A Twist of Fate
Elizabeth came home early from a long business trip, her heart racing with excitement. “Paul will be so happy to see me back sooner than expected!” she thought, hurrying down the platform at Manchester Station. Unlocking the front door with her key, she called out with a smile:
“Darling, I’m home!”
But her joy shattered like a dropped vase. From the bathroom stepped a stranger in a dark blue dressing gown, calmly drying his hands with a towel.
“Who are you?” Her voice trembled as her bag nearly slipped from her grip.
“I’m Daniel,” the man said calmly. “And you must be Liz, Paul’s wife?”
“Yes,” she forced out, feeling her blood run cold. “What are you doing in my flat?”
“Paul didn’t tell you?” A flicker of regret crossed his face.
“Tell me what?” Elizabeth stared, struggling to process the scene.
Just the day before, everything had seemed normal. She’d curled up next to Paul on the sofa while he watched football on the telly.
“Paul, could you help me pack?” she’d asked softly.
“Not now, Liz,” he muttered, eyes glued to the screen. “You’re leaving tomorrow, not today. Just grab me some crisps from the kitchen, yeah?”
She sighed but obediently fetched the crisps, grabbing a glass of cold lemonade for herself. Handing him the packet, she watched fondly as he crunched away, never looking up. The thought of being apart for four months ached in her chest. Her job, with its endless trips across the UK, was her passion—but leaving Paul behind always left her heartsick.
“Will you miss me?” she whispered, leaning into him.
“Course I will, love,” he said, pecking her temple absentmindedly.
“Wish we didn’t have to be apart so long,” she murmured. “If only we had kids…”
“Liz, not this again,” Paul said sharply, pulling away. “We’ve talked about this.”
“I know it’s too soon,” she sighed. “But can’t I dream?”
Their marriage had been nearly perfect—except for Paul’s refusal to even discuss children. Two years in, he still insisted, “It’s too early, let’s live for ourselves.” She’d waited patiently, never pushing.
The next day, she left for her trip. Missing Paul tore at her, and she even considered quitting to stay closer to home. But her project consumed her. Her team finished in three months instead of four—bonus secured, praise from the boss, and an early trip back. On the train, she imagined Paul’s embrace when he saw her. Reality, though, was cruel.
Elizabeth burst into the flat, eager for their reunion—only to find a stranger instead.
“You didn’t know?” Daniel frowned. “Paul rented the place to me and left. Paid a year upfront. Said you’d collect your things later.”
“My things?” Her voice shook with fury. “This is *my* home! What d’you mean, a year’s rent? Where’s Paul? Is this a joke? I’m calling the police!”
She dialled Paul’s number—no answer. Flinging her phone onto the shelf, she gripped her head, trying to make sense of it. After a long sip of water, she hissed,
“How could Paul rent *my* flat? It’s *mine*—not his!”
Silently, Daniel handed her a folder. The lease, signatures—it all looked legal. But how? The flat was in *her* name.
“Your husband had power of attorney,” Daniel said. “It’s binding. Whatever’s between you two—that’s not my business.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Had Paul forged documents? Betrayed her? She sank onto a chair, numb.
“Look, I’ve nowhere else to go,” Daniel said. “I’ve paid. Either refund me, or I stay.”
She didn’t have that kind of money. Until she proved the lease fraudulent, she’d have to share her home with a stranger. Gritting her teeth, she told Daniel she’d stay in the bedroom. He took the sofa.
That night, she stared at the ceiling, wondering how Paul could do this. At dawn, she rushed to a lawyer—her best mate’s brother—who promised to help. Returning hours later, exhausted and starving, she froze at the kitchen door. The smell of roasted meat filled the air.
“Fancy some herb-roasted chicken?” Daniel asked, pulling the dish from the oven.
She swallowed hard but muttered, “Not hungry.”
“Come on,” he grinned. “I won’t eat it all myself. Waste not, yeah?”
Reluctantly, she sat. Over lunch, Daniel shared his story—his small business ruined by a betraying friend, starting fresh in Manchester. His honesty and dry wit coaxed a smile from her.
As legal battles dragged on, they spent evenings together. She was surprised by how much they had in common—hiking, history. One night, her phone rang. Her face darkened as she spoke. After hanging up, she fled to the bedroom, stifling sobs. Daniel knocked.
“Liz, what’s wrong?”
“Paul,” she choked. “They found him.”
“That’s good—now he’ll pay for what he did.”
“He wasn’t alone,” she whispered. “He ran off with some girl—Amber, from the café near his work. Took your money, too.”
Daniel stepped closer, hesitantly hugging her. Needing the comfort, she leaned in—then pulled back, startled by her own reaction.
“And that’s not all,” she said over tea. “Paul’s mixed up in fraud.”
“Maybe this is a blessing,” Daniel said softly. “Now you know the truth. You can start again.”
His words—his care—warmed her wounded heart.
Two weeks later, she walked into the living room to find Daniel’s packed suitcases.
“Where are you going?” Her voice wavered.
“My mate offered me a place,” he said. “Didn’t want to overstay. Don’t worry about the money.”
She froze. “You’d rather stay with him… than me?”
“I thought you’d want me gone,” he admitted. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”
“You’re not in the way,” she whispered, stepping closer. “I… like having you here. Stay.”
He smiled—and then their lips met in a hesitant but heartfelt kiss. Elizabeth realised this twist of fate might just be the start of something new… and real.