**Fate Would Not Allow the Deceit**
Every man has his own fate. Fate is a fickle thingsometimes it drags you under so deep you can hardly breathe, and other times it lifts you with such joy that the air leaves your lungs all the same.
Emily was young and inexperienced, yet her fate had already been written. On that frosty morning, she stood by her grandmothers grave as the frozen earth swallowed the last traces of the woman who had raised her. Her heart was hollow, nothing left but the dull ache of losing the only family she had. Since she was ten, it had just been her and Granny Margarether parents were long gone.
A thin snow fell silently, but she barely noticed. The handful of mourners had already drifted away from the cemetery when her cousin, William, approached. Theyd never been closehe never visited Granny, not after his own mother had fallen out with her.
William leaned in, his voice low.
*”You wont be staying in the house. Youre out by tonight. Ive as much right to it as you. And dont even think of arguing.”*
He didnt ask. He declared it, as though his word was law. Emily had no strength left to fight. Shed spent the last months nursing Granny Margaret till the end, and now, grief swallowed every other thought.
The wake was held in a small café. William didnt even bother showing up. When Emily returned home, her bags were already at the door.
*”Check if I missed anything,”* he said. *”Then leave.”*
She stepped out into the cold, clutching her suitcases, with no idea where to go. But then her neighbour, Mrs. Whitmore, leaned over her garden gate.
*”Emily, come inside.”*
She collapsed onto a chair in Mrs. Whitmores parlour and weptgrief, anger, betrayal, all pouring out. Mrs. Whitmore brought her a glass of water.
*”Stay with us for now. Rest. Things will look clearer in the morning.”*
Two days later, Emily returned to work at the hospital where she was a nurse. She was kind, well-likedher bright eyes and warm smile had always brought comfort to patients. But now, those eyes were shadowed.
Everyone knew about Granny Margaret. The staff, even the patients, treated her gently.
*”Emily, love, just seeing you makes the pain fade,”* joked old Mr. Thompson. *”Youve got a healing touch. Wish I were seventeen again…”*
She smiled faintly. She loved her work, loved the people. When the head nurse, Matron Eleanor, heard she had nowhere to go, she offered her spare cottage.
*”Its a bit of a trek by bus, but youre welcome to it. We only use it in summeryou can keep the place warm till you sort things out.”*
Emily was about to accept when Dr. James, the new physician, approached. Handsome, confident, just turned thirty. Hed come from another city, and his offer stunned her.
*”Emily, I heard about your situation. My grandmother raised me tooparents divorced, neither wanted me. I noticed you the moment I arrived. Those eyes of yours like a bit of sunlight trapped in this place.”* He grinned; she flushed. *”Truth is, I fancy you. Move in with me.”*
Emily stiffened. *”But what about Dr. Charlotte? Everyone says youre together.”*
James laughed. *”Bloody gossip. Charlotte and I were at uni togetherof course we talk. Nothing more. And stop sir-ing me, Im not your granddad.”*
Dr. Charlotteelegant, sharp-eyedworked in anaesthesiology. Everyone assumed they were involved. Emily liked her, though something in her gaze felt predatory.
She couldnt believe a man like James would look twice at her, let alone offer her a home.
*”I cant just move in with you,”* she said. *”What will people say?”*
*”Then well say youre helping with my grandmother. Ive got a big houseyour own room, no funny business. And Grans there too. Lovely woman. Shes been nagging me to bring a girl home.”*
Emily gave in. *”Fine. But lets keep up the pretencefor now.”*
*”Youre brilliant,”* James said, squeezing her hand.
At last, a proper roof over her head. And if James truly fancied her perhaps her luck was turning.
The hospital bought the storyEmily was just caring for Jamess grandmother. And GranMrs. Beatricewas every bit as kind as promised. When she heard what had happened, she wept for Emily and embraced her like family.
*”My dear, Im so glad James found you. Life sorts itself out in time. Lord knows he needs settling down.”*
Weeks passed. Emily grew fond of Mrs. Beatrice. James was often gonetheir shifts rarely alignedbut when they met, hed smile, hug her, whisper how glad he was shed come.
*”I hope this turns into something more,”* hed say.
But one evening, Mrs. Beatrice pulled her aside.
*”Forgive an old womans curiosity, dear, but why separate rooms? Young folks these days dont wait.”*
Emily hesitated. *”I I like him. But Im not ready for that.”*
Life was good. She rushed home from work to Mrs. Beatrices warm chatter, feeling, just for a moment, like Granny Margaret was still there.
*”Youre just what James needs,”* Mrs. Beatrice said. *”Kind, gentle. Not like that last girl he brought round. Sharp as a knife, that one.”*
Then, one night, James took Emily for a walk.
*”Grans ill,”* he said. *”Cancer. She doesnt knowI dont want her frightened. But she forgets her pills. I need you to make sure she takes them. If she refuses”* His voice cracked. *”I cant lose her.”*
Emily agreed. He kissed her thenhard, desperatebut she pulled away.
Back home, she tucked the pills into her bag, uneasy. Mrs. Beatrice had never mentioned illness. Yet she was spry, cooking, cleaning, even joining Emily for walks.
*”Rest, Mrs. Beatrice,”* Emily would say.
*”Nonsense! You work hard enough.”*
The next evening, James was home when Emily returned. After dinner, they all parted waysJames to bed, Emily to her room. But something nagged at her. She needed to see those prescriptions.
She crept to Jamess doorslightly ajarand froze.
He was on the phone, laughing. A cold, ugly sound.
*”She bought it, Charlotte. Of course she didnaïve little thing. Just watch, shell dose Gran herself. By our wedding day, the old batll be gone.”* A pause. *”Dont fret, darling. Separate roomsshes not my type. You know who I want.”*
Emilys hands shook. She barely made it back to her room before the tears came.
*”So thats his game.”*
The next morning, after James left, Emily knocked on Mrs. Beatrices door.
The old woman was fineno cancer, no pills. Just a grandson in a hurry.
By the time James returned, Mrs. Beatrice had packed his bags herself.
*”Take the money. Leave. I know what you planned.”*
James vanished. Word was, hed fled town.
Emily still lives with Mrs. Beatrice. And who knows? Maybe that big house will be hers one day.
**Lesson learned: Fate sees through lies. Always.**
