An Unexpected Bouquet and a Twist of Fate
Hazel sat alone in her tiny flat in the quiet town of Wellingborough when a sharp knock shattered the silence. Reluctantly, she rose from the sofa and peered through the peephole. A young man stood there, clutching an enormous bouquet of flowers. Her brow furrowed. “Who on earth…?”
“Who is it?” she called, hesitating to open the door.
“Flowers for you…,” the stranger replied.
Hazel cracked the door open just enough to inspect him with suspicion.
“Flowers?” she echoed, baffled. “For me?”
“Yes, for you,” the man smiled. “You’re Imogen, right?”
“No, I’m Hazel,” she said, feeling the faintest pang of disappointment.
“Hold on—” he flushed, fumbling for his phone. “Sorry, must’ve got the wrong flat…”
“No harm done,” Hazel sighed, forcing a polite smile.
She retreated to her room, but moments later, another knock startled her. Hazel checked the peephole again—and froze, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Today was Hazel’s twenty-fifth birthday, and for the first time, she was spending it alone. No joy stirred in her heart. She had no desire to see friends, to leave the house, to pretend everything was fine.
Her girlfriends had begged her to celebrate at a café, but she’d refused.
“You can’t shut yourself away on your birthday!” her best friend, Charlotte, had insisted. “Twenty-five is nothing! You’ll meet the right one yet. And that Oliver isn’t worth your tears. Get dressed—we’ll pick you up!”
“No, Lottie. Not tonight,” Hazel had replied firmly.
“But it’s your birthday! You have to celebrate!”
“I don’t want to. I’m sorry.”
Charlotte had sighed. “Suit yourself. But if you change your mind, call me.”
“I won’t.”
Hazel was still reeling from her breakup with Oliver, her ex-fiancé. They’d dated nearly a year, and he’d even proposed. Back then, she’d been over the moon, picturing the wedding, their life together, children. But those dreams had shattered.
She’d soon learned Oliver had been leading a double life. Besides her, there was another woman—Sophie. With Hazel, he’d planned a future. With Sophie, it had been “just for fun.” Everything unraveled when Sophie announced her pregnancy. Her father—Oliver’s boss and a powerful man—gave him an ultimatum: marry her or lose his job.
When the truth came out, Hazel had been stunned. And when Oliver suggested she become his mistress after marrying Sophie, she’d nearly lost the power of speech.
“You’re seriously asking me to be your side piece?” she’d cried, feeling her world collapse.
“What’s the problem?” Oliver had shrugged. “We’re good together. You love me, I—”
“What kind of love is this?” she’d shouted. “You lied to me! You were seeing someone else! Is that how you treat someone you love?”
“Sophie threw herself at me,” he’d defended. “She’s pretty—I’m only human! But she’s boring. With you, it’s different.”
“Shut up!” Hazel had cut him off. “Get out. I never want to see you again.”
It had felt like her life was unraveling. How could she ever trust a man again? Oliver had sworn his love, showered her with grand gestures, called her his dream woman. All lies.
Unbidden, Hazel recalled her mother, abandoned by her father when she was just three. Later, in primary school, her mum had tried to move on—only for her new beau to run off with her best friend. From then on, her mother, Margaret, had given up on men entirely.
“I hope you meet someone worthy, love,” she’d often sighed, worried for Hazel.
Margaret had been overjoyed when Hazel announced her engagement. She lived in the countryside where Hazel had grown up. After uni, Hazel had moved to the city, found work, rented a flat—and dreamed of a family. Now, after Oliver’s betrayal, she doubted it would ever happen.
Her twenty-fifth birthday brought no cheer. She’d imagined spending it with the man she loved—instead, she was alone, heartbroken. Hazel made herself a cup of cocoa and wrapped herself in the knitted throw her mother had made. Margaret was an artisan, her handiwork admired by all. Hazel knitted too, but she’d never match her mum’s skill.
Before she could take a sip, the knock came.
“Odd,” she murmured. “Who now? Please don’t be Lottie and Emily—I said I wasn’t going out.”
Hazel was reserved, preferring solitude when melancholy took hold. She checked the peephole. The same young man stood there, flowers in hand.
“Flowers?” she repeated when he offered them. “For me?”
“Yes, for you,” he nodded. “You are Imogen?”
“No, Hazel,” she said, a flicker of irritation surfacing.
“Wait—” he flustered, checking a slip of paper. “This is your flat?”
“Yes, but I’m not Imogen.”
“One sec,” he said, handing her the bouquet. “Hold these, please?”
He dialed someone, presumably confirming the address. “Which flat? Got it.” He turned back. “Sorry, my mistake. Flat 25, not 5. Awkward.”
“Don’t worry,” Hazel smiled. “Good thing you asked. I’d have taken flowers meant for someone else. It’s my birthday today—this would’ve been quite the surprise.”
“Your birthday?!” he exclaimed. “Happy birthday! Expecting guests? I’m intruding—”
“No guests. Not celebrating,” she said quietly. “But the bouquet’s lovely. Imogen will adore it. Goodbye.”
“Right. Sorry again,” he mumbled.
Back inside, Hazel returned to her cocoa, now cold. No microwave—she’d have to make another.
“I wonder if Imogen in 25 is celebrating too,” she mused, watching the steam curl. “Or if her sweetheart just adores her. That bloke was cute… So flustered when he got it wrong. What was his name?”
Her thoughts spiraled as she sipped. Maybe she should’ve said yes to the café. Why mope at home? Lottie was right—Oliver wasn’t worth it. Life went on.
She grabbed her phone and dialed.
“Yes! Best decision ever!” Charlotte cheered. “Get ready—I’ll call Emily, we’ll grab a cab and paint the town! No more moping.”
Hazel did her makeup, slipped into the new dress she’d bought with Oliver, imagining his compliments. Now it felt like a relic—but enough living in the past.
As she checked the mirror, another knock.
“Wrong flat again,” she muttered and opened the door without looking.
Her breath caught. The same man stood there. Another lavish bouquet in hand.
“Mixed up the flats again?” she asked.
“No,” he grinned. “This time, I’m exactly where I should be. These are for you, Hazel. Happy birthday.”
“You didn’t have to—” she stammered.
“Hazel,” he said softly, “you seemed so sad earlier. I wanted to cheer you up—ask you out. But now you’re… stunning. Guess my invite’s redundant. You’re off somewhere?”
“What’s your name?” she blurted.
“Ethan.”
“Ethan, I’m meeting my girls for a birthday meal,” she smiled, surprising herself. “Join us?”
“Absolutely,” he said, unable to look away.
That evening was magical—the best birthday she’d ever had. It brought her the man who’d become her destiny.
Later, she learned Ethan was an interior designer, delivering flowers as a favor for a mate who owned a florist.
“I love handing out bouquets,” he admitted. “Women’s smiles make it worth it.”
“Often get the wrong address?” Hazel teased.
“Only once,” he said. “But that wasn’t a mistake. That was fate leading me to you.”
“And me to you,” she added. “If I hadn’t stayed in, you’d have missed me. Terrifying to think we might never have met.”
“Oh, we’d have met,” Ethan assured her. “Fate doesn’t miss. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Hazel smiled.
Ten years on, they’re still together, raising two wonderful boys. They still call their meeting life’s greatest gift.
Happiness knocks when least expected. But it always arrives—if you let it in.
