Yet fate cannot be cheated after all.
Best friends Sophie and Emily had been inseparable since childhood, both growing up in the same village. Everyone said their friendship was “thick as thieves.” Both were lovely, though Sophie had a gentler, calmer air about her, while Emily burned like fire—quick-witted and sharp-tongued.
By secondary school, everyone knew Daniel fancied Sophie, though she never took his lingering glances seriously. Still, it flattered her pride—the lad followed her about, bringing wildflowers, asking her out every day, even confessing his love. But Sophie would only smile at this sweet, bashful Daniel. Perhaps things might have worked out between them if not for Michael, the arrogant charmer who set his sights on every pretty girl in sight.
Dark-haired and brown-eyed, Michael strutted through the school corridors like he owned them, leaving a trail of smitten girls in his wake. Both friends fell for him, joking at first:
“Imagine, Sophie,” Emily laughed, “some lucky girl’ll land him as a husband one day!”
Michael, sensing their rivalry, played them like a fiddle—one week with Sophie, the next with Emily. Soon, the girls grew bitter toward each other, and their quarrels only fueled his ego. He loved winding them up, though he never spared affection.
One day, their friendship shattered over Michael. They waited to see whom he’d choose. Then Sophie met him and said:
“Mike, I’m expecting your child. What do we do?”
“Really?” He scratched his head, surprised. “Well, what’s there to think about? We’ll marry—a child needs a father. Unless you’ve other plans?”
Fate chose for them, and Michael settled down. A week later was their school prom. Unexpectedly, the friends made peace, speaking as if all was forgiven. Sophie believed Emily’s well-wishes were sincere. But she was wrong—Emily left with bitterness festering in her heart.
Michael and Sophie married in a lively village celebration, then settled into domestic life. They were happy—peaceful, even—when their son, Alfie, was born. They lived in Sophie’s grandmother’s cottage, which Michael expanded with his skilled carpentry. He worked as a tractor driver, handy with machinery.
Then hard times came. The recession hit, and Sophie lost her accounting job. The farm was downsizing, and though Michael kept his position, he was sent on extended leave.
“Mike, what do we do?” Sophie fretted. “Alfie’s outgrown everything—he starts Year 1 soon. His shoes are falling apart, and winter’s coming. We’ll need coats, boots…”
Michael agreed. Alfie, nearly seven, wore through clothes fast. The farm was struggling.
The head accountant, Margaret, took pity on Sophie. She was sharp and efficient, so when they met at the shops, Margaret said:
“Sophie, my daughter mentioned the Tax Office in town needs a secretary—loads of work, mind. She’d have taken it, but she’s due in three months.”
“Oh, thank you, Margaret! I’ll take the first bus tomorrow,” Sophie said brightly.
She arrived early, sitting stiffly in the Tax Office lobby until called in. The pay was meagre, the workload heavy, but she wasn’t afraid of hard work. Finally, her name was called.
“Hello,” she said softly.
“Good afternoon. Please, sit,” said a crisp voice. The woman behind the desk wore sharp glasses and a stern suit, her lips painted red. She glanced up—and Sophie nearly jumped.
“Emily?!” she gasped. “What a surprise!”
“Sophie.” Emily’s smile was thin. “Years later, and you’re just the same. So, you’re after this job?”
“Yes,” Sophie said eagerly.
“How will you commute from the village daily?” Emily’s tone was cool.
“By bus—they run often. But tell me, how’ve you been? You left for university after school.”
“I did. Got my degree, came back, and worked my way up. As you see.”
“You’ve done well,” Sophie said sincerely. “Maybe we’ll work together again!”
Emily leaned back, smoothing her hair. “I’m afraid not. We need someone local—late hours, weekends. Another candidate’s already lined up. Better luck elsewhere.”
Silence hung heavy. Emily returned to her screen, and Sophie stood, dismissed.
“You could’ve said sooner,” she muttered, heading for the door. “Any other leads?”
“None. Good luck.” Emily’s cheer was hollow.
Sophie knew then—the old grudge still festered.
“Emily?!” Michael frowned when Sophie told him. “She’s got some nerve! You were classmates!”
He was furious. Sophie sipped chamomile tea, weary.
“Mike, why fuss? That was years ago. Lives change.”
“No, I’ll have words with her—see how high-and-mighty she acts then!”
“Leave it,” Sophie pleaded. “I’ll find work. Alfie needs us.”
But Michael stormed off to town. He returned late, grim-faced.
“Well?” Sophie pressed.
“We spoke. The job’s taken—bloke with experience, qualifications, lives nearby. Can’t blame her.”
Sophie blinked. “So you… made peace? Why so late?”
“Bus broke down. Then stopped by the lads’ garage, helped with repairs.”
“You’re on leave!”
“Soph, the farm’s drowning. Two tractors need brakes.”
Three days later, Sophie landed a post office job—Vera was retiring. She threw herself into the work, relieved.
“Alfie’ll have new clothes for school,” she said, sorting papers briskly.
Things settled—until Sophie grew uneasy about Michael. Though “on leave,” he left at dawn each day, claiming to fix tractors. She nodded, trusting him.
Then, walking home, she bumped into Daniel. They rarely met, living at opposite ends of the village. He’d never married. His eyes still brightened at her, though he tried to hide it.
“Hello, Sophie.”
“Hi. How’ve you been?”
“Alright. Where’s Michael? Asked him to fix my tractor, but he’s never at the garage. Sick?”
“What? He leaves early, comes home late—always at the farm.”
“Haven’t seen him. Nor have the lads. Best I go—don’t want trouble.”
Sophie watched him leave, an old ache flaring. That evening, Michael avoided her gaze, washing his hands briskly. She snapped.
“Liar. Tell me the truth. You’re not at the farm—you’re in town, aren’t you?”
He slumped onto a chair, hands clenched.
“Yes. Seeing Emily. No point lying now. Soon as I saw her… I still love her.”
Sophie’s tears fell. “Pack your things. Go.”
Everything—years of love, patience—crumbled to ash.
Michael left the next day. Time passed. One day, Daniel appeared by her fence.
“Hi. How’s life?”
“Fine. Alfie’s finishing Year 1. Why’re you here?”
“This fence is tilting. Mind if I fix it? Drives me mad, seeing it like this.”
*He still loves me,* Sophie realized, *look how he stares.*
“If it bothers you so much, fix it. Come Saturday.”
Daniel grinned, pleased. He repaired the fence while she hung laundry.
“Blimey, Sophie, you’re lovelier every year.”
“What, think I’ll leap at you just because my husband left?” she snapped, then flushed, hating herself.
Daniel gazed at her—his first and only love. He finished quietly, bid her goodbye, and left. Sophie paced, regretting her harshness.
Two months later, they met again on a footpath, August’s cool breeze carrying spiderwebs and cricket songs.
“Hello. Why so smiley, eh?” Daniel teased. “Can I hold your hand?”
“Yes,” Sophie laughed, and they tumbled into each other’s arms.
Walking the outskirts, she mused—this could’ve happened years ago, had she not chased Michael, who proved worthless. But fate cannot be cheated. It always finds its way.
Later, she heard Michael had slunk back to his parents—things with Emily fizzled. But Sophie was happy now, expecting her second child with Daniel.
