**Diary Entry: The End of Autumn**
As autumn drew to a close, Emily finally settled on applying to university, though she’d wavered for ages over what she wanted to be. Then, quite suddenly, she decided on medicine. She’d done well in school and lived with her parents, safe and sheltered. She had everything: loving parents, nice clothes, holidays by the sea, presents whenever she liked.
Her father worked in the city council, held a high-ranking position, and never denied his wife or daughter anything. Emily was dressed like a doll. He was certain of her bright, comfortable future. Her mother didn’t work—she was a homemaker.
But life has a way of twisting on you.
*”Mum, I’m off!”* Emily called between bites of toast, then dashed out the door, sprinting to school. *Why did I stay up till three on my phone?* she scolded herself, but she made it just as the bell rang, breathless.
*”Who was chasing you?”* her friend Lucy asked as Emily flopped into her seat.
*”No one—slept in again.”*
After third period, her form teacher approached, avoiding her eyes. *”You need to go home. It’s about your dad.”*
*”What? What’s happened?”* Heart pounding, she grabbed her things and ran.
Outside the flat, neighbours clustered, an ambulance idled, and police had just arrived. Inside, her mother sat swaying, hollow-eyed, face dark with grief. Her father lay on the sofa, motionless.
*”His heart, love. His heart gave out,”* the neighbour whispered.
The funeral passed in a blur. Neighbours came, offered sympathy. Her mother turned to stone, wouldn’t speak.
*”Mum, please say something,”* Emily begged, but her mother only stared through her, as if at nothing. Then one morning, after Emily had made her own tea and toast, her mother appeared in the kitchen, murmured, *”He’s calling me, love. Your dad’s calling,”* then collapsed.
Neighbour Mrs. Wilkins called an ambulance, held Emily as she sobbed. The paramedics arrived swiftly but shook their heads. *”I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do.”*
Days later, Mrs. Wilkins took charge—Emily had no other family. Teachers and classmates helped where they could. Eventually, Emily pulled herself together, though university was now out of the question. She needed to work.
*”Thank you, Mrs. Wilkins. They’ve taken me on at the shop.”*
*”Good girl. You can study later. Just keep your wits about you.”*
Emily worked hard, even took extra shifts—mopping floors, unloading stock. No one would’ve guessed she’d once lived so differently.
Then one evening, a man and woman stopped her outside. *”Emily? We’d like to talk about your future.”*
Cautious, she refused to let them in. *”We’ll buy your flat—four rooms is too much for one. The bills must be steep.”*
She refused. This was her parents’ home.
They persisted—phone calls, ambushes. Mrs. Wilkins warned her, *”Don’t trust them. Next time, call me.”*
When they cornered her again, Emily stood firm. Mrs. Wilkins stepped in, then rang her son, Robert, a policeman. He took over—turned out they were scammers, pressuring vulnerable owners.
After that, life settled. Autumn leaves fell; winter loomed.
One day, elderly Mr. Thompson—a regular—looked unwell. *”Not feeling right, love. Dizzy.”* He swayed, then collapsed. Emily grabbed his phone, found *”son, James,”* and called.
James arrived the next day with flowers. *”Thank you. You saved him.”*
While Mr. Thompson recovered, James visited daily. Soon, he confessed, *”I’m fifteen years older, but I’ve fallen for you. Marry me.”*
Emily said yes. James moved in, managed his business remotely. She enrolled in law school—*”useful for the business,”* he said.
A year later, baby Oliver arrived. They live in her parents’ flat. Mrs. Wilkins dotes on the boy, and Emily—once adrift—has found her place.
**Lesson:** Life knocks you down, but it’s the people who lift you up that matter most.
