Destiny Favours the Grateful: A Tale of Fortune and Gratitude

By the time he turned thirty, Tom had spent ten years serving in conflict zones, been wounded twice, yet fate had spared him. After his second serious injury, a long hospital stay forced him back to his quiet village in the Cotswolds.

The village had changed over the yearsso had the people. All his old schoolmates were married, but one day, he spotted Emily. He barely recognized her. When hed left for the army, shed been a scrawny thirteen-year-old. Now, at twenty-five, she was stunningand still unmarried. She hadnt met anyone worth marrying, and she refused to settle for less.

Tom, broad-shouldered and strong, with a sharp sense of justice, couldnt just walk past her.

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

“Maybe,” she replied, cheeks flushing, her heart suddenly racing.

From then on, they were inseparable. Late autumn leaves crunched underfoot as they walked along the wooded path.

“Tom, my father wont allow us to marry,” Emily said gloomily. Hed already proposed twice. “You know what hes like.”

“Whats he going to do? Im not afraid of him,” Tom said firmly. “If he lays a hand on me, hell end up behind bars. Then he wont be a problem.”

“Tom, dont say such things. You dont understand. Hes ruthless, and he controls everything.”

William Hartford was the most powerful man in the village. Once a legitimate businessman, rumors now swirled about his underworld ties. Barrel-chested with a cold, arrogant stare, he was feared by all. Half the village worked on his farms, raising cattle and pigs. People bowed and scraped before himand he revelled in it.

“Hell never let us marry,” Emily said. “He wants me to wed his friends son from the next town oversome drunken lout named Vincent. Ive told him a hundred times I wont.”

“Emily, this isnt the Middle Ages. Who forces marriages these days?” Tom scoffed.

He loved everything about herfrom her tender gaze to her fiery temper. And she couldnt imagine life without him.

“Come on,” he said suddenly, gripping her hand and quickening his pace.

“Where are we?” She knew, but couldnt stop him.

In the courtyard of the grand estate, William was deep in conversation with his younger brother, Simon, who lived in the guesthouse and did his bidding.

“Mr. Hartford, Emily and I want to marry,” Tom declared. “Im asking for her hand.”

Emilys mother stood on the porch, hand over her mouth, watching her tyrant husband with dread.

Williams face darkened at Toms boldness. He glared, but Tom held his gaze. The older man couldnt fathom where this lad had found such nerve.

“Get out of here,” William snarled. “You think my daughter would marry a broken-down soldier? Forget this place. Youre not welcome.”

“Well marry anyway,” Tom said evenly.

The village respected Tom, but William had never known war. To him, money was everything. Toms fists clenched. Simon stepped between them, sensing neither would back down.

As Simon escorted Tom out, William dragged Emily inside like a naughty child. He never tolerated defiance.

That night, in the damp autumn chill, Toms newly opened garage went up in flames.

“Bastard,” Tom muttered. He knew exactly who was responsible.

The next night, Tom crept to Emilys house. Hed texted her earlierpack your things, were leaving. She agreed without hesitation. From her window, she passed him a bag, then climbed down into his arms.

“By dawn, well be far away,” he whispered. “I love you so much.” She pressed close.

“Im scared,” she admitted.

Ten minutes later, they were speeding down the motorway. Emily trembled with excitement, heart pounding. A new life awaited them. Then headlights flashed behind themher fathers Mercedes roared past, cutting them off.

“No,” Emily gasped, shrinking into her seat.

William wrenched her from the car. Tom tried to intervene but was struck down. They beat him savagely, wordlessly, then drove off, leaving him on the roadside.

Bruised and broken, Tom barely made it home. The garage fire was dismissed as faulty wiring. But all he cared about was Emily. Her phone was dead, her number disconnected.

William had sent her to live with his sister Margaret in Manchester, leaving a hefty sum and a warning:

“Keep her inside. No phone. And if you return to the village,” he hissed, jabbing a finger at Emily, “Ill bury that boy in the woods. Dont test me.”

“William,” Margaret sighed, “must you ruin her life?”

She led Emily to a bedroom. Time would have to soften her brothers rage.

William spread rumors that Emily was marrying Vincent soonnever to return.

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

“Without Tom?”

“Without him.”

Weeks later, Emily discovered she was pregnant. Margaret held her as she cried.

“Your father must never know.”

Emily sobbed. She didnt care about her fathershe needed to tell Tom. But her phone was gone, and she didnt know his number by heart.

“I hate him,” she screamed. “Hes not human!” Margaret stayed silent. Hed broken too many lives.

Tom never forgot Emily. He worked, drank briefly, then stoppednothing eased the ache. Meanwhile, Emily gave birth to a beautiful boy, little James, the spitting image of his father. Her mother visited secretly, doting on her grandson. William never knew.

Four years passed. James grew into a bright, cheeky lad. One spring, as flowers bloomed, Emilys mother arrived at Margarets, her face ashen.

“Williams dying,” she wept. “Cancer. The doctor says its too late.”

She cried, though hed beaten and belittled her for decades.

“How will I manage alone?”

No one mourned William. James soon distracted them, giggling as he played. William died at home, his wife by his side. She almost told him about his grandsonbut stayed silent. Hed wasted his life on cruelty.

Few attended his funeral. Whispers followed:

“Life repaid him in kind. Treated people like dirtnow look.”

Tom was away on a construction job when Emily finally returned to the village. Her mother, free from her husbands shadow, had even grown healthier.

Two weeks later, Emily walked with James along the woods. He chased butterflies while she sat on a fallen log, the breeze soft on her face.

Then

“Emily.”

She spun around. They ran to each other.

Tom was more rugged now, his eyes still sad. Emily was as beautiful as ever. They stood in silence, hearts full.

“Tom, Im sorryfor everything. For my father. For you not knowing about your son.” She gestured to James, who bounded over.

Tom stared, then swept the boy into his arms. “My boy!” he laughed. “Im never letting you go.”

“Daddy, can I have a football?” James asked.

“Right now, lad. Well get you whatever you want.” He smiled at Emily, who nodded through tears.

She was gratefulfor fate, for this second chance. And fate, as they say, rewards the grateful with the greatest gift of all: love that endures.