Happiness comes to those who believe in it and wait.
In Year 8, during the school Christmas celebrations, Emily sneaked away with Tom. They wanted some time alone, and suddenly, heavy snow began to fall—great white flakes, as if some unseen hand had torn open a feather pillow high above them. The snow kept swirling down.
Tom took Emily’s cold hands and pressed them to his lips, warming them with his breath. They’d been friends since childhood, but now something had changed. They both knew childhood was behind them, though neither could say where it had gone. Still, they had each other, hoping it would last forever.
“God, how long ago that was,” Emily would think later, “and where is Tom now?”
At thirty-two, she had never married. Fate had other plans—or rather, her mother, Margaret, had. If not for her, Emily’s life might have turned out differently.
Emily had been an ordinary girl, running and playing with her closest friends, Tom and Lucy. Tom had carried her school bag since primary school, helped her with maths, protected her from stray dogs and bullies. He lived with a father who drank too much, often throwing him and his mother out of the house. They’d end up staying the night at Emily’s.
Margaret would ask Tom’s mother, “Sandra, why do you put up with this? Leave him—this isn’t living.”
“I stay for my son,” Sandra would say.
“But what kind of example is this for Tom? What will he learn from his father?” Sandra would just shrug.
Sometimes, after these talks, Margaret would say to Emily, “You shouldn’t spend so much time with Tom.”
“Mum, Tom’s the bravest and kindest friend I have!” Emily would argue.
“One day you’ll see. He’ll turn out just like his father—a drunk and a troublemaker. Aren’t there other boys?”
Emily ignored her and ran off to find Tom. He was her truest friend. They’d tested their courage together—swimming in deep water (he always stayed close, knowing she wasn’t confident), standing on steep cliffs, even nearly falling once.
As they grew older, their bond only strengthened. Lucy, their neighbour, often tagged along, the three inseparable. But by secondary school, Lucy developed a crush on Michael from another class, so she drifted a little—though they understood.
In Year 8, just after New Year’s, Emily slipped and broke her leg. The fracture was so severe she spent months in hospital.
Margaret wept. “Sweetheart, how could this happen? You’ll be limping for life.”
Emily was determined to recover, vowing to walk again. Even the doctor told Margaret, “Your daughter’s incredibly strong-willed. She’ll manage.” Soon she took her first steps—first on crutches, then with a cane.
Classmates and even her form tutor visited her in hospital. But no one came as often as Tom, bringing pies, raspberry jam, and the books she loved.
After her discharge, she still limped, her leg aching from time to time. The doctor suggested a change in climate, so Margaret decided to move.
“We’re going to the coast, to stay with my sister Mary—for good. The sea air will help you heal.”
“But Mum, I don’t know anyone there! Here, I’ve got everything.” Margaret wouldn’t listen.
They left for a small seaside town where Mary lived.
Saying goodbye to her friends was painful, especially Tom.
“No matter what, Emily, don’t forget me,” he said, hugging her tightly. Then he kissed her—their first real kiss. “I’ll write to you.”
They settled in with relatives. Emily wrote to Tom and Lucy at once, but neither received the letters. Of course, she never heard back—they didn’t know her new address. Margaret had made sure of it, glad to separate Emily from Tom. Em thought her friends had abandoned her.
At her new school, the girls were cruel. They mocked her limp, calling her “Gimpy.”
She had no friends. She buried herself in books, still thinking of Tom, resenting him for not writing. She tried a few more times—no reply.
After secondary school, she went to university. During exams, Margaret travelled back to their old town alone, perhaps deliberately timing it so Emily couldn’t join.
Eager for news, Emily waited for her return.
“Forget that traitor Tom,” Margaret said as soon as she got back. “He’s married now, with a child. I never liked him.”
Devastated, Emily threw herself into studies, became an English teacher, still walking with a cane. She avoided men, convinced no one would want her.
“I can’t get him out of my heart,” she’d think, melancholy. “Maybe he still thinks of me too.”
Years passed. Her old classmates married—she even attended some weddings. But her eyes had lost their spark, her heart hollow. Men showed interest, but she refused to open up. Maybe she just didn’t believe anymore.
Margaret and Emily bought an old house needing repairs, so Emily put out an ad. A man named Steven, around thirty, responded.
He was skilled—whatever he touched turned out perfectly. Soon, Margaret noticed how he looked at Emily, even with her limp, though she didn’t respond.
“Steven’s got golden hands, he’s handsome, and he likes you. What more do you need? Still hung up on Tom? He’s married—move on.”
Emily finally listened.
“Maybe Mum’s right. Why stay alone?”
They began dating, and he moved in, helping with the house.
“Emily, let’s get married,” he said one day. “Living like this feels temporary.” She believed he loved her.
They filed for marriage. Then one day, a knock at the door—Steven had gone to the shops. A woman and a police officer stood there.
“Are you Emily?”
“Yes. What’s this about?”
The woman, exhausted, handed over a marriage certificate and three birth certificates.
“Read it. It’s all there.”
Steven was married—with three children. The officer was her cousin; they’d been searching for him since he’d abandoned his family.
“He just vanished. Luckily, my cousin’s in the police.”
Emily was stunned.
Steven returned, tried to bolt, but the officer cuffed him. Bored with family life, he’d “lost” his passport and started fresh.
After this, Emily gave up completely. Then Margaret fell ill, frightened.
“I need to confess… Maybe God’s punishing me.”
“What is it, Mum?”
“I arranged with my sister at the post office to stop your letters to Tom and Lucy. I didn’t want you marrying him—not with his father. And I brought you here to separate you. Forgive me.”
Emily froze, heart twisting. She’d never expected this from her own mother.
“And the part about him being married—was that true?”
“I don’t know. When I visited, they’d moved. Sandra left her husband—who knows where.”
“Is Lucy still there?”
“Yes. Divorced, about to remarry.”
Emily wrote to Lucy, including her phone number. Lucy called at once.
“Emily! Finally! You’re back!”
They talked for hours. Then Lucy invited her to her wedding.
“Come. I’ve got a surprise.”
The wedding was lively, packed with old faces—but Tom wasn’t there. Overwhelmed, Emily stepped outside, sitting under a birch tree.
Then a tall man approached. She looked up—and couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Emily,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “Hello.”
His smile warmed her. She buried her face in his chest.
“Tom… Lucy said there’d be a surprise.”
“Me too,” he laughed. “Mum and I live nearby. I always hoped you’d come back. You’re not married?”
“No.”
“Good. Neither am I. I waited for you.”
After the wedding, they visited his mother for her blessing. Margaret was overjoyed to see Emily happy. Their own wedding was quiet—just them and both mothers.
Now they live in love, raising twin boys, fifteen years old. Emily teaches, Tom farms, and the boys help.
She knows happiness comes to those who believe and wait.
