**Late Autumn**
As school drew to a close, Emily finally decided on university, though she’d wavered over what to do with her life. Suddenly, it became clear—she’d devote herself to medicine. She’d always done well in school and lived with her parents in comfort, wanting for nothing. Loving parents, nice clothes, holidays by the sea, gifts—she had it all.
Her father held a high-ranking position in the city council and denied his wife and daughter nothing. Emily was always dressed like a doll. He was certain of his daughter’s bright future. Her mother stayed at home, tending to the house.
But fate, the cruel trickster, had other plans…
“Mum, I’m off!” Emily called between bites of toast as she dashed out the door, late for school again. *Why did I stay up on my phone till three?* she scolded herself, barely making it to class before the bell.
“Who was chasing you?” her friend Lucy joked when Emily flopped into her seat.
“No one—just overslept again,” she sighed as the bell rang, both girls rolling their eyes.
After third period, their form teacher approached, avoiding eye contact.
“You need to go home. It’s about your dad…”
“What? What happened?” Emily grabbed her things and ran.
Outside their block of flats, neighbours, an ambulance, and police had gathered. Emily entered with two officers—her mother sat motionless, hollow-eyed, grief carved into her face. Her father lay on the sofa.
“It was his heart, love,” a neighbour whispered.
Emily clung to her mother, both weeping. The funeral and wake blurred together in her memory. Neighbours offered support, but her mother withdrew, speaking barely a word.
“Mum, please, say something,” Emily pleaded, but the woman only stared blankly. Then, one morning, as Emily ate toast alone, her mother shuffled in.
“He’s calling me, love… your dad is,” she murmured before collapsing.
Emily shook her, screaming for help. Their neighbour, Mrs. Wilkins, called an ambulance, holding Emily as she sobbed.
The paramedics arrived swiftly. The doctor knelt, then sighed. “I’m sorry. She’s gone.”
The weeks that followed were a numb haze. Mrs. Wilkins took charge—Emily had no other family. Her mother had been orphaned; her father an only child. Teachers and classmates helped. Slowly, Emily regained her footing, with Mrs. Wilkins guiding her—breakfasts, school pick-ups, shared dinners.
Exams passed. Graduation came. University dreams faded. Survival was the priority now. The money her parents left wouldn’t last.
“Mrs. Wilkins, thank you for getting me that job at the shop,” Emily said. “At least I’ll earn something.”
“Good girl. Life’s hard, but you’ll manage. Study can wait—just keep your wits about you.”
Emily worked tirelessly, even mopping floors or unloading stock. No one would guess this slight, pretty girl had once lived so comfortably.
Then one evening, a man and woman stopped her outside the flats.
“Emily?” the woman asked.
“Yes… do I know you?”
“We’d like to discuss your future. Maybe invite us up?”
“I don’t even know you.”
“I’m Anna. This is Paul. Don’t worry—we just need to talk.”
Reluctantly, she let them in.
“We’re offering to buy your flat. Four rooms is too much for one girl. The bills must be steep.”
“They are,” Emily admitted. “But I won’t sell. This is all I have left of them.”
Anna and Paul exchanged glances. “Think it over. We’ll talk again.”
Emily told Mrs. Wilkins.
“Don’t you dare deal with them! Next time they come, fetch me.”
Anna kept calling—how had they gotten her number? Then they ambushed her again.
“I said no,” Emily snapped, spotting Mrs. Wilkins at the window. The older woman marched out.
“Leave her alone!” She dragged Emily inside. “Right, I’m calling my Anthony.”
Her son, a policeman, arrived promptly, taking details. “Call me if they bother you again.”
Three days later, Anna and Paul stormed the shop.
“Don’t make this difficult,” Paul threatened. Emily discreetly dialled Anthony.
When the trio entered, he and two officers arrested them.
Later, Anthony reassured her, “They’re part of a property scam. You’re safe now.”
“Thank you—both of you.”
Autumn deepened, leaves spiralling down. At work, Emily knew her regulars. One, Mr. Harold, an elderly widower, shuffled in, pale and unsteady.
“You don’t look well,” she said gently.
“Feel rotten, love. Dizzy…”
As he paid, he collapsed. Emily grabbed his phone, finding “Son, James” in his contacts.
“Hello?” a man answered.
“It’s Emily—from the shop. Your father’s had a fall. An ambulance is coming.”
Silence, then, “I’m on my way.”
Mr. Harold was taken to St. Mary’s. Later, James arrived—grateful, handsome. The next day, he returned with flowers.
“Thank you for saving him.”
Emily flushed under his gaze.
During Mr. Harold’s hospital stay, James visited daily. On discharge, Emily joined him to collect the old man.
That evening, James confessed, “I’m fifteen years older, but I’ve fallen for you. Marry me.”
She didn’t hesitate. James moved in—his father needed care, and he could manage his business remotely. Emily enrolled in law school at his suggestion (“Every business needs a solicitor”). Soon, their son Oliver was born. They live in her flat still, with Mrs. Wilkins doting on the baby.
Funny how life turns. Loss carved her path, but love paved it anew.
**Lesson learned:** When the ground crumbles beneath you, plant your feet where kindness grows. The rest will follow.
