PROTECTED BY LOVE
The meeting of Emily and Oliver was written in the stars.
Oliver had never seen his father. Raised by his mum and nan, he grew up hearing vague excuses whenever he asked about his dad. “Your father’s a geologist, always off exploring somewhere,” his mum would mutter. But once, in frustration, she snapped, “You never had a dad, Ollie!”
As a child, Oliver accepted this—until he got older and started questioning things. Surely he wasn’t just dropped by the stork! His nan eventually spilled the truth: his mum had gone on a work trip once and came back expecting him. Oliver was relieved—at least he wasn’t found under a cabbage! He vowed to track down his father one day, no matter what. And more than that, he promised himself: *I’ll have a proper family. One wife. Loads of kids.*
Emily, too, grew up without a father’s love. Her parents split before she turned two, and her stepdad stepped in. He wasn’t a bad bloke, but he always compared her to his own kids from his first marriage. It stung. Emily clung to her mum’s love and swore that if she ever married, it would be *once*—for life. If she could find the right bloke.
And then she did.
It was Christmas Eve—cold, dark, and crisp. A bookshop. Emily and Oliver stood in line, both clutching copies of Shakespeare. Their eyes met. Oliver, never one to waste an opportunity, showered her with compliments and polite questions. He *knew*. She was the one.
Emily, usually reserved, felt oddly at ease with this eager stranger—like she’d known him forever. But she was a proper girl, and proper girls didn’t just hand out their numbers to anyone. Still, she took Oliver’s. “I’ll call after the holidays,” she said vaguely.
Oliver wasn’t about to let fate slip away. He discreetly followed her home.
The whole festive season, he floated on air. He’d found his soulmate.
But New Year came and went—no call. Oliver panicked. He slid his newly bought Shakespeare into her letterbox. That evening, his phone rang.
“Oliver! Why didn’t you call? I *waited*!” Emily scolded.
“Love, you never gave me your number! Or don’t you remember?” Oliver grinned.
“But you *found* me!”
*Typical woman’s logic,* he thought. But he was over the moon—she *did* care.
They wasted no time. A quick registry office wedding, then a proper church blessing. They had everything in common: unwavering love, dreams of a big family, and a shared obsession with Shakespeare. What more did they need?
Emily taught literature at university; Oliver was a brilliant software engineer. Soon, little Charlotte arrived. Two years later, baby William. Life was perfect.
But Oliver never forgot about his dad. After some digging online, he found him—a renowned medical professor in London. Their reunion was emotional. “I’m glad you found me, son,” his dad said, hugging him. Oliver proudly introduced his family. “You’re a granddad *twice* over—and counting!”
Oliver returned home elated. His dad was warm, kind. But life got busy, and their meetings dwindled.
Years passed. Charlotte and William grew. Emily, not wanting to lag behind her mum and nan (both PhDs), decided to earn her doctorate. Her topic? Shakespeare, naturally.
Oliver supported her every step. Three years of late-night research later—just as Emily neared her defence—little Grace was born. Plans stalled.
Once Grace started nursery, Emily plunged back into her work. Success was within reach…
Then Oliver fell ill. Something rare. Untreatable. Doctors shrugged. At just forty, he was fading fast.
Emily’s world shattered. Oliver, weak but clear-headed, begged forgiveness. “I’m sorry I won’t be here to help raise them…”
She sobbed in private, hiding her secret—she was pregnant again.
“You *will* get better!” she pleaded, gripping his hand.
In desperation, she called Oliver’s dad. The professor rushed over, examined him, then sighed. “Modern medicine’s hit a wall. But… there’s an old herbalist. Saved *me* once.”
Emily, sceptical, visited the man. He handed her vials of murky liquid. “Stick to the dose. Bring your husband in ten days.”
“*Bring* him? He can’t move!”
“Listen—he’s *alive*. He’ll walk in here, mark my words.”
Emily nearly tossed the remedy. *Ridiculous.* But with no options left, she tried it.
Ten days later, Oliver *walked* into the herbalist’s office. A month later, he was back at work. A miracle? Maybe. The herbalist never named the illness. His only advice: “Forgive everyone. Envy no one.”
Soon, little Henry was born.
Charlotte, William, Grace, Henry—straight out of a Shakespearean tale.
Oliver and Emily cherish their love fiercely. They know happiness is fleeting, but grief lingers.
As for Emily’s unfinished doctorate? She closed that chapter.
Her family—that’s the greatest story she’ll ever write.
