**Fate Doesn’t Give Us Extras**
Returning from a work trip in the countryside, Nigel drove at a steady pace, lost in thoughts about his life. The weather was gloomy, and a light drizzle had begun, speckling the windscreen with raindrops. Cars sped past in the opposite lane, disappearing into the mist.
He’d been away for a day—originally meant to be three, but luckily, the job wrapped up early. No point staying at the inn, not when his wife Emily’s birthday was today. He’d bought her some new clothes and a bit of makeup—nothing fancy, just what the shop assistant suggested. What did he know about that sort of thing, anyway?
The overnight drive had left him tired, and the rain didn’t help.
*Might as well take the shortcut through the next village,* he thought. *Saves time, even if the road’s a bit rough.* It was nearly morning, after all.
He and Emily had been married ten years, their son Oliver was ten too—born a bit early, but no harm done. The lad was sharp as a tack.
Nigel yawned. Fifteen miles to go. The rain thickened just as dawn broke. Then—*thud*. Something hit the bonnet. He slammed the brakes, heart racing.
*Thank God I wasn’t speeding. Hit an animal?* He jumped out.
A woman lay in the road, her umbrella tossed aside. Panic seized him. He’d hit a person. Still breathing? He scooped her up and bundled her into the back seat.
“Alive, thank heavens,” he muttered, then to her: “How d’you feel? Let’s get you to the hospital—village’s just there.”
She clutched her leg. “No need, really. Just a bruise, I think.” Then, peering at him: “Who are you?”
Their eyes met. Both froze.
“Lucy?” he gasped.
“Nigel?” she stammered.
“Well, this is a turn-up,” he laughed nervously. “Fifteen miles apart all this time.”
“Can’t believe it’s you,” she said, the pain forgotten momentarily.
“Believe it. Let’s get that leg checked.”
The village clinic was close. The nurse prodded her shin. “Just a sprain, Lucy. Take it easy a few days.”
“No, I’ve lessons to teach!” Lucy insisted. “Nigel can drop me at school, right?” He nodded.
She taught English at the local primary. Had left early to prep for exams when the accident happened.
“Come back if it worsens,” the nurse said.
“Will do,” Lucy smiled.
She limped slightly to the car. Nigel followed, relieved it wasn’t worse.
“Need to change before class,” she said. “Still got time.”
“Lead the way.”
Her cottage wasn’t far. She ducked inside, emerged minutes later in a fresh raincoat. The drizzle persisted.
“Meet tonight?” Nigel asked. “Got ten years to catch up on.”
“Your wife—”
“Come on, Lucy. Ten years. Unless your husband…?” He noticed her bare ring finger.
“Flirting, Nigel? Shame on you,” she teased.
“That’s just honesty. Same old Lucy.”
“Fine. The old bus shelter by the crossroads. Seven o’clock.”
They laughed, the old grudge between them melting like sugar in tea.
**Ten Years Earlier**
Fresh out of uni, Nigel (law) and Lucy (teaching) had been dating two years. Plans were made—until location became the snag.
“I’m taking that magistrate job back home,” Nigel declared. “You’re coming with me.”
“Not a chance,” Lucy retorted. “I’m staying in Manchester.”
Pride kept them apart. A stupid, stubborn silence. By the time pride faded, it was too late.
**Back to the Present**
Nigel reached home at dawn. The house smelled of bacon but was untidy. He tiptoed to the bedroom—and froze.
Emily was in bed with *Jake from the pub*. Both bolted upright.
“Nigel! I can explain—” Emily stammered.
Jake, ever cocky, smirked. “Gonna hit me, bailiff?”
Nigel almost did. Then he walked out. His marriage was over.
At his mum’s, Oliver ran out. “Dad! Fix my bike?”
“Sure, mate.”
His mum knew. The village had known about Emily and Jake for ages.
That evening, Nigel drove to Lucy’s. Waited by the shelter.
“Come to mine,” she said. “More private.”
“No husband?”
“Never married.”
Inside, a boy bounded in. “Hi! I’m Nick. That your car?”
Nigel stared. The lad was *him* at that age.
“Lucy…?”
“Yes. Found out after graduation. Didn’t want to trap you.”
Another shock in a day full of them.
**The Next Day**
Nigel collected his things. Oliver tagged along. In the garden, drunk Jake slurred: “Ollie’s *my* lad, not yours. Me and Em were together before you.”
Emily stayed silent.
Oliver hugged Nigel. “I’m going with you.”
At the divorce hearing, Oliver chose Nigel.
Soon, Nigel was driving to Lucy’s daily. Introduced Oliver to Nick. Brothers.
Fate had fixed its mistake. He and Lucy married. Both happy. The boys too.
No extras. Just what was meant to be.
