The office was quiet that afternoon, the kind of midsummer stillness that made the air feel thick and slow. Isabelle was at her desk, going through a report when she saw Eleanor Hale step out of the lift.
"Isabelle," Eleanor said sweetly, as she neared her desk, all composure and silk. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"
"Of course not," Isabelle said, standing automatically.
Eleanor's eyes flicked to the engagement ring on Isabelle's hand. The corners of her mouth lifted — not quite a smile. "So it's true, then. You and Robert Blake."
"Yes," Isabelle said carefully. "We're engaged."
"How lovely." Eleanor's tone was light, almost airy, but her gaze lingered too long. "You do move quickly, don't you?"
Isabelle smiled faintly. "Sometimes life surprises you."
"Oh, it certainly does," Eleanor said, drifting closer, her perfume strong and expensive. "I must admit, I didn't see this one coming. I always thought you and Richard had... something."
Isabelle's expression didn't flicker. "Richard has always been my boss. And a friend. No lines have ever been crossed, by either of us."
"Of course," Eleanor said, her tone deceptively mild. "Still, it explains why you chose someone more... available."
"Robert and I became close after he left Hale."
Eleanor tilted her head, the faintest smirk curling her lips. "You know, I've known Robert a long time. I remember when he and Lisa were married. He was utterly devoted to her. Tragic, really, how it all ended."
"People grow apart," Isabelle said evenly.
"Yes, well." Eleanor's eyes glimmered. "Some people move on. Others never quite do. Lisa was the love of his life — everyone knew it. He didn't date for years after his divorce. Until now, apparently."
The words landed like slow poison, each word measured, graceful, lethal.
"I do hope you're careful, Isabelle. Robert's very charming, but he's... complicated. He could sell ice to Eskimos, as they say. You might think you know him, but —" she smiled, eyes narrowing just a touch, "men like that always keep something back."
Isabelle held her gaze, her expression composed, her voice steady. "Thank you, Eleanor. I'll keep that in mind."
Eleanor's smile widened, all false warmth. "Of course. I only mean well. Congratulations, truly."
When she finally left, Isabelle sat down again. She stayed there for a long time, staring at her screen without seeing it. Her throat was tight, her pulse quick and uneven.
Then, almost without thinking. she grabbed her things and walked out.
Robert messaged her just after five.
Where are you? I came to pick you up. Did you leave early?
Then another message:
I'm outside. Are you still in the office?
Then:
Isabelle?
She turned her phone off and pressed her palms to her eyes.
Her mother looked up from the sofa when she came in, her face pale. "Izzy? What's happened?"
Isabelle shook her head, her voice barely audible. "I just... I can't talk about it right now."
Her mother hesitated, but didn't push. "Tea?"
Isabelle nodded mutely.
When the knock came later that night, it was soft, but insistent. Her mother was already in her room. The children were asleep. Isabelle opened the door to find Robert standing there — his tie gone, his expression lined with worry.
"Izzy," he said quietly, stepping inside. "You didn't answer my calls. I thought —"
"I know." She wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm sorry."
He studied her face for a moment, then closed the door behind him. "Tell me what happened."
"Nothing."
"Isabelle." His voice was low, firm. "Please."
She swallowed hard, shaking her head. "It's stupid."
"I doubt that."
She looked up at him then — eyes bright with unshed tears. "Eleanor Hale came to see me."
His jaw tightened. "What did she say?"
"She... she said things about you. About Lisa. About how you never moved on."
He went still. "And you believed her?"
"No," she said quickly. Then, softer, "I didn't want to. I just —" Her breath hitched. "I never asked you about your past because it didn't matter. You had a life before me, and that's fine. But now I can't stop thinking about it. About her. About whether you really did move on. Or if I'm just..." Her voice broke. "If I'm just what came next."
He exhaled, stepping closer, his voice quiet, but certain. "You're not what came next, Isabelle. You're what I never thought I'd have."
She looked at him, searching his face, trembling slightly. "Then tell me. Tell me what happened between you and Lisa. Tell me why you never moved on."
He hesitated, his throat working. Then he nodded slowly. "Alright. You deserve to know."
For a moment, Robert didn't speak. The silence stretched, heavy, but not uncomfortable — the kind that asks for honesty.
He looked down, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, his voice low when he finally spoke. "Lisa and I were married for five years. We met when I was working in foreign news — it was early in my career there, when I still thought I could change the world with a camera and a notepad."
Isabelle stayed quiet, watching him carefully.
"I spent most of that time in the Middle East," he went on, his words measured, reflective. "I covered everything — Syria, Afghanistan, Iraq. I'd be gone for months at a time. There were days when I didn't know if I'd make it back. And she..." He hesitated, his throat tightening. "She got tired of waiting."
He gave a small, almost apologetic smile. "I thought I was doing something meaningful. I thought if I worked hard enough, it would all be worth it. The time apart, the missed birthdays, the empty house. I thought love could wait."
Isabelle's heart ached at the quiet devastation in his voice.
"One day, I came home early," he said, eyes distant. "No warning. I wanted to surprise her." He drew a breath. "She wasn't alone. And when I confronted her, she told me she was pregnant. With his child."
The words hung there, unvarnished.
"I signed the divorce papers a week later." His tone was calm, but there was a faint tremor beneath it. "She married him soon after. I told myself it was my fault — that I'd been gone too much, that I'd chosen my work over her. And maybe I did. But the truth is, I was angry at myself for thinking I could have both — a life in war zones and a home to come back to."
He looked up at Isabelle then, his eyes clear, but tired. "After that, I didn't try again. I didn't think I deserved it. I thought... maybe some people aren't meant to have love and a family. Maybe that just wasn't written for me."
Her breath caught.
"But then," he said quietly, his voice softening, "you came along. And suddenly, I wasn't just looking forward to the next assignment, or the next deadline. I was looking forward to seeing you. To hearing your voice. To bringing you home."
He took a small step closer.
"What I feel for you, Isabelle... it's not like anything I've felt before. It's so much more. It's everything. You make me want to stay. You make me want to build something that lasts."
Tears stung her eyes before she could stop them.
He reached out, gently brushing his thumb across her cheek. "I would never hurt you. I would never neglect you. I spent years thinking I didn't deserve this — you, the children, the life we're building. But now that I have it, I swear to you, I'll move heaven and earth to protect it. To protect you."
Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Robert —"
He cupped her face in both hands, his voice breaking with quiet emotion. "You mean everything to me. You're not a second chance. You're the first time it's ever been real."
And for a long moment, neither of them spoke. She leaned into him, her forehead against his chest, feeling his heart beating steady beneath her ear — the truth of him, all of it.
The past, the pain, the promise of something new.
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as though he could shield her from every shadow that had ever touched them.
Outside, the city moved on, indifferent. But in that small, quiet space, they found what was wholly theirs — fragile and fierce and entirely true.