Isabelle leaned back in her chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her coffee cup. Late afternoon sunlight spilled across the flat, warm and golden, but all she could focus on was the question Robert had just asked.
"So," he said, leaning across the table, his gaze steady, "let me ask you something… purely hypothetical."
Her brow arched, half amused, half wary. "Hypothetical?"
"Yes," he said, smiling faintly. "Suppose you could run your own company. Completely yours. No constraints, no one telling you what to do. What would you… do?"
She tilted her head, thinking. "I suppose… something meaningful. Something that makes a difference. Something that helps people who don't get the support they need." She paused, swallowing. "I know what it's like to feel stuck. To do everything right and still not feel enough — to be held back for reasons beyond your control."
Robert waited, quiet and patient, letting her words settle between them.
"I've had to put so much of my life on hold," she continued, her voice low. "After the divorce, after… everything, it was just me and the kids. And the only person who stepped up? My mother. Mum gave me her time, her energy, everything she had. She made sure I could work, that the kids were fed, that I could even… survive. I put my own wishes and needs aside, day after day, just to make sure she and the children had what they needed. I couldn't have done it without her." Her eyes glistened, a mix of pride and exhaustion.
Robert reached across the table, brushing a hand lightly over hers. "You won't have to do that again," he said quietly. "You'll never have to carry that alone again."
She looked at him, unsure. "Robert, I —"
"I understand," he interrupted gently. "I know what it's like to have everything taken from you. To be alone. Lonely. And that's exactly why I want to do this with you. To give you the autonomy you deserve. To let you thrive — not just survive. You're capable of so much more than managing Richard's office. You've always deserved more."
Her chest tightened at his certainty, and she took a deep breath. "I've always felt like… I had to make do. Never ask for more. Never dream too big. Just keep moving, keep everything afloat."
Robert's eyes softened. "What's your vision?"
She looked thoughtful for a moment before replying. "I'd focus on what's missing. The things that make women feel trapped — lack of childcare, no guidance, no mentorship. The cost of living. Legal hurdles. Opportunities to train, to step up into management. To be seen, really seen, as capable leaders — not just lucky to have a job."
"Then that's exactly what we'll do," Robert said, eyes bright. "Build infrastructure. Support. Pathways. Real solutions that make life possible for women balancing work and family."
Her lips parted slightly. "It's… ambitious."
"And achievable," he said, a small, steady smile on his face. "Because it's built on what you already know. Your experience. Your empathy. Your understanding of what it really takes to keep a life together when the world isn't helping you."
He leaned forward slightly. "Now you can stop making do. Now you can build. This business… it's not just about clients, it's not just about work. It's about giving women the tools to live their lives fully — just like you should have been able to do all along."
She smiled faintly, then with real warmth. "And I… I want to help women stop feeling the way I felt. Invisible. Stuck. Overlooked. I want to give them what I never had. Autonomy. Opportunity. Support. The chance to thrive."
Robert's smile deepened. "Then let's start there. That's the mission. That's what it'll be for. That's what we'll build."
"You make it sound… doable."
Robert leaned forward, fingers lightly brushing hers again. "It's not just doable. It's essential. And I'll be here. Every step. You won't be doing this alone."
She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of years and the lift of possibility at the same time. "It won't be easy," she admitted.
"No," he said, eyes steady. "But nothing worth building ever is. I trust you. I've seen what you can do. We'll make it real together."
She looked down at her hands, imagining her mother — the sacrifices she had made, the life she had shielded them from. "I could never have done this without Mum," she said softly. "She's been the only person who believed in me completely."
Robert brushed his thumb along her knuckles, warm and grounding. "I believe in you, Isabelle. You won't have to worry about anything anymore. I'll make sure you can focus on what matters — your kids, your life, your work — and not just survive, but thrive."
She nodded slowly, her heart lifting a little. "I want it to mean something real. Not just a slogan. Not just words on a website. I want it to change things. To give women a real chance."
"It will," he said, eyes steady on hers. "Because it's yours. Because it's going to matter."
She exhaled slowly, the tension of years of compromise and survival falling away, replaced with quiet determination. "Then let's make it matter," she whispered.
She laughed softly, a little breathless. "And the name… the name has to mean that too. It's not about us. Not about me. Something that tells women they deserve more — that they can aim higher."
Robert's eyes softened. "We'll discuss that. There's no rush. Think for a while and see what comes to you."
"Because it's more than a name," he said, voice low and certain. "It's your message, your story, and the legacy we'll build."
A slow smile spread across her face, fragile and hopeful. "We're… really doing this? Can we really do it?"
He leaned back, a satisfied, quiet smile tugging at his lips. "Of course. Let's start."
For the rest of the evening, they worked through ideas for structure, potential clients, outreach programs, and training initiatives. Isabelle sketched frameworks for mentorship programs and flexible work initiatives. Robert built spreadsheets for funding and operations, quietly grounding the vision in practical terms. Their synergy was effortless, their laughter frequent, their occasional debates gentle but precise, each argument sharpening the plan rather than fracturing it.
At one point, Isabelle paused, leaning back in her chair. "You really think this can work? I mean… people might not understand. They might think it's too idealistic."
Robert reached over, resting his hand lightly on hers. "Isabelle… you've spent years proving that the world underestimates you. This isn't about idealism. It's about necessity. About giving women the tools to thrive the way you deserve to. And you — you are more than ready to lead that."
Her chest tightened with emotion. "I've never felt ready for something like this before."
"You are," he said, quiet but firm.
She looked up at him then and felt something shift inside her. Not just hope. Not just excitement. Something deeper — a sense of possibility she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years.
That night, as they closed laptops and stacked papers, Isabelle felt lighter than she had in years. The city outside had quieted, but inside, in her small flat turned command centre, the world felt as though it were starting anew.
Robert reached for her hand as they headed to bed. "You know… this isn't just a business," he said softly. "It's a chance for everything you've worked for to finally mean something. For you, for the women who come after you. For the future."
She squeezed his hand, a quiet, resolute promise. "Then let's make it unforgettable."
With her heart racing with excitement and nerves, she realised that, finally, she wasn't just surviving. She was starting to live.