The Guardian Angel: A Tale of Protection and Hope

Dear Diary,

I cant remember my parents at all. My father walked out while my mother was still pregnant, and after that I never heard his name again. Mother died when I was just a year old, a sudden cancer that took her as quickly as a candle in the wind.

Gran Ethel, my mothers mother, took me in. Her husband had died young, so she devoted the rest of her life to her daughter and then to me. From the moment I was placed in her arms there was a deep, almost mystical bond between us. Gran seemed to know exactly what I wanted before I even spoke, and we always understood each other without a word.

Everyone loved Gran neighbours, schoolteachers, even the shopkeeper on the corner. She never gossiped, never spoke ill of anyone, and people often came to her for advice. I felt incredibly lucky to have such a steadfast grandmother.

My own love life, however, never seemed to work out. School, university, a job that kept me running from one task to another there was never a quiet moment. Men came and went, but none felt right. Gran would often chide me, Emily, youre always out with the girls, wheres a decent lad? Youre a beauty and a clever one, too. I laughed it off, but deep down I knew I was approaching thirty and ought to think about settling down.

Then, without warning, Gran was gone. She never woke up; her heart stopped while she slept. I was numb, unable to accept the loss. I went to work, shopped for groceries, moved through the days on autopilot. At home, only Misty, my shy tabby, kept me company. The house felt empty.

One afternoon on the tube, I was lost in a novel when a man in his forties, neatly dressed, sat opposite me. He gave me a lingering glance that somehow made me feel seen. He struck up a conversation about books, a topic I could talk about for hours. Just like in Londons Never a Dull Moment, I thought, smiling at the coincidence. When it was time to get off, I didnt want to leave. His name was David, and he invited me to continue our chat over a coffee at a little café on the South Bank. I agreed gladly.

From that day on, a whirlwind romance spun around us. We called each other every evening, texted constantly, and met whenever our schedules allowed. David was often tied up with work, and he was vague about his past, his family, his job. I didnt mind; for the first time I felt genuinely happy with a man.

One Saturday he asked me to meet him for dinner at a nice restaurant in Covent Garden, hinting that it would be a special night. I realized he was going to propose. My heart swelled; at last I could picture a husband, children, a family like everyone elses. I ached that Gran couldnt see this moment.

That night, I lounged on the sofa, trying to decide what to wear. I prefer shopping online, so I scrolled through a fashion app on my phone, picking out dresses, until I drifted off to sleep.

In the dream, Gran entered the room in her favourite floral dress, perched on the sofa, and gently stroked my hair. Gran, youre not here, how did you get in? I whispered. She smiled, Emily, Ive never gone anywhere. Im always right here, watching, hearing. I need you to know dont get involved with that man, hes no good. Listen to your gran. With those words she faded into the air.

I woke, bewildered, the room quiet. Id just seen Gran, and yet she was gone. Realising it was only a dream, I went back to choosing a dress, but a knot of anxiety settled in my chest. Why would she warn me about David when I barely knew him? The thought haunted me until I fell asleep again.

The day of the proposal approached. I never settled on an outfit; everything slipped from my hands, and Grans warning echoed constantly. Id never believed in prophetic dreams before, but our bond felt too strong to be a coincidence.

Saturday came. I arrived at the restaurant in an old dress, feeling offkilter. David noticed right away. Something on your mind, love? he asked. I forced a smile, No, everythings fine. He tried to lighten the mood with jokes, but I could feel the weight of my thoughts.

At the end of the meal, just like in a film, David dropped to one knee and presented a tiny box with a ring. My head spun, a ringing filled my ears, and I saw Gran standing at a window, watching. I took it as a sign. Im sorry, David, I cant, I began, but the words tangled. What have I done wrong? he demanded. Nothing, I whispered, I just always trusted my gran. I fled the restaurant.

He chased after me, his eyes flashing with anger. What, you dont want to be my wife? Stay home with your cat, you useless old hen! he shouted, then stormed out.

I was left shaking, stunned that the man Id thought was kind, intelligent, loving could turn so cruel. My dreams of a husband, children, a family crumbled.

The next day I went to see my old schoolmate Mark, now a detective with the Metropolitan Police, to ask for help. I asked him to run a background check on David, give him a photo and any details I had.

Mark called later. Emily, Im sorry to tell you this, but David is a swindler. He targets lonely women, marries them, then coerces them into taking out massive loans in his name under the guise of starting a business, before evicting them and disappearing. Hes been convicted before. You got lucky to walk away in time.

My mind reeled. How could Gran have known? It felt like a miracle. Thank you, Gran, for never abandoning me, for shielding me from disaster.

I stopped by the corner shop, bought groceries and cat food for Misty, and walked home with a lighter step, knowing I wasnt truly alone. Grans spirit, I like to think, still watches over me, a guardian angel keeping me from misfortune.

Maybe theres truth to the idea that loved ones become protectors after theyre gone. Id like to believe it, and today I felt that belief deep inside.