Fate, it seemed, could not be cheated.
Best friends Daisy and Emily had been inseparable since childhood, growing up in the same village where everyone swore their bond was unbreakable. Both were pretty—Daisy with her gentle, serene air, Emily fiery and quick-tempered.
In their later school years, it was common knowledge that Daniel pined for Daisy, though she never took his affections seriously. Still, his devotion flattered her—how he trailed after her, picked wildflowers, begged her to walk with him, even confessed his love. Daisy only smiled at the bashful lad. Perhaps things might have worked between them, had not the arrogant Michael stepped in, intent on winning over every pretty girl in sight.
Dark-haired and brown-eyed, Michael strutted down the school corridors, leaving hearts fluttering in his wake. Both friends fell for him, laughing at first.
“Imagine, Daisy,” Emily teased, “what luck some girl will have, snagging a husband like Michael!”
And Michael, knowing he had them both smitten, played the part of a Casanova, dividing his time between them—a week with one, then the other. Soon, the girls grew resentful, their rivalry only fueling his ego. He delighted in stirring them up, though he never withheld affection.
One day, the once-inseparable friends quarreled bitterly over him, each waiting to see whom he would choose. Then, Daisy met him with news.
“Michael, I’m expecting your child. What do we do?”
“Really?” He scratched his head. “Well, what’s there to think? We’ll marry—a child needs a father. Suppose you’ll have me?”
Fate had chosen for them, and Michael settled down. A week later, they attended their school leavers’ ball. Unexpectedly, the girls made peace, their talk seeming sincere, exchanging wishes of happiness. But Daisy was wrong—Emily left with bitterness smoldering beneath her smile.
The wedding was merry, the village in high spirits. Married life began quietly. They lived well in the cottage Daisy inherited from her grandmother, which Michael repaired and expanded—a skilled carpenter, though he worked as a combine harvester, handy with machinery.
Then came hard times. The crisis struck; Daisy, once a bookkeeper, was let go. The farm was shutting down, workers dismissed, though Michael was merely sent on extended leave.
“Michael, what do we do?” Daisy fretted. “Our Sammy’s clothes are worn through, and he starts school soon. His shoes are falling apart—and winter’s coming. We’ll need all new things.”
Michael agreed. Their nearly seven-year-old wore through everything, and the farm was struggling. The chief accountant, Evelyn, pitied Daisy—quick and capable, she had always been efficient. Meeting her at the shops, Evelyn said,
“Daisy, my daughter mentioned the tax office in town needs a secretary—though the work’s heavy. She’d take it herself, but she’s expecting now.”
“Thank you, Evelyn!” Daisy brightened. “I’ll go first thing tomorrow.”
At dawn, she boarded the bus to town. Stepping into the tax office, she sat waiting to be called. The pay was meagre, the duties many, but she was unafraid—work didn’t scare her when there was nothing else. Finally, she was summoned.
“Good day,” she said softly.
A sharp-voiced woman in glasses barely glanced up. “Take a seat.”
The woman wore a severe suit, bright lipstick, spectacles perched on her nose. When she finally looked up, Daisy nearly leaped from her chair.
“Emily?! What a surprise!”
“Fancy seeing you, Daisy,” Emily replied coolly. “So, you’re applying for the position?”
“Yes,” Daisy answered eagerly.
“And how will you manage the daily commute from the village?” Emily’s tone was measured, too calm.
“By bus—they run often enough. But tell me, Emily, how have you been?”
“I studied economics in the city, then returned here. I’ve done well—as you see.”
“You always were clever,” Daisy said warmly. “Perhaps we’ll work together now?”
Emily leaned back, smoothing her hair. “I’m afraid not. We need someone local—late hours, weekends. Besides, we’ve already found someone.”
Silence fell. Emily’s gaze returned to her screen; Daisy felt suddenly unnecessary.
“You might have said sooner,” she murmured, rising. “Do you know of any other work?”
“No. Best of luck.”
Daisy understood then—the old grudge still festered.
“Emily? That Emily?” Michael was incredulous when Daisy told him. “So she’s climbed high, has she? And she turned you down flat? After all those years?”
He was furious, but Daisy sipped her tea, resigned.
“Michael, why fuss? Schoolfriends we were—life changes people.”
“I’ll have words with her myself!”
“Leave it,” Daisy pleaded. “We’ll manage. Sammy needs us.”
But Michael stormed off to town, returning late, grim-faced.
“Well? Did you speak with her?”
“I did. The place was filled—better qualified, local. Can’t blame her.”
Daisy frowned. “You took your time.”
“Bus broke down. Then I stopped by the workshop, helped the lads.”
“You’re meant to be on leave!”
“The farm doesn’t stop for holidays. Two combines need brakes.”
Three days later, Daisy got a job at the post office—Vera was retiring. She threw herself into the work.
“Now Sammy will have new clothes,” she rejoiced.
Life settled, but Daisy grew uneasy about Michael. Though on leave, he left early each morning, “helping at the farm.” She nodded, trusting him.
Then, walking home, she met Daniel—rare now, living opposite ends of the village. He’d never married. His eyes still shone when he saw her, though he tried to hide it.
“Your Michael about? I’ve a combine needing repairs—haven’t seen him at the workshop.”
“What? He leaves every morning!”
“Not to the farm, Daisy. Best I go.”
That evening, Michael avoided her eyes. She confronted him.
“Where have you been lying to me? Tell me the truth!”
He slumped into a chair. “I’ve been seeing Emily. I never stopped loving her.”
Daisy’s tears fell. “Pack your things and go.”
Everything—years of love, patience—crumbled to ash.
Michael left the next day. Time passed. Then Daniel appeared by her fence.
“Your fence is sagging. Mind if I fix it?”
*Still he loves me*, she thought.
“Very well. Come Saturday.”
He repaired it while she hung washing.
“You grow lovelier each year,” he said.
“And you think because my husband left, I’ll fall into your arms?” she snapped, then instantly regretted it.
Daniel only gazed at her fondly. Finished, he left quietly. She paced, furious with herself.
Two months later, they met again on the path, the August evening cool, cobwebs drifting.
“Smiling at last, Daisy?” Daniel teased. “May I hold your hand?”
She laughed, and they rushed into each other’s arms.
Walking the lane, Daisy mused—this might have been years ago, had she been wiser. But fate could not be cheated. It always found its way.
Later, she heard Michael had returned to his parents—he and Emily couldn’t make a life together. But Daisy was happy now, expecting another child with her true love.
