**Happiness for Emily**
Emily had been meaning to do this for a long timeadopt a child from an orphanage. After six years of marriage, her husband had left her for someone younger, more successful. The whole ordeal had drained her; she had no energy left to try again, to find someone whod stand by her “for better, for worse.” No, enough was enough. Thats what she decided. If she were to pour her love and warmth into anyone, it wouldnt be a partneritd be someone who truly needed it.
So, she got to work. She contacted social services, gathered all the paperwork. Now came the hardest partfinding the right boy to call her son, to become her legacy, and to give all the love shed stored up over her 38 years.
She didnt want a babytoo afraid she couldnt handle the sleepless nights, the nappies, the burping. That time in her life had passed. Instead, she headed to the orphanage to find a little lad, three or four years old, whod become hers.
On the bus ride there, she fidgeted nervously, like before a first date, barely noticing the proper spring that had settled over the cityyoung, silken, with a crisp chill and impossibly bright sun.
The bus creaked around corners while Emily sat lost in thought, imagining the child who already existed somewhere but didnt yet know fate had picked him for her.
Outside, the city hummed with lifecars gleaming in the light, people bustling about. None of them knew she was on her way to meet her own happiness. She turned away from the other passengers, staring through the window without really seeing, already smiling at the son shed meet in just a few minutes.
Then came her stop. The sign read simply: *Childrens Home.* Next stop: *Nursery.*
She stepped off and saw the old building aheadonce grand, with columns now peeling and patchy where the plaster had crumbled, like some odd wartime camouflage.
Inside, she explained herself to the security guard, who pointed her to the headmistresss office.
The woman waiting there was elderly, draped in a hand-knitted cardigan gone bobbly with age. She had a provincial air about her, a bit untidy, but her sharp eyes left no doubt shed spent decades exactly where she belonged.
They didnt talk longtheyd spoken on the phone the day before.
“Right then,” the headmistress said, rising. “Shall we go and meet them?”
Emily followed her down a long corridor with dark blue panelled walls.
“The little ones are in the playroom,” the headmistress called over her shoulder before pushing open the door.
About fifteen children, boys and girls, were scattered across the carpeted floor or digging through toy chests. A carer sat by the window, scribbling notes, glancing up now and then to keep an eye on things.
The moment the women entered, the children rushed over, as if this were routine. They clutched at Emilys knees, hugged the headmistress, tilting their faces up like eager chicks, all shouting at once:
“Mums here for me! Take me!”
“No, shes *my* mum! I dreamed about her last night!”
“Pick me! Ill be your daughter!”
The headmistress patted their heads absently, murmuring quick notes about each child to Emily, who stood frozen, suddenly wishing she could take them all.
*All of them*even the boy by the window, still on his little chair, who hadnt joined the rush. He just turned his head slightly, watching the familiar scene with tired eyes.
For some reason, Emily walked straight to him. She rested a hand on his head.
Beneath her palm, his small, slightly slanted eyessome indeterminate shadestared up at her, oddly fitting his round face, broad nose, and faint, pale eyebrows. He looked nothing like the child shed imagined.
As if confirming her thoughtthat he was *all wrong*he spoke:
“You wont pick me anyway.”
Yet his gaze clung to her, pleading silently for the opposite.
“Why do you say that, love?” Emily asked, leaving her hand where it was.
“‘Cause Im always poorly. Got a runny nose most days. And” He sniffed, as if on cue. “And Ive got a little sister, Lottie. Shes in the baby room. I go see her every day, pat her head so she dont forget shes got a brother. Names Alfie. And I aint going nowhere without Lottie.”
Right then, as if to prove his point, his nose started running properly.
And *thats* when Emily knewher whole life had been leading her to a snotty little Alfie who caught colds too often, and to a Lottie she hadnt even met yet but already loved.
**Lesson learned: Sometimes, the things we think we dont want are exactly what we need.**
