Bach's Goldberg Variations played softly in the background while Sophia paced her apartment. Her encounter with Lucas Chen left her feeling irritated. That boy had the audacity to claim that her approach to music was out of date, since that's what he was, just out of college. According to which she must "connect with audiences." As though she hadn't honed her skills for decades.

"Mom? Emma replied, glancing up from her laptop at the kitchen island, "You're making me feel lightheaded."

Sophia realized she had been murmuring to herself and stopped suddenly. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Had the most vexing meeting just now.

"With who?" Emma shut down her laptop, intrigued by her mother's strange restlessness.

"A tech startup. Cadenza? Operated by this conceited young man named Lucas Chen, who believes that classical music must be "gamified" in order to thrive. Sophia's voice was brimming with contempt as she made air quotes with her fingers.

Emma's gaze expanded. "Hold on—Lucas Chen? "He talks with his hands, has dark hair, and intense eyes."

Sophia hesitated. "You know him?"

"We attended Advanced Music Theory and Composition Tech together at Juilliard. Mom, he's literally a genius. He was conducting graduate-level algorithm work as a freshman." Emma leaned forward. "What's his startup about?"

Sophia sighed, poured herself a glass of Cabernet. "Some platform that combines classical performances into interactive digital experiences. He wanted me to be their 'featured artist.'" Another collection of air quotes.

"And you said no." It wasn't a question.

"Of course I said no! It's cheesy and reductive." Sophia took a drink of wine. "Classical music isn't meant to be dissected by algorithms and turned into... whatever it is he's creating."

Emma was quiet for a moment. "Did you actually see the platform?"

"I didn't need to. I've seen enough of these digital 'innovations' come and go."

Emma closed her laptop entirely and eyed her mother with a look Sophia recognized—the same expression Emma had worn as a teenager when she believed her mother was being particularly obtuse.

"Mom, classical music is dying."

"It is not dying. It's timeless." Sophia's defense was automatic.

"Your past three gigs were at half capacity. The Westfield Symphony just dissolved after eighty years." Emma's voice was soft but firm. "The average age of classical audiences is over sixty. If someone like Lucas is trying to bridge that gap—"

"By simplifying and commercializing the art form? No thank you."

"That's not fair. You didn't even look at what he's created." Emma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture that reminded Sophia terribly of herself at that age. "Lucas isn't some Silicon Valley dude attempting to disrupt classical music. He's conservatory-trained, just like us. He realizes what's at stake."

Sophia set down her glass. "You seem to know an awful lot about him."

A little flush tinted Emma's cheeks. "He was well-known on campus. Everyone expected him to pursue the traditional route—he's an amazing pianist. But he was always talking about making classical music accessible to new generations."

"Accessible," Sophia scoffed. "Code for watered down."

"No, Mom. Code for not letting Mozart and Bach die with their contemporary audience." Emma's voice increased slightly. "When was the last time you saw someone under thirty at one of your concerts who wasn't dragged there by their parents?"

The question hovered in the air between them. Sophia opened her mouth to protest, but her phone rang. Her manager's name showed on the screen.

"Marcus, hi—" Her greeting was cut short as she listened. Emma watched her mother's face sink, the color draining from her cheeks. "I see. Yes. No, I understand. Thank you for letting me know."

She hung up and laid the phone down gingerly, as if it could shatter.

"What happened?" Emma questioned.

"The Eastern States Concert Series. They're canceling my tour. Ticket pre-sales were..." Sophia swallowed hard. "Insufficient."

Emma stretched over the counter and squeezed her mother's hand. "I'm sorry."

Sophia nodded, resisting the sting behind her eyes. Three cancellations in six months. Her manager's cleverly worded excuses couldn't mask the reality: fewer people wanted to hear her play.

"Maybe," Emma answered slowly, "it wouldn't harm to at least check what Lucas is giving. Classical music needs innovation to survive, Mom. Even if it's not the kind of invention you're comfortable with."

Sophia's phone pinged with a notification. An email from Cadenza with a link to download their beta app.

"Promise me you'll at least look at it," Emma pleaded. "Before dismissing it entirely."

Sophia gazed at her phone, torn between pride and pragmatism. Twenty-five years of critical acclaim meant nothing if concert halls kept emptying. If her music reached fewer and fewer ears. If her legacy ended with her.

"Fine," she conceded. "I'll look. But I'm not promising anything else."

Emma smiled, a mixture of relief and victory. "That's all I'm asking."

As Emma gathered her things to go, she halted at the door. "Just... be careful around Lucas."

Sophia looked up, astonished by her daughter's sudden shift in tone. "Careful? I assumed you were singing his praises."

"He's intelligent, but intense. Single-minded when he wants something." Emma adjusted her bag on her shoulder. "And he usually gets what he wants."

The warning in her daughter's voice was apparent. Sophia felt a spark of anxiety.

"I'm hardly some impressionable student, Emma. I think I can manage a tech entrepreneur with boundary difficulties."

Emma nodded, but her look remained serious. "Just know that Lucas Chen doesn't think like normal people. Everything is a mystery to be solved." She stepped forward and kissed her mother's cheek. "Even you."

After Emma left, Sophia stood alone in her apartment, the last notes of Bach fading into quiet.

With a long sigh, she took it up and clicked the link.