Everything Happens for the Best Margaret Wright prided herself on being a strong and accomplished woman, and she was determined to shape her daughter, Clara, in her own image. Clara dutifully followed every recommendation, never daring to step out of line. “Clara,” Margaret would say sternly, “if you want to achieve what I have, you must walk the path I set for you—no deviating. I hope you understand me and remember this for life?” “Yes, Mum,” Clara would reply. Clara loved her mother and tried her best not to disappoint her. Margaret dreamed of raising a perfect ‘Miss Excellence’, but as Clara grew, it became harder to meet these high expectations. Children will be children—Clara would make messes, tear things, trip and fall. But at school, she excelled academically because she knew that getting a “C” was a tragedy for her mother. “Clara, shame on you! How could you get a ‘C’? Don’t you respect your father and me? Fix it at once and don’t embarrass us.” “Yes, Mum,” Clara would say obediently, though she sometimes tried to protest, “Mum, it was just one C—it was an accident—” “It doesn’t matter, love. You have to be better and smarter than everyone else.” Though the pressure got to her, Clara quickly corrected her grades. She graduated top of her class—Margaret was delighted when Clara easily got into the local university. “Well done, daughter, I’m proud of you,” her mother admitted once. “Keep it up.” Margaret ran her own construction business—quite unusual for a woman—and she was respected by men for her iron will. Margaret never doubted she’d have Clara working beside her after graduation. Of course Clara longed for freedom—even wanted to go to university in another city—but that was out of the question. “You’ll study here, under my watchful eye,” Margaret declared, “No need to move away—we have an excellent university right here.” Clara acquiesced as always. In third year, Clara fell in love. She’d dated before—but nothing serious. Oliver, a charming, blue-eyed blonde from a parallel course, completely won her heart. Oliver didn’t have Clara’s academic drive, but she happily helped him write his coursework, enjoying the time together. Soon, Margaret became suspicious. “Clara, are you in love?” “How do you know?” Clara was surprised. “It’s written all over your face. Bring him over—I need to know what sort of ‘bird’ he is.” Clara introduced Oliver to her parents. Even Margaret was polite. But when he left, her mother said, “He’s just using you. He’s not clever—what do you see in him?” “That’s not true, Mum,” Clara, for the first time, pushed back. “He’s ambitious and curious. You just intimidate him—why does everyone have to be like you?” “But Clara, he’s not your match,” Margaret insisted. Clara stood her ground. “Sorry, Mum, but whatever you say, I love him and will see him anyway.” Margaret stared in shock and shook her head. “One day you’ll see he’s just a nobody.” After graduation, Clara married Oliver, convinced her mother was wrong. Life proved that ordinary students often outpaced the high achievers—Oliver landed a prestigious job, while Clara remained at Margaret’s company. Oliver had his own apartment, so after the wedding, Clara finally moved out. But Margaret soon brought her back under her wing at work. One evening Oliver came home and announced, “Clara, I’ve been promoted to department head—probation, for now. But I’ll prove myself.” Three months later, the promotion became permanent. Oliver didn’t like Clara working under her mum. “Clara, you’ll never get anywhere while your mother controls you. Don’t you want to stand on your own?” He even began to call Margaret a ‘dragon’ and Clara a ‘pushover.’ It hurt to hear—but Clara knew he was right. Over time, Oliver stopped nagging, but grew distant and cold. Clara didn’t mind; at least he didn’t complain. About a year later, Oliver quietly confessed, “I’ve met someone else. I love her. She’s the real deal—I’m leaving you.” For the first time, Clara lost control—she screamed, broke plates, smashed his phone, tore a few shirts, then calmed down. Oliver calmly remarked, “So you do have passion. Pity I found out too late,” and left. “Hate you, hate you,” Clara muttered, then packed her things and moved into a rented flat. She didn’t tell Margaret—she knew what she’d say. For weeks, she hid the truth, but her mother noticed. “Clara, something’s wrong—you look miserable. Is there trouble with Oliver?” “There isn’t—because I don’t have a husband anymore.” “I knew it! He left you—when?” “In April.” “And you said nothing all this time?” Clara endured her mother’s tirade, but finally replied, “Mum, everything happens for the best,” stood up and added, “And by the way, I quit. I’ve had enough,” and left, leaving Margaret bewildered. Clara knew if she stayed, she’d hear lectures every day. She wandered the city, not sure where she was headed, and ended up injuring her ankle after stepping in a pothole. “A perfect end to a perfect day,” Clara thought. A young man walking by quickly rushed to help—since the tram had departed. He helped her up, offered a lift to the hospital, and introduced himself as Jamie. There was no fracture, just a sprain, so Jamie took her home and asked for her number, “Just in case you need help.” She agreed. The next day, Jamie brought her groceries, and soon he was cooking dinner, announcing, “We must celebrate meeting—let’s be on first-name terms.” Clara laughed—it was so easy with Jamie. He looked after her, brought food, cheered her up, and didn’t drink, explaining upfront. After four months, Clara and Jamie married, and a year later, their daughter Sophie was born. Friends asked how she’d found such a wonderful husband. “He literally picked me up off the street,” Clara would joke. “Don’t believe me? Ask him yourself…” Thank you for reading, subscribing, and for your support. Best wishes to you all.

Everything Happens for the Best

Margaret Thomas was the sort of mother who believed her daughter should be a mirror image of herself. She expected her daughter, Emily, to follow her advice in all things. Margaret fancied herself as strong and successful, so she constantly reminded Emily to follow the path shed laid out, not daring to stray.

Emily, she would say sternly, if you want to achieve what I have, you must stick to the plan I set for you, not a single step out of line. Do you understand and will you remember this for life?

Yes, Mum, Emily would reply.

Emily adored her mother and wanted desperately not to disappoint her. Margaret expected nothing less than perfection. However, as Emily grew up, it became harder and harder to be flawless.

She was still a child, after allthere were stains on her dresses, torn books, scraped knees, and broken things. But at school, she was top of her class. She knew all too well that if she brought home a C, her mother would act as if it were the end of the world.

Emily, its a disgrace! How could you get a C? Dont you respect your father and me? Correct this immediately, please.

All right, Mum, Emily would say obediently, adding, But Mum, its just one C. It happened by accident…

It doesnt matter, Emily. You must be the best and brightest. No exceptions.

Emily always worried, but managed to turn everything around quickly. She finished school with top honours; there could be no other outcome. Margaret was pleased when her daughter breezed through her A-levels and got into university.

Well done, Emily, Im proud of you, Margaret admitted once, before quickly reminding her, and you must keep it up.

Margaret ran a construction firma rare field for a woman, but she was tough as nails and ran the business with such authority that some of the male businessmen barely concealed their amazement. She was sure that Emily, once she finished her degree, would join her at the company.

Of course, Emily longed to be free from her mothers gripshe dreamed of studying in London or maybe even moving to Manchester for university. But those were just dreams.

You need to stay under my watch, Emily, Margaret snapped. Theres a perfectly good university here in Birmingham. Thats where youll go.

Emily didnt dare argue. It was during her third year at university that she fell for someone, truly fell for the first time. Before that, shed gone on the odd date, sometimes sneaking out so her mother wouldnt know, but nothing ever came of it.

Tom was charming, blue-eyed, the perfect English lad, and he swept Emily off her feet. He was in her year, though struggled more with his studies, especially when coursework deadlines loomed. One afternoon, he caught up with Emily in the corridor.

Emily, help me out with this coursework, will you? Im stuck…

Of course, Emily agreed eagerly, thrilled at the chance to spend more time with him.

From then on, Emily often ended up writing his coursework for him, and Tom paid her with affection, letting her love him and basking in her company. Theyd meet up, go for walks, see a film, grab a bite at a café.

Eventually, Margaret grew suspicious.

Emily, youve fallen in love, havent you?

How did you know? Emily asked in surprise.

Its written all over your face Bring him round for dinnerI need to see what species he is, and what hes made of.

So Tom was duly invited to dinner. The parents welcomed him politely, and even Margaret refrained from her usual interrogation. When Tom left, Margaret turned immediately to Emily.

This is not love, Emily. Hes only using you. Hes got no real brains, theres nothing to talk to him about. What on earth did you see in him?

Thats not fair, Mum, Emily retortedfor the first time, she argued back. Toms got ambition, hes well-read, and hes passionate about History. You just steamroller people with your own intellect. Not everyone has to be like you, and besides, hes young.

Emily, hes not right for you, Margaret insisted.

But Emily decided at last to make a stand.

Mum, whatever you say, I still love Tom and Im going to see him.

Margaret was taken aback, waved her hand and muttered, Someday youll realiseTom is thoroughly mediocre.

Despite her mothers warning, Emily stuck by Tom and married him after graduation, convinced that this proved her mother wrong.

As life would have it, the so-called average people often advance far quicker than top students. Tom landed a decent job straight out of uni while Emily went to work under her mothers supervision.

Tom already had his own flat. His parents had bought it for him during his studies, so Emily was glad to finally move out from under her mothers thumb, though her sense of independence was short-lived. Margaret got her a job at the family firm.

One evening, Tom came home and announced, Emily, Ive just been made head of department! Theyre putting me on a three-month trial, but Ill make it work, I know I will.

Sure enough, in three months, he was confirmed in his post. Tom grew uneasy that his wife, with her first-class degree, was still working in her mothers shadow.

Emily, as long as you work under your mum, youll never achieve anything for yourself, Tom would gripe. Are you really going to let her walk all over you your whole life? Shes a nightmare, and youre a pushover.

It hurt to hear such things from Tom, but deep down, Emily knew he was right. Yet over time, Tom stopped criticising and became quieter, almost withdrawn. Oddly, Emily didnt mindhe wasnt badgering her, and that was enough. The important thing was he was still around.

Another year trickled by until one evening, Tom returned home and said quietly, Emily, Ive met someone else. I love her. Im leaving. Shes everything youre not Shes truly alive.

For the first time in her life, Emily lost her composure. She shouted, raged, smashed a plate, hurled Toms mobile at the wall and tore up a couple of his shirts before finally calming down.

Tom watched her silently, then said, So you do have some fire in you. Shame I didnt see it sooner. Then he left.

I hate you, I hate you! she yelled after him, but soon packed her own bag, found a small flat and walked out.

She didnt tell Margaret, knowing full well what sort of I told you so would follow. For over a month, Emily managed to keep her situation under wraps, but Margaret, with her sharp eyes and sharper instincts, eventually caught on.

Emily, whats wrong? You look hollow, as if the lights gone out of you. Trouble with Tom?

Why would you think that? Theres no problembecause theres no husband any more.

Dear, I knew it. Hes left you, hasnt he? When did it happen?

In April, Emily sighed.

And you kept quiet all this time?

So Emily sat through her mothers tiradeinsults at Tom, criticisms of her own choices, the lot.

I warned you! At least you werent his doormat for longand thank goodness you didnt have a child with that man. Promise me next time youll listen to my advice. Do you hear me?

Mum, whatever happens, happens for the best, Emily replied at last. She stood up and added, And Ive had enoughIm done working for you She walked out, leaving Margaret completely baffled.

Emily knew she had to get away from her motherotherwise shed be forced to listen to lectures daily and live a life on a tight leash. She wandered aimlessly, not really knowing where she was headed, and eventually got on a tram to clear her head. As she got off at her stop, she stumbled into a pothole, let out a yelp, and landed awkwardly on her foot.

Of coursejust what I needed, she thought, wincing in pain.

A young man nearby, having just seen the tram pull away, hurried over. Are you all right? he asked, helping her up.

She tried her weight on her ankle; it hurt terribly.

Ouch, she grimaced.

Looks nastyhere, put your arm round my shoulders, he said as he easily lifted her up and carried her to his car. Lets get you to hospital, just in case its broken.

Im Jack, he said as they drove off. Whats your name?

Emily.

At the hospital, it turned out to be just a sprain. The nurse wrapped her foot tightly and gave her advice on what to do next. Jack waited for her throughout and then drove her home.

If you dont mind, could I have your phone number? Just in case you need anything else.

Emily agreed, dictating her number. The next day, Jack rang:

What can I bring you? Im guessing your foot still hurts.

Maybe some juice and fruit? And Im out of bread, Emily replied.

Soon after, the doorbell rang. Emily hobbled over to open it; Jack stood there laden with two bulging shopping bags.

Heavens, thats a lot!

Well, were going to celebrate our meeting! I hope you dont mindI dont want you to worry. I can do the cooking, or everything, actually. And, shall we drop the formalities?

Emily laughedit was easy and comfortable around Jack.

Jack was a natural, setting the table, warming up a pie in the oven, pouring out juice. There was no alcohol; he explained at once he didnt drink. The evening was a real delight.

Four months later, Emily and Jack were married. A year after that, their daughter Daisy was born. When people asked where shed found such a wonderful husband, Emily would laugh:

Oh, he literally picked me up off the street If you dont believe me, just ask him!

If theres one thing Ive learned, its that whatever happens, it really does happen for the bestso long as you find the courage to step onto your own path.