Another Chance at Happiness
Amelia awoke with a peculiar feeling in her chest. Today was her eighteenth birthday, and something inside her hummed with anticipation. She longed for a delicate ring—a slender band with a tiny diamond, the kind that sparkled in the light.
“Happy birthday, darling!” Her parents stepped into her room, her mother cradling a small velvet box, her father beaming with pride.
Amelia leapt up, snatched the box, and gasped as she slipped the ring onto her finger.
“It’s perfect… Thank you! But it must have cost a fortune—”
“You’re our only girl, love,” her father chuckled. “Nothing’s too good for your special day.”
“And that’s not all,” her mother winked. “Your father and I thought—since we’re on holiday and you’ve finished school—we’d whisk you away to the seaside. The bags are already packed!”
Amelia’s heart swelled. The seaside! Sunshine, sand, the envy of her friends—especially Olivia, who never missed a chance to brag about her trips.
The rain had let up by the time they set off. The motorway buzzed with traffic. Amelia stared out the window, daydreaming of returning bronzed and carefree…
Then—darkness.
She woke in a sterile hospital room. Pain flared with every breath, every twitch of her limbs. A nurse adjusted her pillows with gentle hands.
“Easy, sweetheart. Don’t move just yet. I’ll fetch the doctor.”
Amelia twisted weakly—then froze. Dread clawed at her throat.
“Where’s Mum? Dad?! I need to see them!”
An older doctor perched on the edge of her bed, glasses perched on his nose. His voice was steady. Firm.
“Amelia… There was an accident. Your car collided with a lorry. Your parents… they didn’t make it. You’re the only one who survived.”
The world shattered. Not pain—emptiness. She refused to believe it. Her father was careful. He *never* took risks…
But the doctor’s words were true.
Days bled into weeks. Amelia drifted between IV drips and fitful sleep, calling for her parents in her dreams. One evening, the doctor sat beside her, voice low.
“Amelia… We’ve performed two major surgeries. We saved your life. But… you’ll never be able to have children. I’m so sorry.”
A second blow. Deeper than the first.
Once discharged, she had nowhere to go. Her only family was an ailing grandmother in the countryside. Her only friend—Olivia—visited out of pity, dragging along a boy named James, who took Amelia for walks in the park before vanishing without a word.
Then Olivia arrived one day with Ethan.
He noticed Amelia at once—her quiet grief, her solemn eyes. When he learned of her loss, something in him stirred. He wanted to be her anchor.
Soon, he came alone. They strolled through city gardens. Amelia laughed—truly laughed—for the first time in months. Guilt gnawed at her. She had to speak to Olivia.
“Liv… I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. About Ethan.”
Olivia smirked coldly. “What, you’ll dump him if I say I’m bothered?”
Amelia faltered. “No, I just—I don’t want to lose you.”
Olivia nodded, but her eyes glittered with spite.
“That wreck… And Ethan actually *likes* her. Should’ve never introduced them.”
Ethan ignored Amelia’s scars. He saw only her. Brought her flowers. Whispered words of love.
Amelia blossomed under his care—but fear lingered. One day, she confessed to Olivia:
“The doctor said I can’t have children. How do I tell him? He’ll leave me…”
“Tell him,” Olivia urged, feigning concern. “He deserves to know.”
Instead, Olivia raced to Ethan. Twisted the truth.
“Amelia’s barren. Not sure if she’ll tell you herself… but you should know what you’re getting into.”
Ethan studied her. Then, quietly: “Thanks. That’s all I need.”
He left.
Amelia paced her flat, steeling herself when he arrived.
“There’s something I have to say—”
He pulled her into his arms. “Don’t. I already know. And I love you. Nothing changes.”
She didn’t ask how he knew. It didn’t matter. He was there.
Their wedding was small. Joyful. Then, one evening, he murmured:
“Let’s adopt. Give a child a home.”
Amelia wept. It was her salvation.
Little Charlotte became their world. Spoiled rotten. The best clothes, the sweetest treats. When school started, Ethan grew uneasy.
“Can’t you see? She’s not studying. Playing you like a fiddle.”
“All girls her age wear makeup,” Amelia waved him off. “Stop nitpicking.”
Charlotte lied. Hid her phone. Pretended to revise. Ethan seethed.
“She’s deceiving you. Open your eyes!”
“I trust my daughter!”
Charlotte watched. Then, one evening, whispered:
“Mum… Dad hit me. Three times.”
When Ethan came home, Amelia barred the door.
“Get out. I won’t let you raise a hand to my child.”
“Amelia, what the—? I’d *never*—She’s lying!”
“I believe my daughter.”
He packed his bags. Left.
Charlotte smirked in her room. Victory.
Years passed. Amelia grew weary of the deceit, the demands. Money vanished. Charlotte wanted more. Amelia dreamed of Ethan—his laugh, his warmth.
“Forgive me…” she whispered at night. “Forgive me for not listening.”
She ached to knock on his door. To smell coffee. To see if he’d give her—one last chance.
Perhaps fate would be kind. After all, she’d been given a second chance before… and lost it.
