From the wisdom of her years, Emily had come to believe that nothing in life happens by chance. Every meeting, every encounter, was written in the stars long before it came to pass.
“People might call it coincidence or luck, but they’re wrong,” she’d say firmly. “Some think you can cheat fate or bend it to your will, but no one ever truly does. Everyone has their secrets—buried deep, best left unknown. I’ve got mine, of course, but I’d rather they stayed hidden.”
Gazing out the window at the wild apple tree in full bloom, she was reminded of another spring long ago. The air had been thick with the scent of lilacs as she and Grace walked home from school, both in their final year. They’d been inseparable since childhood, living just doors apart, sharing every secret. Grace had always been the quieter one—her cheeks flushed like roses, timid to a fault. Emily, bold and quick-witted, had often stood up for her.
“Grace, for heaven’s sake, just give that Tom a shove back! A textbook to the head would do it—then he’d stop tying your plait to the chair,” Emily would scold.
Tom, the boy who sat behind Grace, had a habit of looping her long braid around the backrest when she wasn’t looking. When she stood, she’d tumble back down to the laughter of the class. No one guessed it was his clumsy way of showing he fancied her. Grace, however, found him too rough around the edges.
“I can’t, Emily. I’d feel awful, even if he deserves it,” Grace would murmur.
“Suit yourself. I’ll deal with him next time,” Emily huffed.
Grace would only shake her head. “Leave it be.”
After school, the two enrolled in college together, studying business. Grace grew bolder with time, though she still preferred quiet evenings at home while Emily dashed off on dates with Jack from another class.
“Come on, Grace, let me set you up with Jack’s mate, Simon. He’s a right laugh—always telling jokes,” Emily insisted one evening.
Grace only smiled. “No, thanks. I’d rather wait for the real thing.”
“Suit yourself. You’ll be waiting forever.”
Then one day, Emily arrived home in a stormy mood.
“What’s wrong?” Grace asked.
“Jack and I are done. We went to the pictures, and he spent the whole time chatting up some other girls. I gave him a piece of my mind after, and he told me to sod off. Well, I told him where to go too!”
Grace winced. “What did he say?”
“Nothing worth repeating. Good riddance.”
Jack never came back, and Emily moved on. Weeks later, as graduation neared, the two strolled through the park. Spring was in full swing, and Grace carried a book under her arm. A tall young man bumped into her, sending it tumbling.
“Sorry! That was clumsy of me,” he said, bending to pick it up. His eyes—bright blue beneath a tousled fringe—met Grace’s, and something passed between them.
“No harm done,” Emily cut in while Grace stayed silent, her cheeks pink.
The stranger smiled. “I’m George. But my friends call me Georgie.”
“Emily,” she said, thrusting out a hand. “This is Grace.”
Georgie’s gaze lingered on Grace. “Lovely to meet you. Are you in a hurry?”
“Just walking,” Emily answered.
Georgie asked to join them, and though Emily did most of the talking, it was Grace he kept glancing at.
“Why so quiet?” he teased her.
“Just listening,” Grace replied, her blush deepening.
Emily noticed. *He fancies her. Well, I’ll have to fix that.*
Georgie walked them home. “Till tomorrow, then? The cinema, as agreed?” He winked at Grace and was gone.
Emily tossed in bed that night. *He’s not like Jack—he’s got something about him.* Grace, too, lay awake, heart racing. *Could this be it?*
The next evening, Georgie sat between them in the cinema. Midway through, his fingers brushed Grace’s hand—and held it. She didn’t pull away.
Afterwards, as Emily chattered, Georgie asked Grace, “Can we talk?”
Emily stiffened. “Should I leave?”
“Sorry, Em. Just Grace.”
Emily stormed off, furious. *That sly little mouse!*
Georgie and Grace talked for hours, smitten. Emily seethed, interrogating Grace later. “What did he say?” Grace, guileless, told her everything.
Days later, Emily cornered Georgie. “You’re making a mistake. Grace isn’t who you think. She’s had dozens of lads before you—tosses them aside like old socks.”
Georgie frowned. “Why tell me this? She’s your friend.”
“Because I care about you. And… I love you.”
He stared, then turned on his heel and left.
Two days later, Grace burst in, radiant. “We’re engaged!”
Emily forced a smile. At the wedding, she feigned illness. Three days later, a letter arrived from Georgie:
*”Don’t test fate. You’ll only hurt yourself.”*
Now, years later, Emily often thinks of those words. Perhaps it was destiny—or karma, returning the spite she’d meant for Grace. Twice married, twice divorced, she lives alone. No husband, no children.
Some things, she’s learned, can’t be undone. Fate always has the last word.
