Destiny Favors the Grateful

Fate Favours the Grateful

By the time he turned thirty, Stuart had spent ten years serving in conflict zones, survived two serious injuries, and somehow fate had spared him. After his last wound, he spent months recovering in a military hospital before returning to his quiet village in the English countryside.

The place had changedso had the people. His old schoolmates were all married, settled. Then he saw Lily. He barely recognised her. When hed left for the army, shed been a skinny thirteen-year-old. Now, at twenty-five, she was stunning. Still unmarried. She hadnt met a man worth marryingnot that she was in any rush.

Stuartbroad-shouldered, steadfast, with a soldiers sharp sense of justicecouldnt walk past her.

“Did you wait for me all this time?” he teased, grinning at the beautiful woman before him.

“Maybe,” she murmured, cheeks warming, her pulse quickening despite herself.

They began seeing each other. Late autumn leaves crunched underfoot as they walked along the woodlands edge.

“Stu, my father wont allow this,” Lily confessed one evening, voice heavy. Hed already asked her twice to marry him. “You know what hes like.”

“Whats he going to do?” Stuart squared his shoulders. “If he lays a hand on me, hell end up in prison. Problem solved.”

“Oh, dont talk like that,” she whispered. “You dont understand. Hes ruthlessand he controls everything here.”

William Hartley was the most powerful man in the village. Once a businessman, now rumours swirled about his underworld ties. Barrel-chested, with a cold, arrogant stare, he ruled through fear. He owned two farms, employed half the village, and carried himself like a king.

“Hell never let us marry,” Lily said. “He wants me to wed his friends son from the next town over. Some lout named Victordrinks like a fish, reeks of beer. Ive told Father a hundred times I wont do it.”

“Lily, this isnt the bloody Dark Ages,” Stuart scoffed. “No one can force you.”

He loved herher temper, her quiet strength, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him. And she couldnt imagine life without him.

“Come on,” he said suddenly, gripping her hand and striding forward.

“Where?” But she knew. And she didnt stop him.

William Hartley was in his sprawling estates courtyard, barking orders at his younger brother, Simon, who lived in the guesthouse and did his bidding.

“Mr. Hartley,” Stuart said, voice steady. “Id like to marry your daughter.”

Lilys mother stood frozen on the porch, hand pressed to her mouth, eyes darting between her husband and the soldier. She knew what was coming.

Williams face darkened. He glared, but Stuart held his gaze. The sheer audacity of this nobodythis battle-worn soldiermade his blood boil.

“Get out,” William growled. “My daughters not marrying some scarred-up veteran. Youre nothing. You hear me? Nothing.”

“Well marry anyway,” Stuart said quietly.

The villagers respected Stuart. William had never known waronly money. And the insult burned. Stuarts fists clenched. Simon stepped between them, sensing violence.

As Simon ushered Stuart out, William dragged Lily inside like she was a child. He never tolerated defiance.

That night, flames tore through Stuarts newly opened garage. The autumn air reeked of smoke and petrol.

“Bastard,” Stuart muttered. He knew exactly whod done it.

The next night, he crept to Lilys window. Hed texted her earlierpack your things, were leaving. Shed agreed. She tossed down a bag, then climbed out, landing silently in his arms.

“By sunrise, well be far away,” he whispered. She pressed into him, trembling.

“Its terrifying,” she admitted.

Ten minutes later, they were speeding down the motorway. Lilys breath came fast, her skin prickling with fear and exhilaration. Then headlights flared behind them. A black Mercedes roared past, swerving to block the road.

“No” Lily choked.

William wrenched her from the car. Stuart moved to defend herthen a fist cracked into his jaw. He hit the tarmac hard. Boots pounded into his ribs, silent and brutal. Then they were gone, leaving him bleeding on the roadside.

Somehow, he stumbled home. The garage fire was ruled an accidentfaulty wiring, they said. Stuart knew the truth. But worse was Lilys silence. Her phone was dead. No trace.

William had sent Lily to his sister Margaret in Manchester, handing her a wad of cash with a warning: “Keep her inside. No phone. And if she steps foot back in that village, Ill bury that boy in the woods. Dont test me.”

“William, for Gods sake,” Margaret sighed. “Must you ruin her life?”

She led Lily to a spare room. Best to wait out the storm.

William spread word that Lily was marrying Victor soona big city wedding, no return.

“Your father will calm down eventually,” Margaret said gently. “Youll find work. Build a life.”

“Without Stuart?”

“Without him.”

Weeks later, Lily realised she was pregnant. Margaret held her as she wept.

“Your father cant know.”

Lily screamed into her pillow. She didnt care about Williamshe needed to tell Stuart. But her phone was gone. She didnt even remember his number.

“I hate him,” she sobbed. “Hes not human.” Margaret stayed silent. He wasnt.

Time passed. Stuart couldnt forget her. He worked, drank, then quit drinking. Life was grey.

Meanwhile, Lily gave birth to a boyWilliam, a perfect little copy of his father. Her mother visited secretly, cooing over her grandson. William Hartley remained oblivious.

Four years slipped by. Young Will was bright, curious. One spring day, as flowers bloomed, Lilys mother arrived at Margarets, face ashen.

“Its William,” she whispered. “Hes dying. Cancer. The doctor says its too late.”

She weptnot for the tyrant whod bruised her body and soul, but for the waste of it all.

No one mourned when William Hartley died. The funeral was sparsejust his cronies. Villagers muttered: “Got what he deserved. Treated people like dirt. Karmas a bitch.”

Stuart wasnt there. Hed taken work overseas, in and out of the village like a ghost.

Then, one day, Lily returned home. Her mother had healed, even looked younger without her husbands shadow. Photos of him were gone.

Two weeks later, Lily walked with Will through the fields. He chased butterflies, tumbling in the grass, while she sat on a fallen log, breeze tugging at her hair.

Then

“Lily.”

She spun. Stuart stood there, weathered, sorrow in his eyes. They crashed into each other.

“Stu, Im sorryfor everything,” she gasped. “You dont even knowabout our son.”

Will barrelled into them, giggling. Stuart froze, then lifted the boy high, heart bursting.

“Daddy, will you buy me a football?” Will asked, beaming.

“Right now, lad,” Stuart choked out. “Anything you want.” He looked at Lily, tears in his eyes. “Im never letting you go again.”

Lily smiled through her tears. Fate had brought them backand fate, as they say, favours the grateful.