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Everything Happens for the Best Margaret Evans—strong-willed mother of Lucy—moulded her daughter in her own image, and Lucy obeyed her every word. Margaret prided herself on being a successful, formidable woman, and constantly demanded Lucy follow her path without deviation. “Lucy,” Margaret would say sternly, “if you want to achieve what I have, you must go exactly where I lead you—don’t even think about straying. Do you understand?” “Yes, Mum,” Lucy would reply. Lucy loved her mother and always tried her best not to disappoint. Margaret longed for her daughter to become her ‘Miss Perfect’. Yet, the older Lucy grew, the harder that became. Kids will be kids—Lucy made messes, broke things, fell over, but at school she excelled. She knew one C-grade would be a tragedy for her mother. “Lucy, how could you get a ‘C’? What an embarrassment to your father and me—fix it, and quickly!” “Alright, Mum. But it’s just one C, it was an accident…” Lucy would try to protest. “It doesn’t matter, Lucy. You must be better and smarter than anyone.” Lucy would fret, but always made good on her grades, leaving school with top honours—no other way would do. Margaret was proud when Lucy got into university with ease. “Well done, my girl, I’m proud of you,” Margaret finally admitted one day. “But keep going just like this.” Margaret Evans ran a construction business—unusual for a woman, yet her iron will surprised even the toughest male tycoons. She never doubted Lucy would join her after university. Lucy longed to breathe freely, considered studying in another city, but to no avail. “You’ll stay under my supervision,” her mother snapped. “You can study here, at our local university.” Of course, Lucy couldn’t protest. In her third year, she fell properly in love. She’d dated boys before, sneaking about behind her mother’s back, but nothing serious. George, the charming blue-eyed blonde from a parallel class, won her heart. Lucy was a star student even at university, whereas George struggled, especially with coursework. One day he stopped Lucy in the corridor. “Lucy, I’m drowning here. Can you help me with this coursework?” “Of course!” she agreed, thrilled to help. From then on, Lucy did George’s coursework for him, and he paid her with his affection. They went out, watched films, dined in cafés. Margaret grew suspicious. “Lucy, have you fallen for someone?” “How did you know?” Lucy was startled. “It’s written on your forehead… Introduce us. I need to know what ’kind of bird’ he really is.” Lucy brought George home. Her parents were welcoming; even Margaret found little fault. But when he left, Margaret declared, “Lucy, he’s using you and nothing more. He doesn’t sparkle with intellect; there’s nothing to talk about. What on earth do you see in him?” “That’s not true, Mum,” Lucy finally argued. “George is ambitious and interested—he loves history. You just overshadow him with your intellect. Not everyone has to be like you, and he’s still young.” “He’s not your match,” her mother insisted. But Lucy held firm. “No matter what you say about George, Mum, I will love and see him anyway.” Margaret looked sharply at Lucy, waving her off. “You’ll see, Lucy, he’s just a nobody.” Lucy persisted, and, after university, married George, convinced her mother had got him wrong. Life proved that ordinary C-students can get ahead faster than straight-A students. That’s how it happened for George: after graduating, he landed a prestigious job, while Lucy worked under her mother’s wing. George had his own flat—his parents gave it to him before uni—so after the wedding, Lucy was glad to finally be free from her mother’s intrusion. But her mother got her a job in her company anyway. One evening, George came home. “Lucy, I’ve just been made department head, on probation. I’ll work hard to prove myself.” Which he quickly did. George didn’t like Lucy working for her mum. “You’ll never achieve anything if you stay under her thumb,” he told her. “Are you really going to let her control you for life? She’s a tyrant, and you’re too submissive.” Lucy hated hearing this, but knew it was true. Eventually, George stopped criticising her, but grew more distant—a relief, she thought. At least he didn’t nag anymore. The main thing was, they were still together. A year passed, then one day George returned quietly from work and said, “I’ve met someone else and I love her. I’m leaving. She’s real, not like you…” For the first time in her life, Lucy lost it. She shouted, argued, smashed a plate and threw George’s phone against the wall, tore up a shirt or two, then calmed down. Watching, George finally said, “So there’s some fire in you after all. Shame it’s too late,” and left for his new love. “I hate you,” Lucy muttered, packed her bags, found a flat, and left. She said nothing to Margaret; she knew exactly what the response would be. For more than a month Lucy managed to hide her new situation, but her mother sensed something was wrong. “Lucy, what’s going on? You look empty. Is something wrong with you and your husband?” “Why do you think that? I don’t have a problem with my husband—because I don’t have a husband anymore.” “My God, I knew it! He left you, didn’t he? When?” “In April.” “And you said nothing all this time?” Lucy sighed and endured her mother’s tirade. “I warned you, at least you’re not his servant anymore. Thank heavens you don’t have a child together. Now, promise you’ll listen to my advice from now on. Understood?” “Mum, everything happens for the best,” Lucy replied, then added, “And I quit working with you. I’m done,” and left Margaret baffled in her office. Lucy resolved to get far away from her mother, knowing she’d never get a break from the lectures or the control. She wandered, unsure where to go, caught a tram, got off at her stop, and promptly twisted her ankle in a pothole. Groaning from the pain, she sat on the curb. “Just what I needed,” she thought. “Are you alright?” a young man hurried over, having missed the tram. He helped her up—her ankle throbbed. “Does it hurt much?” “Terribly,” she winced. “Here, lean on me—” Before she could argue, he swept her up and carried her to his car. “I’m James,” he introduced himself, “and you?” “Lucy,” she replied. At the hospital they found her ankle was only sprained. After a firm bandage and some instructions, James drove her home. “Give me your number, just in case you need anything,” he offered. Lucy agreed. Next day, James called. “Anything you need from the shop? I suspect your ankle’s still bad.” “Some juice, fruit, maybe bread,” she confessed. Soon after, he appeared with not one but two bulging bags. “Good grief, what’s all this?” “We’re celebrating our meeting, if you don’t mind—and don’t worry, I’ll do all the work. By the way, can we drop the formalities?” Lucy laughed—it was easy and comfortable with James. James did the cooking, reheated a kebab in the microwave, poured juice—no wine, he warned, since he didn’t drink. The evening was a delight. Four months later, Lucy and James wed. A year after that, their daughter Sophie was born. When asked where she found such a wonderful husband, Lucy would laugh, “He found me at the roadside… Don’t believe it? Ask him yourself!” Thank you for reading, subscribing, and all your support. Wishing you happiness in life.

Everything Happens for the Best Sarah Williamsmother of Gracewas fiercely committed to moulding her daughter

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