.jpg "English Short Stories")
I consider myself lucky to have been born into a family where wealth flowed like water. I had never seen hard days. Whatever I wished for, I received; whatever I desired, my father fulfilled. My father, Mr. Harris, was a well-known businessman. Being the only daughter among three brothers, I was deeply cherished—perhaps even spoiled. Father often favored me over my brothers.
Time passed. I moved from school to college, and finally, to university. I kept to myself there—partly because of my pride in my family’s status, partly because I was conscious of my beauty. I rarely made friends, and, truth be told, I hardly gave anyone the time of day. For almost a year, I drifted through university like a lone traveler—until I met someone.
His name was Adam. He was strikingly handsome—so much so that a person could forget themselves for a moment just looking at him. He came from a wealthy family, too. I noticed he often glanced in my direction, but I pretended not to care, even though deep inside, I wished he would speak to me. He seemed to want the same, but perhaps shyness held him back.
Whenever my eyes met his, my heart grew restless. Something about him drew me in, and I found myself silently wishing he could be mine. One day after class, my ride didn’t show up. After a long wait, I heard a car horn. I turned—and there was Adam, motioning me over. My feet moved toward him almost involuntarily, and I slipped into his car.
On the way, he asked, “Should I drop you home or grab a coffee first?” I replied, almost sharply, “Take me home. Nowhere else.” When we reached my house, he smiled and said, “Alright then, Emma… goodbye.”
I froze. Emma? How did he know my name? And my address? The next day, I asked him, and he answered with ease, “When you care about someone, finding out their name and where they live isn’t difficult.”
In the simplest words, he had confessed his feelings. Before I could even process it, he asked, “Would you marry me?” I was stunned by his straightforwardness but secretly happy that he had spoken what was in his heart. Oddly, I didn’t give him an answer that day.
Soon, meeting at the campus café became a silent routine. We would sip tea without saying a word, yet the silence itself became our language. Our bond deepened. He began giving me gifts, and I returned the gesture with flowers, fragrances, and little tokens. Words became unnecessary; we understood each other without them.
Then one day, Adam’s family came to my house with a marriage proposal. Coincidentally, they were acquaintances of my father. I was certain my father would never refuse—after all, I was his only daughter and Adam’s father was his old friend. But when I woke up from a nap that evening, I noticed the tense atmosphere. My grandmother told me quietly, “Your father has refused.”
It felt like lightning had struck me. I couldn’t believe it. My father came in and, in an angry tone, said, “I spoiled you, and this is how you repay me—by picking your own husband? Do you know what they’ll think of me? From now on, you won’t be going to university. I’ve arranged your marriage to your cousin.”
I was devastated—not just by the refusal, but by the fact that my father, who had always been open-minded and loving, had denied me the right to choose.
The next day at university, I told Adam what had happened. To my shock, he simply smiled and said, “Congratulations.” His casual attitude cut deeper than my father’s anger. I realized then how easily men could move on.
My wedding day arrived all too soon. My cousin’s name, coincidentally, was also Adam. I told myself that marrying him would at least spite the Adam who had betrayed me.
That night, sitting on the flower-covered bed, my heart was heavy. I hadn’t even seen my groom’s face before the wedding—he had been living abroad in Dubai all his life. When the door opened and he lifted my veil, my breath caught.
It was him. My Adam from university.
Laughing at my shock, he explained: “I came back from Dubai a year ago. When I met you, I didn’t know at first that you were my aunt’s daughter. Later, when I found out, I thought I’d surprise you. My parents and yours agreed to the proposal, but no one told you. I wanted it to be a gift.”
I cried, then laughed, then cried again. Fate had played its hand perfectly. Ten days after the proposal, we were married.
Today, we have two beautiful children and a happy life. Sometimes Adam teases me, “If I weren’t the same Adam, what would you have done?” And I always smile, knowing that luck—no, destiny—had been on my side all along.
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