The days that followed their meeting had a strange stillness to them. It wasn't that business slowed down—it never did—but Evan found himself distracted. His mind kept returning to the conversation he had with Isabelle. The way she spoke, the ease in which she navigated difficult topics, and the quiet, unassuming way she challenged him.
Every encounter with her left him questioning things he had long taken for granted. His empire, the wealth, the power—it all felt like it had less weight now, somehow, in comparison to the brief moments he shared with her. Yet, there was one part of Evan's life that he hadn't fully shared with her, something that lingered in the back of his mind, casting shadows on his growing interest in Isabelle.
The weight of his past.
As he sat in his office one afternoon, his eyes drifting over the city skyline outside, his phone buzzed with a message from Isabelle. She had been in touch more frequently lately, sending occasional updates on the merger, but her messages always carried an undertone of something more personal—curiosity, perhaps. He had never been one for casual text exchanges, but with her, it felt different.
Lunch tomorrow? I have a few things on my mind. Isabelle.
Evan hesitated for a moment. The prospect of seeing her again brought a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. Part of him wanted to open up to her, but another part, the one that had built his success on silence and self-preservation, wasn't sure if he was ready to share more than what she already knew.
He typed a quick reply.
Lunch sounds good. My office?
She responded almost immediately.
See you at noon.
The following day, when Isabelle arrived, she seemed more composed than usual, her face unreadable. It was almost as if she had something weighing on her, something she was about to say but wasn't sure how to begin.
"Good afternoon," she said, as she entered the office, her eyes scanning the room before meeting his.
"Good to see you," Evan replied, standing up from his desk. There was a tension in the air, but he couldn't quite place it.
They sat down across from one another, the room quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning. Neither of them spoke immediately, both lost in their own thoughts. Evan could tell that something had shifted—there was a distance between them now, a subtle tension. It wasn't because of business; that was clear. It was something else.
Finally, Isabelle broke the silence. "I've been thinking," she began, her voice steady but cautious, "about what you said last time. About letting people in. About how hard that is."
Evan tilted his head, intrigued. "What about it?"
She hesitated, her eyes drifting down to her hands for a moment before looking back at him. "I get it. I do. It's hard to let anyone close, especially someone like you. But there's something you haven't told me. Something you're holding back."
Evan's heart rate quickened. "What do you mean?"
Isabelle's gaze softened, but her voice remained steady. "I can see it in the way you avoid certain questions. In the way you shift the conversation when it gets too personal. It's not just about your empire, Evan. There's something else you're afraid of."
He swallowed hard. She was right. There was a part of him, buried deep, that he hadn't shared with anyone. Not even Isabelle.
He leaned back in his chair, the weight of her words settling over him. "You're right," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "There's more. But I don't talk about it. Not with anyone."
Isabelle watched him closely, her expression unreadable but patient. "You don't have to tell me everything. But if you want to move forward, if you want to really let people in... you have to stop running from your past."
Evan took a deep breath, his thoughts drifting back to the years before his success, the years before he had built this fortress around him. A time he rarely allowed himself to think about.
He ran a hand through his hair, an unconscious gesture of frustration. "It's not something I'm proud of," he said quietly. "It's... it's messy. And I've spent my whole life trying to forget it. To bury it."
Isabelle didn't push him further, but she didn't look away, either. Her gaze was steady, understanding. "You don't have to do this alone, you know. Whatever it is. But you can't heal from something you won't face."
Evan's thoughts were a blur. He had spent so long distancing himself from his past that it felt like a foreign country, one he had no desire to visit. But Isabelle's words were different. They weren't accusatory or judgmental. They were simply... kind.
For the first time in a long time, Evan felt the urge to share. But he wasn't sure where to start. How to start.
"I had a family once," he said slowly, his voice betraying a hint of emotion he rarely allowed to surface. "My father was... controlling. He wanted me to take over everything. He thought I was his legacy. But I wasn't. Not really."
Isabelle didn't interrupt, but her eyes softened, her expression filled with empathy.
"I left home when I was eighteen. I wanted to do something for myself, something that wasn't dictated by him. But the guilt... it never went away. And when I started making money, building this... empire," Evan said with a bitter edge to his voice, "it felt like the only thing that mattered. But I never stopped to think about the cost of it all. The cost to me. To them."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air. Isabelle's silence was comforting, giving him the space to continue if he wanted to.
"I buried all of that," he whispered, almost to himself. "Because if I didn't, I knew it would ruin everything I built. It still feels like a ghost, following me."
Isabelle leaned forward, her voice gentle. "You don't have to bury it anymore. You've built your life, Evan. But that doesn't mean you have to be defined by your past."
The weight in Evan's chest eased slightly. Isabelle's words had a different kind of power. They didn't push him to move on, or to forget. They simply gave him permission to acknowledge his past without letting it dictate his future.
He looked at her, feeling something shift inside. Maybe it was the vulnerability he had shared, or maybe it was the quiet understanding in her eyes. Either way, something between them had changed.
And for the first time in a long time, Evan felt like he was no longer alone in facing what had once felt insurmountable.
"Thank you," he said softly, his voice a little rougher than usual.
Isabelle nodded. "Anytime."
The connection between them had deepened, no longer based solely on business or power, but something real. And Evan wasn't sure where it would take him, but for the first time in years, he wasn't afraid of the journey.