Dear Faye,

I keep thinking about that first morning. Two folding tables we borrowed from mum's garage, a rack of dresses we sewed by hand at your kitchen table until two in the morning, and exactly three customers who wandered in out of curiosity. We were so nervous that day we forgot to eat lunch.

Ten years. It still does not feel real when I write it down.

I think about every woman who walked through our door and told us she finally found something that fit, not just her body, but her life. The mum who came in looking for something to wear to her daughter's wedding and ended up crying quietly in the fitting room because, for once, she felt beautiful instead of just presentable. The woman who bought the same dress in three colours because she said it made her feel like herself again after years of feeling invisible. That is what we built, Faye. Not just a shop. A place where women felt seen.

You told me about the move so quietly, almost like you were afraid of how I would react. I will be honest, my heart broke a little. But I have watched you dream about this for years, and I know the same courage that walked you into that empty shop with me a decade ago is the same courage carrying you across the world now. I could never ask you to stay just because it would be easier for me.

So before we close this chapter, we wanted to give one final gift, not to ourselves, but to every woman who made the last ten years possible. Every piece we have left. Every design we are proud of. At prices that say thank you, not goodbye.

This is not the end of us, Faye. It is only the end of this particular chapter. Wherever you go next, you will always be the other half of this story.

With love, always and forever, Ivy