**When Fate Comes Knocking**
Heading up the marketing department, James—a charming, self-assured bachelor—couldn’t resist the moment the office’s newest hire walked in. The woman was impossible to miss: bold, fiery-haired, and radiating confidence. Her name was Poppy. Within seconds, James had crossed the room, interest barely disguised.
“Morning, colleague,” he said, flashing a grin so warm it could’ve melted butter.
“Morning,” she replied, soft but with a spark, the corners of her lips quirking into a smirk.
“Right then, let’s get you started. Olivia here’ll show you the ropes—she’s the queen of onboarding,” James nodded toward the senior colleague. “Read through the guidelines. Best of luck—here’s hoping we’ll get along.”
The office, mostly women, watched him go with raised eyebrows. The second he was out of earshot, Olivia leaned toward her desk mate, Harriet, whispering, “Since when does our James put on the charm like that for newbies?” They exchanged glances and stifled giggles.
Poppy played it cool at first. New job, unfamiliar faces. She wasn’t the shy type—at twenty-three, she’d already left a trail of dramatic flings in her wake. Back in college, she’d tangled with a professor twice her age. He’d ended things when rumours reached his wife. Poppy? She’d shrugged and moved on, leaving broken hearts like breadcrumbs.
Two weeks later, James suggested drinks after work at a riverside pub.
“Why not? You’re my boss,” she said, all faux innocence, her tone just cheeky enough to feel like a challenge. “Best stay on your good side.”
For a second, he thought she was joking. But then his heart gave a traitorous little leap. At thirty-two, he’d never made it past the halfway mark in relationships—always something missing. With Poppy, though, things escalated fast: dates, passion, love. Before long, the office buzzed with the news—James and Poppy were sending out wedding invites.
**Family on the Brink**
James adored her, indulging every whim. But Poppy had one condition:
“No kids, Jamie. I want to live for me. If I change my mind, I’ll say so. Until then? No nappies, no sleepless nights.”
He waited, certain she’d come around. That she’d realise a family wasn’t complete without children. Months passed. She didn’t budge.
“Jamie, I told you from the start. Don’t push me. I’m not ready.”
Then, one evening, he found her in the bathroom, pale-faced, clutching a pregnancy test in shaking hands.
“Poppy… you’re pregnant?” he breathed, hardly daring to hope.
She nodded, tears welling. Ecstatic, James swept her into his arms—but she burst into sobs.
“I don’t want this! I don’t want to get fat, I don’t want this life! Fix it!”
He held her close, kissing her tear-streaked cheeks. “Don’t cry, love. This is a miracle. I adore you. We’re going to have a baby!”
But Poppy wouldn’t budge. She booked a clinic appointment. James found out, stormed in, and dragged her out mid-argument.
“Poppy, please. Don’t do this. Let our child live. I’ll handle everything—just don’t walk away,” his voice cracked.
Reluctantly, she agreed—on one condition: nappies, night feeds, the lot? His problem. The whole pregnancy, James doted on her. When the time came, he drove her to the hospital. Only when he held their healthy daughter did he finally exhale.
**The Daughter Left Behind**
Exhausted but euphoric, James went home to rest. The next day, at the hospital, a nurse delivered the blow:
“Your wife’s gone. She left the baby.” She handed him a folded note.
“No. That’s impossible!” James refused to believe it. “Check again—maybe she stepped out?”
But Poppy had vanished. No calls, a new number. Six weeks later, she rang:
“Pack my things. My boyfriend, Callum, will collect them. File for divorce yourself—I’m not coming back.”
Not a word about their daughter. The baby meant as little to her as James did. So he became both father and mother to little Holly. His mum, living a few streets over, helped fill the gaps.
**Shadows of the Past**
Anna snatched up her phone at the ringtone—her son Alfie’s teacher, Mrs. Thompson. The boy was in Year Two.
“Anna, come to the school immediately! Your son’s caused quite the scene!” The line went dead.
Heart pounding, Anna rushed from work. What could Alfie—her quiet, well-behaved boy—have possibly done?
Alfie had been a miracle. Her husband, Simon, had confessed before their wedding: he was infertile. Doctors’ notes proved it. This was his third marriage.
“Maybe they got it wrong?” Anna had said. She loved him, had braced for adoption if needed. But fate intervened—she got pregnant. Overjoyed, she waved the scan at him: “Eight weeks, Simon! I told you doctors aren’t always right!”
Instead of joy, he slapped her.
“Whose is it? You’ve been cheating!” he roared, raising his hand again.
That night, he cooled. “Fine. Keep the brat. Even if it’s not mine.”
She stayed silent. Alfie was born—Simon’s double. At first, Simon softened, even played with him. Then the rages returned.
“Slut! Bet you’ve told your lover about his son! Why put my name on the birth certificate? Let him pay child support!”
As Alfie grew, he heard it all. Simon snarled, “Go find your real dad, then!”
Anna got a DNA test. Proof Simon was the father. He scoffed: “Paid off the lab, did you?”
She left, moved in with her mum. Simon tracked them down. She rented a flat across town, filed for divorce. He wouldn’t stop. Desperate, she relocated. Only then did life restart.
At school, Anna found Alfie, a teacher, and a man with a girl—Alfie’s classmate, Holly. Top of the class, teacher’s pet. Alfie had a scratch on his cheek; Holly glowered at him.
“Hello,” Anna managed. Mrs. Thompson swooped in.
“Finally. Alfie pushed Holly. She fell and bruised her knee.”
**Picking Up the Pieces**
“Mum, it wasn’t me!” Alfie blurted. “She started it! She called me names, scratched me—so I…”
“Dad, I didn’t!” Holly muttered, then lurched like she might shove Alfie again.
“Enough, Holly,” the man said sharply.
“Alfie, apologise,” Anna said.
“And you too, Holly,” the man added.
The kids stood, still coiled for battle. Mrs. Thompson sighed. “Perhaps you two can sort this?”
“We’ll sort it,” Anna and the man said together. They glanced at each other—then laughed.
“James. Holly’s dad.”
“Anna. Alfie’s mum.”
“Sorry, Holly,” Alfie muttered, scuffing his shoe.
“You too,” Holly mumbled, nudging his sleeve.
“Brilliant!” the parents chorused, laughing again. The kids cracked smiles.
“This calls for celebration,” James said. “Pizza?”
“Mum, yes!” Alfie cheered.
Holly folded her arms. “We really are sorry. Right, Alfie?”
“We believe you,” Anna said, catching James’s eye. “Clearly just a misunderstanding.”
Over pizza, the kids chattered like old friends. Alfie even vowed, “If anyone bullies you, tell me. I’ll sort ’em.”
The parents exchanged looks, something unspoken passing between them. After that, there were more meet-ups—cinema trips, park walks, cosy nights in. The kids noticed first, grinning more than the adults.
Months later, James and Anna would laugh about that first meeting, thanking fate for a playground squabble. Every cloud, eh? Anna was expecting again. Alfie and Holly had already named their brother—Theo.
**When Fate Comes Knocking**
30 April
15.1K
8 minAs the years passed, James often joked that Holly and Theo were his greatest marketing campaigns—unplanned but wildly successful, just like his love for Anna.
