“My love, my poor little girl…” whispered Elaine through her tears, cradling her newborn daughter. “I already know the fate life has in store for you…”
The baby eagerly nuzzled against her mother’s chest, sometimes wincing as tears dripped onto her tiny cheeks—but hunger won out. Elaine hardly noticed. Her heart was torn by memories, fears, and the cursed family legacy of loneliness.
A nurse in a crisp white uniform stepped into the room and gave the new mother a stern look.
“Still drowning in tears? You’ll soak the poor mite. What’s the matter? The baby’s healthy, you’ve milk enough, yet you sit there as if at a funeral. Dry your eyes—rejoice.”
Elaine startled as if waking from a trance. She managed a faint smile—whether for the nurse or her child, it was unclear—and whispered weakly,
“I am happy, truly… I’m just afraid she’ll follow the path of all the women in our family. We’ve all raised children alone. I’d hoped a boy might break the curse… but here we are.”
“You’re a good mother,” the nurse said, softening. “But don’t shackle your little one with that old doom. A ship sails as she’s named. Have you picked one?”
Elaine lowered her eyes.
“Mum and Gran insist on Mary—we’ve always had Marys, Marthas, Maisies… But I read once it can mean ‘bitter.’ I won’t have it. I’ll call her Joy. Let her life be different.”
“There’s a thought,” nodded the nurse. “Joy in name, joy in heart.”
Joy grew up strong as an ox—bold, determined, unshakable. Top of her class, leader of the pack. Though she hardly fit Gran’s idea of a “marriageable young lady”—broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, striding about in trainers with a swagger. She ran with the boys, lived in jeans and tees.
“Joy, you’re not a lad!” fretted Gran Edith. “Your wardrobe’s stuffed with dresses, yet you dress like a navvy. Where’s the grace? Where’s the flowing hair?”
“Oh, leave off!” Joy would laugh. “It’s who I choose, not who chooses me.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself, love,” Elaine murmured. “Life doesn’t always bend to our will.”
Then, in her final year of school, Joy fell in love—with the last boy anyone expected. Tim, the quiet, bespectacled lad from the year below, who hid by the wall at the school disco, silently screaming, *I shouldn’t be here.* Joy marched over, grabbed his hand, and dragged him onto the dance floor. He had no choice but to follow. From that day, they were inseparable.
They went to university together, and by third year, Joy—never one to wait—proposed herself.
“Enough dawdling,” she told him. “Time to make it official.”
Tim was thrilled. He was used to Joy deciding, and him agreeing. His parents were overjoyed—so was Elaine’s family. If anyone could break the lonely streak, it was Joy.
In their fifth year, their son was born. Joy took maternity leave while Tim stayed on as a lecturer. Life was perfect… until Joy sensed the change.
Tim grew distant—late nights, sullen silences. Soon, he stopped speaking altogether—no chatter about students, no talk of his thesis. Just endless exhaustion. Joy knew. And she acted.
A friend in the dean’s office whispered the truth: sweet little Tim was sneaking about with Laura Parson, a mousy undergrad everyone called “the spectacled wallflower.” Joy didn’t hesitate. She cornered Laura outside the dorm, gave her a clout in front of half the halls—and after that, Laura vanished like smoke.
With Tim, the conversation was brief—one black eye, then another.
“I—I just wanted to help, like you helped me,” he stammered from the floor.
“Help anyone else,” Joy hissed, “and I’ll unman you. Try me.”
From then on, Tim toed the line. He knew better than to risk it again—crossing Joy was a losing game. The girl once doomed to loneliness had not only shattered the family curse but built a home where she stood firm—the heart, the shield, and yes… the *Joy*.
And so, the lesson? Names may shape fate, but it’s the strength behind them that truly steers the course.
