Fate Would Not Allow Deceit
Everyone has their own destiny. Fate can plunge you into despair so deep you can scarcely breatheor lift you into joy so radiant it takes your breath away.
Emily was still young, with little life experience, yet her fate had already been written. On that frosty morning, she stood by her grandmothers grave as the cold earth swallowed the coffin. Her heart felt hollow, aching with the loss of the only family she had left. Since the age of ten, Emily had been raised by her grandmother, Margaret, after her parents passed away.
A light snow fell, but she barely noticed. The few mourners drifted away from the graveside, leaving only a handful behind. Then her cousin, James, approacheda man shed barely spoken to, who had never visited their grandmother, for his mother had been estranged from her for years.
James leaned in and muttered, cold as the wind:
“You wont be staying in Grandmothers house. Pack your things and leave today. Ive as much right to it as you. And dont even think of arguing.”
He didnt ask for her consent. He simply declared his decision as law. Emily had no strength left to resist. Shed spent the last months caring for Margaret as illness confined her to bed. There was no point in reasoning with Jameshed throw her out regardless. Grief still clouded her mind.
The wake was held in a small café. James didnt even show. Few attended. When Emily returned to the house, she found her bags waiting by the door.
“Check if I missed anything,” James said curtly. “Then go.”
With two suitcases in hand, she stepped outside, unsure where to turn. But then her neighbour, Beatrice, peeked over the garden gate and beckoned her inside.
“Come in, love,” Beatrice said. Emily collapsed onto a chair by the door, tears streaming down her face as grief, anger, and betrayal poured out. Beatrice handed her a glass of water.
“Stay with us for now. Well figure something out. Restthings will seem clearer in the morning.”
Two days later, Emily returned to work at the hospital, where she was a nurse. Shed always been kind and gentle, her bright eyes full of warmth. Now, they were shadowed with sorrow.
Everyone knew about her grandmothers passing. Patients and staff alike adored her. Many remarked on her radiant smile, which seemed to chase away pain.
“Emily, just seeing you makes me forget my aches,” joked George, an elderly patient. “Youve got a healing touch. Ah, if only I were seventeen again”
She smiled faintly at such words. She loved her work and the people she cared for. The head nurse, Eleanor Whitmore, offered her the use of a cottage she ownedthough it was a long bus ride away.
“Its empty most of the year except summer,” Eleanor said. “Youd have to heat it, but its warm enough in winter.”
Emily was about to accept when Dr. Oliver approached. Handsome and confident, hed recently moved from another city to join the hospital. At thirty, he carried himself with assurance, and his offer stunned her.
“Emily, I heard about your situation,” he said. “My grandmother raised me toomy parents divorced young and passed me off to her. I noticed you the moment I arrived here. Your eyes theyre like sunlight in this sterile place.” She blushed as he smiled. “I like you. Id like you to move in with me.”
Emily hesitated. “But what about Dr. Charlotte? Everyone says youre together. Youre not free, and yet youre asking me this?”
Oliver laughed. “Good grief, those rumours again. Dont believe them. Charlotte and I went to medical school togetherof course we talk. Were friends, nothing more. And please, dont call me sir. Im not some old codger.”
Dr. Charlotte, the anaesthetist, was striking and vivacious. Emily admired her poisebut there was something predatory in her gaze.
She couldnt believe someone like Oliver would take an interest in her, let alone invite her to live with him.
“I cant agree so quickly,” she said. “What will people say? And living alone with you it wouldnt be proper.”
“I understand,” he replied. “But my flat is spaciousyoull have your own room. I wont pressure you. I want you to see how I feel in time. Besides, I dont live alone. My grandmother, Rosemary, is with me. Shes kind and gentle. I know shell adore you. Shes been pestering me to bring a girl home.”
Emilys resistance crumbled. She agreed, but with one condition: “Lets tell everyone youve hired me to care for your grandmother.”
Oliver grinned. “Youre brilliant. Of course, well say just that.”
She was relieved. A proper home at lastand a man like Oliver beside her. If he truly cared for her, perhaps her luck had finally turned.
She moved in. The staff believed she was merely a carer. And Rosemary was everything Oliver had promisedwarm and sympathetic. When she heard Emilys story, she wept and embraced her.
“My dear, Im so glad Oliver found you. Life has a way of setting things right. Ive been urging him to settle down for years.”
Time passed. Emily grew close to Rosemary. She and Oliver rarely saw each other due to opposing shifts, but he always greeted her with a smile and an embrace, murmuring how glad he was shed comeand how he hoped theyd grow closer.
One evening, Rosemary broached the subject.
“Forgive an old womans curiosity, dear. But why do you and Oliver sleep apart? Young couples usually share a room straightaway. He says youre his fiancée.”
Emily flushed. “I I do care for him. But I cant rush into that.”
Life was peaceful. She hurried home from work each day, where Rosemary welcomed her like family. They chatted over tea, just as she once had with Margaret.
“Im so happy Oliver chose you,” Rosemary said. “I told him long ago Id leave this flat to himif he married someone worthy. And you, my dear, are exactly what he needs. Kind, gentle, and full of love.”
One afternoon, Oliver invited Emily for a walk and confessed:
“Grandmother is very ill. She has cancer and needs medicationbut she doesnt know. I dont want her to worry prematurely. Sometimes she forgets to take her pills. I need you to ensure she does. She might refuse, insisting shes fine but the diagnosis is certain. If she misses a dose, I dread to think what could happen. I dont know how Id live without her.”
“Of course,” Emily murmured. He pulled her close and kissed heronce, twicebefore she gently pushed him away, mindful of prying eyes.
Something about his words unsettled her. Later, she resolved to speak with Rosemary.
Oliver handed her the medication. She slipped it into her handbag. That night, after dinner, they retired to their rooms. Emily lay awake, puzzled. Rosemary had never mentioned illness. Perhaps Oliver shielded her from the truth.
But Rosemary hid nothing from Emily. She trusted her completely, even admiring her modesty in keeping separate rooms. Shed confided once that Oliver had brought another woman home years agosomeone she disliked.
Yet Emily couldnt shake her unease. As a nurse, she recognised the pillsstrong, for terminal cases. But Rosemary walked unaided, cooked, cleaned, even strolled in the park.
“Rosemary, please rest,” Emily often said. “Ill cook when Im home.”
“Nonsense, dear! You work so hard. Let me help while I can.”
The next evening, Oliver was home when Emily returned. After supper, they dispersed to their rooms. Oliver had an early shift; Emily worked nights. Still troubled, she resolved to check his medical notes.
She crept to his doorajarand froze at his words.
He stood by the window, phone to his ear, laughing darkly.
“Can you believe it, Charlotte? She bought it. Of course she didnaïve little thing. Our plans working. Soon, shell be dosing her daily. Yes, darling, by our wedding day, the old woman will be gone.” A pause. “Dont fret, my love. Im counting the days. And no, Im not temptedwe sleep apart. Shes not my type, and youre all I want.”
Emilys hands trembled. She barely made it back to her room before tears fell.
“So thats his game. And his grandmother, blind to his cruelty, adores him. Hes using me to kill her.”
At dawn, once Oliver left, Emily knocked on Rosemarys door. The older woman was no more ill than any sprightly senior. They talked at length.
That evening, Rosemary confronted Oliver with a stack of banknotesand Emilys recording.
“Take the money and leave. I know what you
