**Fate That Knocks on the Door**
In a small coastal town where seagulls cried above the waves, Margaret bustled about the kitchen all day. She prepared a fragrant supper—baked fish, potatoes with herbs, and even a Victoria sponge for dessert, her husband’s favorite. Tired but pleased, she tidied the table, laid it with a white cloth, and sat waiting for her husband to return from work. Her heart beat a little faster than usual—today, she had an important conversation ahead. At last, the lock clicked, and on the threshold stood Paul.
“Hello, love!” he said with a smile, shrugging off his coat. “What’s the occasion? Some celebration?” He nodded at the spread of appetizing dishes.
“Darling, we need to have a serious talk,” Margaret said softly but firmly. “It’s about our family.”
Paul stilled, his smile fading slowly as unease flickered in his eyes.
—
“Nadine, how could you do this? He’s your son!” Margaret’s voice trembled with indignation.
“My son, so what?” Nadine dismissed her with a wave, smoothing her hair. “I’m not giving him up for good—just a few months!”
“Nadine, have you lost your mind? He’s your child, your own flesh and blood!” Margaret fought back tears.
“Listen, Margaret, I’ve explained everything! If you’re so softhearted, why don’t *you* take Michael in? Enough—this discussion is over. Nothing will happen to him in a few months, and once I’m settled, I’ll fetch him straight away.” With that, Nadine rose sharply, slammed the door, and stormed out.
Margaret sat alone, stunned. She couldn’t believe her sister was capable of this. Handing off her own son, even temporarily, to a children’s home? It was unthinkable. But taking Michael in herself was impossible.
She and Paul lived with their twin daughters in his mother’s cramped flat. Elizabeth Whitmore had never warmed to her daughter-in-law. She tolerated the girls for Paul’s sake, but Margaret knew—he was the only light in Elizabeth’s eyes. If not for him, she might never have allowed her son to marry, least of all to Margaret.
Once, Margaret overheard Elizabeth complaining to neighbors, “That wife of Paul’s has him bewitched—why else would he dote on her so?” At first, she had been civil, but everything changed when Margaret and Paul announced they were expecting. From then on, Elizabeth grew unbearable. She held her tongue around Paul, but the moment he left for work, her true nature surfaced—sly remarks, sharp jabs, endless criticism. There were days Margaret nearly broke, but for her daughters’ sake, she clenched her teeth and endured.
She never complained to Paul. He adored his mother, believing her kind and caring—how could she tell him his “perfect mother” tormented her? Margaret dreamed of leaving, but where could she go?
She and Nadine had grown up in an orphanage. When they aged out, they were told no housing would be provided—they had a cottage in the countryside, left by their parents. But no one had checked whether it was livable. Arriving in their ancestral village, the sisters found a crumbling ruin with a collapsed roof. It was uninhabitable, and work was scarce. Defeated but hopeful, they returned to the city.
Margaret tried not to dwell on how many hardships they’d endured. But fate had smiled on her—she met Paul. They married, and soon the twins arrived. Nadine had less luck. She lived in a rented room with little Michael, rarely speaking of his father, only once hinting he was married and there was no future with him.
Michael was a year younger than Margaret’s girls, and she adored him. Nadine, too, had seemed to love her son—yet her sudden decision shocked Margaret. She had met her “dream man,” a fellow named Victor. Margaret didn’t know him, but according to Nadine, he was perfect. Margaret thought not. A decent man wouldn’t reject the child of the woman he claimed to love, even if not his own. But Victor insisted Michael go to a home—”just for a while.” Blinded by infatuation, Nadine agreed.
Margaret tried reasoning with her sister, but Nadine dug in her heels. “Victor will adjust, then we’ll fetch Michael.” Margaret knew better. Michael would follow their path, yet Nadine seemed indifferent. But Margaret couldn’t let her nephew end up in an orphanage.
Bringing him to Elizabeth’s was impossible—she barely tolerated Margaret and the twins. Yet staying silent was just as unthinkable. She resolved to speak to Paul. He was her husband, he loved her—surely he would help.
All day, she cooked, baked, set the table—hoping the warm atmosphere would soften the conversation. When Paul returned, she steadied herself and told him everything.
But his reaction shattered her. Instead of support, he erupted, summoning his mother. Elizabeth and Paul took turns berating Margaret. “You should be grateful for the roof over your head,” Elizabeth shrieked, “not dragging some stranger’s child into *my* home!” Paul echoed her, as though Margaret and the girls meant nothing to him.
In the end, they gave her an ultimatum: forget about Michael and live by their rules, or leave. The ground seemed to vanish beneath her feet.
At dawn, she packed the girls’ things and left. She had nowhere to go, but staying was unbearable. Then she remembered a woman at the clinic speaking of a shelter for those in crisis. Margaret went there at once.
The shelter welcomed her warmly. When they heard of Michael’s plight, they allowed her to bring him. A new chapter had begun.
A week later, Paul appeared. He begged her to return, swore he missed her and the girls. Yet in passing, he mentioned neighbors now scorned him and Elizabeth for “turning out a wife with children.” Those words laid everything bare. It wasn’t *her* Paul wanted—it was his reputation intact. She sent him away.
The bitterness lingered. How had he feigned love all those years? She found no answer.
Two weeks later, a shelter worker, Anna Bennett, suggested Margaret move to a nearby village. She had a modest but sound cottage there and promised help finding work. Without hesitation, Margaret agreed. Work didn’t frighten her—she needed a home.
Soon, they settled in the village. The children started nursery, though enrolling Michael required summoning Nadine. She came, signed the papers, but couldn’t resist a jab: “Should’ve left him at the home—none of this would’ve happened.” They argued, and Nadine left. Michael stayed with Margaret.
A year passed. Margaret worked, the children thrived, life steadied. She never regretted her choice. Nadine occasionally sent money for Michael, and Paul paid child support—the courts had ensured that. Some days were hard, but Margaret believed brighter times lay ahead.
And soon, fate proved her right. She met Simon. He loved her and the children from the start, and said so plainly. They married and moved into a spacious cottage. Simon started his own business, and Margaret, expecting twins, left work with his full joy. He was already preparing the nursery.
She no longer spoke to Nadine. She couldn’t forgive her, blaming only their shared past for her sister’s choices. But Margaret was happy. Her children were her strength, and Simon, her true love. She knew now—darkest clouds always give way to light, and her life was proof.
