Life has a way of changing plans.
Emily grew up in a modest familyher parents were ordinary engineers, living in an old council flat, always struggling to make ends meet. She envied the girls who dressed nicely while she had little more than her school uniform and a couple of faded dresses.
When she finished school and got into university, she made a firm decision:
*”My home will be different. My life will be different.”*
And she made it happenthough not straight away. For a while, she worked as a teacher, covering English literature, then even transferred to the local education authority. Later, an old university friend suggested she join their foreign-invested firm.
*”Come on, Em, youve got nothing to losequite the opposite. The pays decent,”* she said, naming her own salary. Emily nearly dropped her cup of tea. *”Weve got a great team, and I know yousharp and capable.”*
*”Thanks, love, Ill come by. Moneys always welcome,”* Emily smiled.
By then, she was already married to William, and their son, Oliver, was four. They lived with his parentscramped, and dependent on them. William worked as a dental technician.
The new job surpassed Emilys expectations. She loved it, earned well, and soon bought a large flat on mortgage. Then came the expensive car. Her bosses quickly noticed her effortsshe even got hefty bonuses. Time flew, her career soared, and soon she was deputy director.
Of course, it left its mark. Emily grew a bit full of herself, especially around Williams family. Their lifestyle was leagues above his sister Graces.
*”Em, come on, well be late,”* William nudged her as they got ready for Graces birthday. *”And pleasetry to be nice. I want today to go smoothly.”*
Emily nodded. She genuinely meant to behaveno snide remarks today. William fidgeted; she always took ages to get ready. Meanwhile, Emily applied her makeup with deliberate calm. She wasnt exactly thrilled to visit Grace and Simon.
*”Everything about them is so plain,”* she thought, studying her reflection. *”Dated salads, basic sandwichesno smoked salmon, no fine wine, just cheap vodka. And the flata cramped two-bedder with worn-out furniture. Three kids and a struggling greengrocersmust barely break even.”*
Finally done, she slipped into an elegant dress and glided out. William and Oliver sprang up from the sofa.
*”About time.”*
By the time they trudged up five flights of stairs (no lift, of course) and squeezed into the narrow hallway, Emilys mood had soured. The flat was packedkids shrieking, elbows bumping at the table. Grace wore old jeans and a checked shirt.
*”Couldve dressed up for her own birthday,”* Emily mused, sitting beside William.
Before dinner, she handed Grace an expensive perfume.
*”Thanks, Em. You always know just the thingscents special.”*
Emily scanned the roomsame peeling wallpaper, battered bookshelves, frayed sofa. All desperately outdated.
Simon, Graces husband, had never warmed to Emily. His smirk annoyed hershe assumed he envied her success. Grace, after all, never bothered with manicures. Now, with that same smirk, he asked:
*”Hows work, Em? Gearing up for director soon?”*
*”Fine. Soon enough,”* she forced a smile. *”Youve got quite the crowd today.”*
*”Grace is loved. Thats why theyre here,”* he said, casting an adoring glance at his wife.
The evening passed without incident. Back home, Emily and William lounged on their plush sofa, sipping Spanish wine.
*”Went alright, then?”* he ventured.
*”Tolerable. You know I dont like them, and they dont like meso lets drop it,”* she said, swirling her glass.
William let it go.
The next Monday, word spread about layoffs. The director was leaving, and colleagues assumed Emily would take his place.
*”Em, its got to be you,”* a coworker said over coffee.
*”No ones said anything,”* she replied.
Then the summons came. The CEO called her in. Walking down the corridor, she braced for congratulations.
*”Take a seat, Emily,”* he began politely, then shifted tone. *”Youre brilliantsharp, reliable. But heres the rub. The directors being let goand so is his entire team, you included. I tried to stop it, but cuts are cuts. Its not about performancejust restructuring.”*
Emily left in a daze. Silent, she collected her things and went home. Oliver was still at school, William at work. She sank onto the sofa and cried.
*”A generous severancewhat good is that? I gave everything to that company. Late nights, thinking I was indispensable. And nowdiscarded.”*
*”Well manage,”* William soothed that evening. *”Youll find something else.”*
*”Will? Where? Nothing pays like that!”*
*”Less pays better than none. Im still working, weve savings. Itll work out.”*
*”Youre the best,”* she sighed, leaning into him. *”But it doesnt help.”*
*”Take a week. Then start looking.”*
But she couldnt wait. Next day, she sent out CVs, scoured job boards. A month passednothing. No calls. The abrupt halt to her career left her adrift.
*”Will, we need to cut back,”* she said one evening. *”Severance wont last. No more eating outIll cook, though Im rubbish at it.”*
*”Home-cookeds better. Youll learn,”* he smiled.
Finally, a callan interview. The man across the desk wore a crisp white shirt, tailored suit, easy smile.
*”Impressive client-handling experience,”* he noted.
*”Ive climbed every rung at my old firm.”*
*”Except the top. Your sons olderno more children planned?”* She stiffened.
*”Thats hardly relevant.”*
*”Just thorough. Nowsalary expectations?”*
She named a figure close to her old wage. His eyebrows shot up.
*”Thats steep. We offer halfpartly bonus-based. Frankly, jobs like yours arent paying that now. Seems were not a fit…”*
She left seething. At home, she ranted about undervalued skills and insulting offers.
Winter draggedsnowy, bitter. They sold the Mercedes.
*”Its just a car, Em,”* William said, stroking her hair. *”Well get something smaller. Tough times pass.”*
Then Grace called.
*”Em, can I come over? Need to talk.”*
Over coffee, Grace offered: *”Join us at the shop. Simons starting a tiling businesshes good at it. I cant run the place alone. Need help with stock, shelvesits a lot. Supermarkets steal our trade, but I trust you. Wed work together.”*
Emily froze. *”You want me hauling potatoes?”*
*”Ill handle deliveries at first. Youd get the hang of it.”*
She bit back a retort, gave no answer. Later, she unloaded on William.
*”How dare she? Mea shopgirl? Its humiliating!”*
He snapped. *”Enough! Months of moping, turning your nose upGrace is trying to help! Theres no shame in work. If life changes plans, adapt.”*
Shed never seen him so angry. Two days of silence followed. Then, when he returned from work:
*”WillIll do it. Starts tomorrow.”*
*”Thats my girl. Your skills will shine there too.”*
A year and a half later, Emily barely recognised herself. The first month, she cried over rough hands and ruined nails. Rude customers tested her patience, but she held her tongue. By month three, shed mastered the trade.
Then Grace broke her leg. Emily took chargedriving the van, hauling produce, hiring help. They closed briefly, revamped the shop, Emily investing her savings.
She drafted a business plan, brainstormed marketing tricks to rival supermarketsand it worked. Profits climbed.
Now, studying her reflectionjeans, checked shirt, trainers instead of heelsshe grinned. No Mercedes, fewer salon trips, but her smile was real. Life had recalibrated.
Theyre even planning a second shop. And theyll do it.
