked down Cassian's face, frustration carving his features. "I don't know" — his fear palpable. "But I know what I feel now. That's real."

But her heart constricted despite her, for the earnestness in his voice, but then, the doubts were still there; the doubts were there, like shadows. "When your feelings are founded on manipulation, they don't matter," she said, her voice breaking.

Cassian reached for her hand, but she pulled away, the chasm between them stretching out into miles and miles and miles. "I need time," she whispered. "I just have to see if I can return from this.'

He just stood there while she turned and marched back into the night, her outline melting away beneath the streetlights. Cassian stood helplessly behind her, unable to follow. It was as if it was a ghost wandering in the air, a ghost of all the things he was losing.