The Unexpected Bouquet and a Twist of Fate
Emily sat alone in her modest flat in the quiet town of Whitley Bay when the silence was shattered by a knock at the door. Reluctantly, she rose from the sofa and peered through the peephole. A young man stood there, holding an enormous bouquet of flowers. “Who could that be?” she wondered, frowning.
“Who is it?” Emily called, hesitating to open the door.
“Flowers for you,” the stranger replied.
She cracked the door open, eyeing him with suspicion.
“Flowers?” she echoed, surprised. “For me?”
“Yes, for you,” the young man smiled. “You are Alice, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m Emily,” she answered, feeling a flicker of disappointment.
“Hold on,” he said, flustered as he pulled out his phone. “I’m sorry, I must have the wrong flat.”
“It’s alright,” Emily sighed, offering a faint smile before retreating inside.
But moments later, the knock came again. This time, when she looked through the peephole, her eyes widened in astonishment.
Today was Emily’s twenty-fifth birthday, and for the first time, she was spending it alone. There was no joy in her heart. She didn’t want to see friends, leave the house, or pretend everything was fine.
Her best friend, Charlotte, had tried to convince her to celebrate at a café.
“You can’t shut yourself away and sulk on your birthday!” Charlotte had insisted. “You’re only twenty-five! Love will find you. And that Oliver isn’t worth your tears. Get dressed—we’ll pick you up!”
“No, Charlotte, not today,” Emily had replied firmly.
“But it’s your birthday! You should celebrate!”
“I don’t want to. I’m sorry.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Charlotte sighed. “But if you change your mind, call me.”
“I won’t.”
Emily was still reeling from her breakup with Oliver, her fiancé. They had been together nearly a year, and he had even proposed. She had been over the moon, dreaming of their wedding, a life together, children. But those dreams had crumbled when she discovered Oliver had been leading a double life.
There was another woman, Sarah. Oliver had planned to marry Emily, but with Sarah, it was just “for fun.” Everything changed when Sarah announced she was pregnant. Her father, an influential man and Oliver’s boss, gave him an ultimatum: marry her or lose his job.
When the truth came out, Emily was devastated. And when Oliver suggested she stay as his mistress after marrying Sarah, she was speechless.
“You’re seriously asking me to be your mistress?!” she cried, feeling her world collapse.
“What’s the problem?” he had the nerve to ask. “We’re good together. You love me, I—”
“What kind of love is this?!” she snapped. “You lied to me, cheated on me! Is that what love means to you?”
“Sarah threw herself at me,” he defended. “She’s beautiful—I’m only human! But she’s dull, and with you, I can talk about anything.”
“Don’t!” Emily cut him off. “Get out. I never want to see you again.”
At that moment, it felt like her life had shattered. How could she ever trust a man again? Oliver had sworn his love, courted her with grand gestures, called her the woman of his dreams—only for it all to be a lie.
Emily couldn’t help but think of her mother, abandoned by her father when she was just three. Later, when Emily was in primary school, her mother had tried to move on—only for her new man to leave her for her best friend. Since then, her mother, Margaret, had given up on love.
“At least may you find someone worthy, my dear,” Margaret often sighed, worrying for Emily.
She had been overjoyed when Emily announced her engagement. Margaret lived in the countryside where Emily had grown up. After school, Emily had moved to the city, attended university, found work, and rented a flat—dreaming of a family. Now, after Oliver’s betrayal, she doubted it would ever happen.
Her twenty-fifth birthday brought no happiness. She had imagined spending it with the man she loved. Instead, she was alone, heartbroken. Emily made herself a cup of cocoa and wrapped herself in a warm blanket her mother had knitted. Margaret was skilled at needlework, and her creations were admired by many. Emily enjoyed knitting too, though she’d never match her mother’s talent.
Before she could take a sip, the knock came again.
“Strange,” she thought. “Who could that be? Please, not Charlotte and Sophie—I told them I wasn’t going out.”
Emily was reserved and preferred solitude when she was down. She checked the peephole. There stood the same young man with a lavish bouquet.
“Who is it?” she called.
“Flowers for you,” he repeated.
She opened the door slightly, studying him and the bouquet.
“Flowers? For me?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “You’re Alice, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m Emily,” she said, a pang of annoyance creeping in.
“Wait,” he faltered, checking a slip of paper. “This is your flat?”
“Yes, but I’m not Alice.”
“Just a moment,” he said, handing her the bouquet. “Could you hold these?”
He made a call, likely confirming the address.
“Which flat? Right, got it,” he said, turning back to Emily. “Sorry—I mixed up twenty-five and five. Terribly awkward.”
“It’s fine,” Emily smiled. “Good thing you asked for the name. I might’ve taken flowers meant for someone else. Today’s my birthday—this would’ve been quite the surprise, but still…”
“Your birthday?!” he exclaimed. “Happy birthday! You must be expecting guests, and here I am interrupting—”
“No guests, no celebrations,” she murmured. “But the bouquet is lovely. I’m sure Alice will love it. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” he said awkwardly. “Again, sorry…”
Closing the door, Emily returned to her cocoa. It had gone cold, and she didn’t own a microwave. She decided to make a fresh cup.
“I wonder,” she mused, stirring the steaming drink, “does Alice in flat twenty-five share my birthday? Or is it just her lucky day? And that man—he was quite handsome. So flustered when he realised his mistake. What’s his name?”
Her thoughts swirled as she sipped her cocoa. Maybe she’d been wrong to refuse the café. Why stay home moping? Charlotte was right—she shouldn’t dwell on Oliver’s betrayal. Life went on.
Emily picked up her phone and dialled her friend.
“There! The best decision yet!” Charlotte cheered. “Get ready, I’ll call Sophie—we’ll get a cab and have a proper celebration! No more moping.”
Emily did her makeup and slipped into the new dress she’d bought with Oliver. She had chosen it imagining his embrace, his compliments. Now it felt like a relic of the past, but she refused to let it haunt her.
As she checked herself in the mirror, the knock came again.
“Someone else lost?” she muttered and opened the door without checking.
Her eyes widened. There he was again—holding another breathtaking bouquet.
“Wrong flat again?” she asked.
“No, this time it’s right,” he grinned. “These are for you, Emily. Happy birthday.”
“You shouldn’t have,” she stammered. “Though it’s lovely. I’ll put them in water.”
“Emily,” he said gently, “you seemed so sad earlier—not celebrating, all alone. I wanted to cheer you up, to ask you for a walk. But now you’re… well, stunning. I suppose my invitation’s too late—you’re heading out?”
“What’s your name?” she blurted.
“James.”
“James, I’m going to a café with my friends to celebrate,” she said, surprising herself with her boldness. “Why don’t you join us?”
“I’d love to,” he replied, gazing at her in admiration. “If I won’t intrude.”
“You won’t,” she assured him.
It turned into the most wonderful evening—the best birthday Emily had ever had. He had given her the gift of meeting the man who would change her life.
Later, she learned James was a talented interior designer, moonlighting as a courier to help a friend who ran a florist.
“I like handing out bouquets,” he confessed. “Especially seeing the smiles they bring.”
“Often mix up addresses?” Emily teased.
“Only once,” he replied. “But it wasn’t a mistake—it was fate leading me to you.”
“And me to you,” she added. “If I hadn’t stayed home, we’d have missed each other. It’s terrifying to think we might never have met.”
“I think we would’ve,” James said. “Fate doesn’t miss. Don’t you agree?”
“ITen years later, Emily still smiles at the memory, watching James play with their two boys in their sunlit cottage by the sea.
