The music stopped, the hall fell silent. Eleanor could hear only her own breath. Suddenly, a lone clap broke the quiet, and within seconds, a roar of applause overwhelmed her. The audience rose to their feet, many with tears in their eyes.
Eleanor locked eyes with Anthony. He leaned down and kissed her. The salty taste of her tears lingered on his lips. The applause began to fade as the crowd filed out. Anthony pushed her wheelchair toward the exit.
“Tired?”
“No. I’m happy! Thank you!” She laughed through her tears.
***
Eleanor was making dinner, glancing at the clock. Daniel would be home soon. She put the kettle on the stove, quickly chopping vegetables for the salad. Another look at the clock. *He’s late. Should I call? No. He’ll just say I’m imagining things again, that I’m paranoid. I want to believe him. But I can’t. Not anymore.* Her fingers itched to grab the phone. *Is it happening again?*
Her grip on the knife tightened until her knuckles turned white. Then she let go, and the blade clattered onto the table. The clock’s hands crawled forward, testing her patience. Finally, she caved and dialled her husband’s number. *Come on, pick up. Just say you’re on your way.* But the ringing only mocked her, pulsing in her eardrums.
She tossed the phone aside. It skidded across the table and teetered at the edge. *Calm down. Don’t lose it. He’ll be home soon.*
Daniel stumbled in past midnight. Exhausted from crying, Eleanor had fallen asleep, but the scrape of his key in the lock jolted her awake. A sliver of light crept under the bedroom door. She threw it open. Daniel, pulling off his shoes, flinched—but recovered fast.
“Scared me. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I wanted to look you in the eye. You promised you’d stop seeing her.”
“Not this again. Just lads watching the match, having a pint—”
“I can’t do this anymore. I *can’t*,” Eleanor cut him off, voice breaking. “I can’t sit here waiting, listening for footsteps. I’m done.” She clutched her stomach like it hurt and turned away, shoulders hunched as if the weight was crushing her.
She curled up on the bed, sobbing.
“Ellie, I’m sick of your jealousy too. Get off my back, yeah? Just lads, like I said—” Daniel hovered but made no move to comfort her.
“You couldn’t call? Battery dead again? Pathetic.” She sat up, glaring. “You don’t even smell like beer.”
She stormed past him to the hallway. Realising what she was after, Daniel lunged—but Eleanor yanked his phone from his coat pocket. The screen lit up.
*”Hun, did you make it home? Has the wife started her interrogation yet, or is it a morning drama?”* She read the sickly-sweet message aloud. “Which ‘lad’ calls you ‘hun’?”
Daniel tried snatching it back, but Eleanor let him have it. Shoving past him, she grabbed her coat.
“Tell *her* you’re free. I’m going to Mum’s. Be gone by morning.”
“Stop, Ellie—Fine, yeah, I wasn’t with the lads—”
Her face twisted in disgust. “What else do you want?” she whispered, doubling over again. “I won’t stay another second.”
She snatched her bag and slammed the door. Daniel didn’t stop her. Outside, she called a cab, then dialled her mum.
“Fighting again? I told you not to trust him. Should’ve left the first time.”
“Mum, not now.” Eleanor hung up.
But she never made it to her mum’s. The cab sped through the empty streets when a drunk driver in an SUV swerved from a side road. The impact struck her side.
Daniel visited the hospital daily after she was moved from ICU. Guilt gnawed at him—if he hadn’t stayed late with *her*, maybe the fight wouldn’t have happened, maybe Eleanor wouldn’t have taken that cab…
The doctors said they’d done their best, that she’d walk again in a few months. But six months passed, then a year. Hope vanished. She’d spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.
Daniel stayed—at first. Eleanor’s mother helped with the housework. But how long could a young man care for a disabled wife? Some men wouldn’t leave. He wanted to believe he was one. Yet, used to comfort, with a mistress waiting—healthy, unburdened—the weight grew too much. How long could guilt keep him? Watching his wife’s eyes shift from despair to hatred? He left.
Dark days followed. Eleanor thought of ending it—pills or the balcony. But the door was narrow. Could she even drag herself over the railing? Pills were better. But her mum never left her alone, hiding the medicine.
One day, they walked in the park. Mum pushed the wheelchair. The council had installed ramps in their building. On uneven pavement, a wheel caught in a pothole. A sharp jolt freed it, but the chair tilted dangerously—until a man steadied it.
“Thank God you were here.” Mum clutched her chest.
“Let me help. Where to?” He took the handles, steering expertly.
“You’re good at this,” Mum said.
“Got practice. Hospital runs after my injury.”
“Military?”
“Yeah. Served overseas. Discharged after. They told Mum I was KIA—some mix-up. She died of shock. Wife remarried. Once, I climbed to the roof—”
Mum gasped.
“—But chickened out. Got a flat from the council now.”
Eleanor listened. Her life was better than his—he’d lost everything.
“And Eleanor? Cab hit by a drunk driver,” Mum said.
Anthony—that was his name—helped them home. The ramp to the lift was steep.
“How do you manage?”
“We cope. Neighbours help, though they grumble about the ramp.”
Mum insisted he stay for dinner. He ate hungrily, grateful.
“When do you usually go out? I could help,” he offered.
“Oh, I couldn’t ask—”
“Please. After losing everything, helping… makes me feel alive.”
He visited often, taking Eleanor on outings. Once, she admitted, “I always dreamed of dancing. Kept putting it off. Now it’s just a dream.”
Anthony said nothing. But two weeks later, he took her to a ballroom competition. The staff lifted her onto the stage, and a dancer spun her wheelchair to the music.
The music stopped. The hall held its breath. Then applause erupted, the audience on their feet, many in tears.
We think misfortune happens to others—never us. That there’s always time to fix mistakes, chase dreams. We delay life until it’s too late. Then chance intervenes, changing everything. But sometimes, that same chance brings someone who helps make dreams come true.
