Two Orphans and One Happy Home—How Fate Set Everything Right
Emily and Beatrice rode the bus toward a sleepy little village. One stop, a short walk—and there it was, the right address. The garden was alive with laughter, tables laid out for what seemed a birthday celebration. The girls paused at the gate, and almost at once, a man stepped out to meet them.
“Lasses, you here for us?” he asked with a warm grin. “Who might you be looking for, my dears?”
“We’re here to see Thomas Whitmore,” Beatrice answered.
“Well, I’m Thomas,” he said, raising his brows in surprise. “From the council, are you? Or…?”
“No,” said Beatrice, glancing at Emily. “This is my friend Emily. Em, show him the photo.”
Emily pulled out a carefully folded picture and handed it over. Thomas studied it for a long moment, then looked back at Emily. His expression shifted right before their eyes.
“That’s your daughter,” Beatrice said quietly.
Thomas went very still.
“Daughter…?”
This story had begun long before this moment. Two utterly different girls, Emily and Beatrice, met in an orphanage. They arrived the same day and were placed side by side. Both orphans—though not by death, but by the choices of the adults around them.
Beatrice had lost her mother—a woman who, though not poor, preferred a life of revelry, wild parties, and fleeting romances. Her father, whom she’d never met, sent money regularly, but no relatives would take her in. After her mother’s passing, all that remained was a run-down flat and a one-way trip to the children’s home.
Emily had lived with her grandmother. Her mother died in childbirth; her father… well, her grandmother knew who he was but never sought him out. He’d started another family, and no one even guessed he had a daughter out there. When her grandmother passed, Emily too ended up in the home.
At the orphanage, the girls were roomed together. They clicked instantly but never quite fit in with the others. Often, they defended each other; just as often, they clashed with the rest. It only made them tighter.
After leaving the home, they rented a flat together and enrolled in college. And that’s when the idea struck—to find their fathers.
Beatrice’s father was easy—his details were on file with social services. Emily’s case was trickier. But with old photos and scribbles on the back, she pieced together a name. Then came the internet, the questions, the addresses… and now, here they were, chasing fate.
Beatrice’s father came first. A big house behind an iron gate. They knocked. The reply was frosty:
“He’s not here. Go away.”
Work was no better. He finally appeared hours later, but the exchange was brief and brutal.
“I don’t want you. I paid. I have a family—you were a mistake. Stay out of my life.”
After that, Beatrice told him exactly where to go, then burst into tears.
“Right. Your turn now,” she said, wiping her face. “Let’s find *your* dad.”
The address wasn’t hard to track. The garden buzzed with anniversary preparations. Thomas Whitmore was in high spirits. But when he saw the photo and heard the words “*This is your daughter*,” his face darkened, then crumpled.
“You… you don’t look much like your mum. But… there’s something. Tommy! Fetch Granny!”
“Who’s this?” A teenager poked his head out.
“Just go, get her!”
Out came an elderly woman, spry and bright-eyed.
“What’s all this, Thomas?”
“Mum—don’t be cross—this is… my daughter. Your granddaughter.”
“Good Lord! Truly? What a blessing! Girls, come in! Why are you standing there? It’s my birthday—70 today!”
Emily and Beatrice were swept inside with open arms. Granny dug out old photos at once, and there was no doubt left—the eyes, the smirk, even the little mole on the wrist—it all matched.
“We should do a test,” Emily murmured.
“If you like, we will. But I *know* you’re ours. And Beatrice too. One granddaughter’s grand—two’s even better! You’re both staying.”
Beatrice wept all over again.
“None of that,” Granny chided. “Today’s a celebration. Thomas lost his wife five years back; I’m the only woman here. Now we’ve got you two. Eat, then tell us everything. You’ll meet Thomas’s brothers—four of them. Youngest is William.”
The party turned magical. Laughter, stories, embraces, memories. Thomas kept muttering,
“How did I not *know*…?”
“Meant to be, that’s all,” Granny said. Then, with a wink: “And look—Nathan can’t take his eyes off Beatrice. Reckon we’ll have another celebration soon.”
And so it was. A year later, Nathan and Beatrice married. Emily stayed close as a sister. Thomas became a true father to both. And Granny? She’d say, “Found two granddaughters in one go. That’s fate!”
Sometimes, fate *does* set things right. Even if it takes a little pain first.
