16. Building Something Real
BUILDING SOMETHING REAL
NEHA
S ix months ago, Ansel left Sterling & Co. Investments, walking away from a career in high finance and a high six-figure salary.
I worried he’d regret it, and miss the thrill of big dollar deals. After all, he had spent his entire career climbing the corporate ladder. But he surprised me, and I think himself, by enjoying what he considered his time off to figure out what he wanted to do as he said, when he grows up.
He spoke to many people in his network, toyed with different ideas, and, in between making espressos and lattes at Sun & Chai, mapped out a business plan that he said made him hopeful.
He hadn’t told me much about it, and I understood his need to do this himself—work out the kinks and get comfortable with it before sharing .
But today, he was ready to let me in, and I couldn’t wait to hear his plans.
“So, what do you think?” he asked as we entered the fifth modern office space we had toured that day.
His hands rested casually in his pockets as his eyes swept over a sunlit room that boasted an open layout, sleek contemporary furniture, and an inviting buzz of untapped possibility.
The other four had been total duds, but this one….
“Can you hear that?” I put a hand behind my ear.
“What?” Ansel looked around the room.
“The whisper of promises.”
He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed the side of my head. “You see promise here?”
“Yep. Now, tell me what is it that you’ll be doing?” I pulled away from him and sat on an office chair.
Ansel pulled out his phone, flipped through some screens, and handed it to me.
Tyler & Rao Microfinance Initiative .
I looked at him flabbergasted. Of all the things I thought he’d do this one hadn’t been on my bingo card.
“There’s more.”
He opened a document on his phone, and I quickly scanned its contents: financial projections, operational costs, and an initial investment plan.
My breath hitched. “A microloaning firm, that’s what you’ve been working on?”
Ansel nodded. “A global one. Focused on helping women start businesses. Small-scale lending, sustainable economic growth, investing in communities that traditional banks ignore.” He paused, watching me closely.
"I know you’re passionate about this. So, I figured—why not actually do something with this? "
I was absolutely floored.
I was a huge fan of Muhammad Yunus, the Nobel Prize-winning economist from Bangladesh, who pioneered this kind of microfinance model decades ago, proving that small, low-interest loans could change lives.
It wasn’t charity. It was empowerment—giving women, especially in developing countries, the financial independence to build businesses, support their families, and lift entire communities.
And Ansel—the man who once cared only about seven-figure M&A deals and corporate power plays—was now telling me this modest business was what he wanted to run.
I handed him his phone back. “You’re serious about this?” I asked unnecessarily.
He dipped his head and kissed my nose. “Dead serious.”
A rush of excitement flooded my chest. "Do you even know what you're getting into?"
He grinned. “Some, but I’m not going to be alone am I?”
“You mean the Tyler & Rao name isn’t a big fat hint?” Excitement raced through me.
“I know you like what you do, but I think this will be better. ”
You could take the man out of the suit but couldn’t take the confidence out of the man. Ansel had changed in many ways, but at his core, he was the same—he was a little on that side of arrogant, and honestly, I didn’t mind it.
"Ansel Tyler, I cannot believe this is the direction you took."
He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles and stood me up. “I figured if I was going to spend my life working on something, it should be something that makes a difference.”
I tightened my grip on his hand. “I can’t wait to make a difference with you.”
His smile was slow, steady, and grateful. “I’m really glad you’re falling into step with my plan, baby.”
I sighed, giving a dramatic tilt of my head. “I want to do this. You are not making me do anything.”
“No, of course not”—he kissed my mouth—“said every master manipulator.”
I slapped my hands lightly against his chest. “I'm so proud of you,” I said, each word imbued with a warmth that made the space between us feel both intimate and charged with promise.
He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and produced an envelope.
I eyed it suspiciously but took it when he handed it to me. “What is it?”
“A partnership offer.”
I appreciated the significance of his words, and my fingers tightened around the document. “Equal partners?”
Nodding slowly, he continued, “You’ve always been more than just an assistant , Neha. You were the one who kept me afloat back at Sterling, the person I trust above all. I don’t want you to work for me—I want you to build this with me.”
With a teasing glimmer in my eyes, I challenged further, “And when I disagree with you?”
“Then I’ll be smart enough to listen.”
I laughed, and the joy of it mingled with the quiet possibility in the room.
I pulled him into a kiss—soft, sure, filled with every unsaid apology, every hard-won second chance that had defined our journey.
“I have some concerns about this partnership.”
He raised both eyebrows. “Even before you read the agreement?”
Ignoring the playful tilt of his mouth, I continued, “ Yes . I believe there’s nothing here about living arrangements.”
He raised his brows in a knowing arc. “You’re absolutely right. What are your demands, Miss Rao of Tyler & Rao?”
“It seems a bit inefficient for business partners to be hopping between two separate apartments all the time.” I smiled teasingly. “You asked me to be your business partner, might as well find out if we can make it work sharing a closet.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I love Penny, baby, but I’m not living with her.”
I gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Maybe we could get a new place since yours is almost sold?”
He delicately cupped my face with both hands. “Anything you want, baby.” A quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped him. “And here I thought I was the one making all the big moves today.”
Feigning thoughtful consideration, I replied, “Oh, don’t worry. You get to make the next big move.”
His grip tightened gently on my jaw. “You’re talking about marriage.”
Tilting my head ever so slightly, I offered, “You have mentioned it once or twice.”
More than once. More than twice. Lately, those words had woven their way into our conversations about the future that wasn’t solely mine or his, but unequivocally ours .
“So, you’re really saying yes to all of it?” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “The partnership, the moving in together, the becoming a fiancée, the marriage, the having kids?”
I set the envelope aside and let my hands glide up his chest, over his shoulders, until my arms found their place around his neck. “I’m saying,” I whispered, my tone both playful and earnest, “ yes to everything with you .”
“So, anal?” he joked.
I pulled his mouth to mine in a kiss that conveyed all of our shared battles, regrets, and hard-won triumphs. His arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his embrace as I melted into the heat and certainty of the moment.
When we finally parted, our foreheads resting together, his breath uneven yet filled with dawning wonder, he softly murmured, “I love you.”
I smiled and traced my thumb over his jaw. “I love you, too.”
And that’s how we sealed our future—not with a contract or a business deal, but with the undeniable truth that had always mattered most. Us .