**A Twist of Fate**
It’s strange how life unfolds. Edward, a man no longer young, buried his wife five years ago after a long and painful illness. They fought side by side, but in the end, she slipped away, leaving him alone in this world.
At forty-eight, Edward became a widower. The loneliness weighed on him, and though relatives and friends urged him to remarry—”You’re still young, find a woman and be happy again”—he couldn’t imagine it. “There’ll never be another like her,” he’d say. “Better or worse, it doesn’t matter. She was one of a kind.”
His younger brother, Thomas, lived across town. There was a fifteen-year gap between them—his mother had struggled to conceive again before Thomas finally arrived. Edward had helped raise him, and the boy had idolised his older brother. When their parents passed, Edward supported Thomas through university and beyond. Then, as fate would have it, Edward lost his wife, and Thomas’s marriage crumbled around the same time.
Every evening, Edward took a stroll through the park near his house—a habit he and his wife had shared. One night, returning from the duck pond where geese from the nearby estate often swam, he spotted a girl on a bench, wiping away tears. He couldn’t walk past.
“Good evening, miss. Are you all right? Has something happened?”
She looked up with sad eyes. “No one can help me. I just… don’t know where to go.”
Edward sat beside her. “What do you mean? You must have come from somewhere. What’s your name?”
“My mother threw me out. Her flat’s full of strangers now, and I’m afraid of them. It’s… Emily.”
“Right, Emily. Start from the beginning. It’ll be dark soon—you can’t stay here.”
Emily had lived with her parents in a cramped flat left by her grandfather. They’d moved from a crumbling village where work had dried up. Her father died when she was fifteen, and at first, she and her mother managed. But soon, her mother started coming home with the smell of drink on her breath, uncorking bottles at dinner without shame.
“Mum, why do you do this? It won’t end well,” Emily pleaded.
“What do you know?” her mother would slur. “Your father left me with nothing. Have a drink—you’ll see how it helps. You don’t understand.” Then she’d collapse onto the sofa, asleep.
Emily studied nursing, desperate to stand on her own feet. Her mother, fired from job after job, only sank deeper. “Mum, you’ve hit rock bottom. How will we live?”
“You’ll work soon enough,” was the muttered reply.
Then came the strangers—drinking all night, passed out on the floor while Emily huddled behind a wardrobe, too afraid to sleep.
After qualifying, she took night shifts at the hospital, dreading what she’d find at home. That evening, exhausted from a gruelling shift, she returned to an empty flat. The furniture—even the curtains—were gone. Her mother lay drunk on the bare floor. Only Emily’s old winter coat remained. She fled, tears blinding her, and wound up on that park bench.
Edward listened, heart heavy. “Life takes cruel turns,” he said gently. “But there’s always hope. When I lost my wife, I thought my world had ended. Then I realised—if this is fate’s design, we must carry on. You will too.”
“How?” Emily whispered. “I’ll never afford a place of my own. Where do I go?”
Edward hesitated. “I live alone. The house is too big for me now. If you’d like… you could stay. I swear, you’d be safe. My wife and I never had children. You’d be like a daughter to me.”
Edward was a good man. Emily thanked fate for leading her to him that night. She became his family, his second chance. She kept the house spotless, cooked hearty meals, and in the evenings, they talked for hours. His kindness thawed her heart.
But fate had other plans. Slowly, Edward found himself watching her not as a father would. The embers of love, long cold, flickered to life again. One evening, over supper, he confessed.
“Emily, I don’t know what you’ll think… but I’ve fallen in love with you. You’ve brought me back to life. Will you marry me?”
Emily, mistaking gratitude for love, agreed. A year later, their son Daniel was born. Edward glowed with pride. “Now I’m truly happy,” Emily thought. “Edward and Danny—this is my fate.”
Then one day, Edward said, “My brother Thomas is visiting tomorrow. He’s eager to meet you and his nephew.”
Edward was right. The moment Thomas walked in, Emily’s breath caught. Her heart raced as if pierced by a thousand needles. She couldn’t look away.
Thomas, too, was struck. “God, she’s beautiful,” he thought.
Over the days, they stole glances, tormented by guilt. “This can’t happen,” Emily finally said. “I won’t betray Edward.”
“I know,” Thomas admitted. “But there’s no one else for me. Still, I could never hurt him.” He left abruptly, leaving Edward puzzled.
Months later, Edward collapsed at work. By the time Emily reached the hospital, he was gone. Thomas returned, organising the funeral, offering to stay. But Emily sent him away.
Then she dreamed of Edward, slipping off his wedding ring and handing it to Thomas—a silent blessing.
She called Thomas. At the graveside, sunlight bathed Edward’s photo, his smile peaceful.
“Look,” Thomas murmured. “He doesn’t mind.”
A year later, their daughter Alice was born. Danny adored his little sister, piling toys beside her and asking, “When will she play with me?”
