Emily had always been unlucky in love. By the time she turned thirty, she still hadn’t found a husband, so she decided to take matters into her own hands.
At first, she didn’t know Paul was married, but when he realised she’d grown attached to him, he stopped hiding the truth. Yet Emily never blamed him—instead, she scolded herself for falling into the affair and for her weakness. She felt flawed, as if she’d missed her chance at marriage while time slipped away. She wasn’t a beauty, but she had a pleasant face, though her slight plumpness might have added a few years. The relationship led nowhere. She didn’t want to stay as the other woman, but the thought of leaving Paul terrified her—she dreaded being alone.
One day, her cousin Jack dropped by. He was in town briefly for work and stopped to see her. Over lunch in the kitchen, they chatted about life, just like old times. Emily confided in him, tearfully admitting the mess she’d made of her love life.
Just then, her neighbour popped in, asking Emily to come over briefly to admire some new purchases. She stepped out for twenty minutes. While she was gone, the doorbell rang—Jack answered, assuming it was Emily returning. But standing there was Paul, who froze at the sight of a burly man in joggers and a T-shirt, munching on a ham sandwich.
“Is Emily home?” Paul managed to ask.
“She’s in the shower,” Jack replied instantly.
“And you are…?” Paul stammered.
“Paul, was it? The married bloke she told me about?” Jack grabbed him by the collar. “Listen here. If I catch you near her again, I’ll toss you down the stairs. Got it?”
Paul tore free and bolted. When Emily returned, Jack told her what happened.
“What did you do?” she cried. “He’ll never come back now!” She sank onto the sofa, covering her face.
“Good riddance,” Jack said firmly. “Enough moping. I’ve got a proper man in mind for you—John, a widower from my village. He’s been fending off women since his wife passed. I’ll bring you to meet him when I visit again.”
Emily hesitated. “But I can’t just show up like that—it’s embarrassing!”
“Embarrassing is sneaking around with a married man, not meeting a decent, single one. Next time I’m here, we’re going.”
A few days later, Emily and Jack arrived in the village. His wife, Margaret, had set up a garden party for her birthday. Guests included neighbours, friends, and John, the quiet widower. Emily had never met him before.
After a warm evening, Emily returned to the city, quietly noting how reserved John was. “Poor man—still grieving,” she thought.
A week later, her doorbell rang unexpectedly. To her shock, John stood there, holding a small bag.
“Sorry to drop in,” he said awkwardly. “I was in town shopping and thought, since we’ve met…”
Emily invited him in, puzzled but polite. Over tea, they talked about trivial things until, as he was leaving, John suddenly turned.
“I’ve thought of you all week,” he blurted out. “Couldn’t wait to see you again.”
Emily flushed. “We barely know each other…”
“But you don’t dislike me?” He fidgeted. “I’m no prize—I’ve got a little girl, eight years old…”
“A daughter?” Emily smiled softly. “I’d love a child.”
Encouraged, John took her hands and kissed her. When he pulled back, her eyes glistened.
“Was that alright?” he asked nervously.
“More than alright,” she whispered. “It feels honest… not stolen.”
They met every weekend after that. Two months later, they married and moved to the village. Emily found work at a nursery, and within a year, she had a baby girl. Both children grew up loved equally, and with each passing year, Emily and John’s happiness deepened like aged wine.
At gatherings, Jack would wink at her. “See? Told you I’d find you a real man. You’re blooming—never doubt your brother!”
Sometimes, the best love comes when you least expect it—not from chasing what’s wrong, but from letting go and embracing what’s right.
