**A Random Bouquet and a Twist of Fate**
Emily sat alone in her tiny flat in the quaint town of Winchester when the silence was shattered by a knock at the door. Reluctantly, she peeled herself off the sofa and peeked through the peephole. A young man stood there, clutching an enormous bouquet of roses. “Who on earth…?” she wondered, frowning.
“Who is it?” she called, making no move to open the door.
“Flowers for you,” came the muffled reply.
Emily cracked the door open just enough to eye the stranger with suspicion. “Flowers? For *me*?”
“Yes, for you,” he smiled. “You *are* Alice, right?”
“No, I’m Emily,” she said, feeling a prick of disappointment.
“Wait a second,” he muttered, pulling out his phone. “Sorry, think I’ve got the wrong flat…”
“No worries,” Emily sighed, forcing a polite smile.
She retreated to her living room, only for the door to knock again moments later. Peering through the peephole once more, Emily’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Today was her first birthday spent entirely alone. Twenty-five years old, and she’d never felt less like celebrating. She’d brushed off her friends’ pleas to hit a cosy pub, insisting she just wasn’t in the mood.
“You can’t mope around all day!” her best mate Sophie had protested. “It’s your birthday! You’re *twenty-five*! You’ll meet someone brilliant—Mark wasn’t worth the tears. Get dressed, we’ll swing by!”
“Not today, Soph,” Emily had said firmly.
“But it’s your *birthday*! You *have* to celebrate!” Sophie pressed.
“I don’t want to. Really,” Emily had replied flatly.
“Your loss,” Sophie sighed. “But if you change your mind, call me.”
“I won’t.”
The breakup with her fiancé, Mark, had hit her hard. They’d dated for nearly a year before he proposed, and she’d been over the moon—dreaming of their wedding, their future, the family they’d build. But those dreams shattered when she discovered Mark had been living a double life.
Turns out, there was another woman—Sarah. Emily was supposed to be his wife, Sarah was just… *for fun*. Until Sarah announced she was pregnant. Her father, Mark’s boss, issued an ultimatum: marry her, or lose his job.
When the truth came out, Emily was gobsmacked. And when Mark had the nerve to suggest she stay on as his *mistress* after the wedding, she nearly choked on her own fury.
“You’re seriously asking me to be your *side piece*?!” she’d shrieked.
“What’s the big deal?” Mark had shrugged. “We’re good together. You love me, I—”
“*Love*?!” Emily had cut him off. “You lied to me for *months*! That’s not love!”
“Sarah threw herself at me!” he’d whined. “She’s fit—what was I supposed to do, say no? But she’s dull as dishwater. *You’re* the one I actually like talking to.”
“Get out,” Emily had snapped.
In that moment, her whole world crumbled. How could she ever trust a man again? Mark had sworn she was his dream woman, showered her with grand gestures—only for it all to be a lie.
She couldn’t help thinking of her mum, left heartbroken when Emily’s dad walked out when she was three. Years later, her mum tried dating again—only for the bloke to run off with her best friend. After that, Mum swore off men entirely.
“Hope you meet someone decent, love,” she’d often sigh, worrying over Emily.
Mum had been thrilled about the engagement. Living in the countryside village where Emily grew up, she’d knitted endlessly—her work was impeccable. Emily dabbled in it too, though she’d never mastered Mum’s skill.
Now, on her twenty-fifth birthday, Emily just wanted the day to be over. She’d imagined celebrating with Mark—instead, she was curled up in a knitted blanket with a mug of hot chocolate, determined to ignore the world.
Then the door knocked. Again.
“Odd,” she muttered. “Unless Sophie’s ignoring my *very* clear refusal…”
She peeked through the peephole. Same bloke. Same flowers.
“Wrong flat *again*?” she asked dryly as she opened the door.
“Nope,” he grinned. “These are for you, Emily. Happy birthday.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “You really didn’t have to—but thank you. They’re lovely.”
“You seemed so sad earlier,” he said softly. “I wanted to cheer you up. Thought maybe I could take you for a walk. But now you look… stunning. Guessing you’ve got plans?”
“What’s your name?” she blurted.
“James.”
“James, I’m going to a pub with my friends to *finally* celebrate,” she said, surprising herself. “Fancy joining us?”
“Absolutely,” he beamed. “If you’re sure I won’t be intruding?”
“Not at all.”
That evening turned out to be the best birthday of her life—the night she met the man who’d change everything.
Later, she’d learn James was actually an interior designer, just helping out a mate who owned a florist.
“I like seeing people’s faces when they get flowers,” he admitted.
“Ever delivered to the wrong place before?” Emily teased.
“Just once,” he said. “But it wasn’t a mistake. It was fate.”
“And if I’d gone out earlier, you’d have missed me,” she mused.
“We’d have met somehow,” James said firmly. “Fate doesn’t miss.”
Ten years on, they’re still inseparable—raising two adorable boys and still laughing about the day a “wrong address” turned out to be the best thing that ever happened.
Happiness has a funny way of showing up when you least expect it. All you have to do is let it in.
