**Autumn’s Whirlwind of Fate: An Unexpected Encounter for Eleanor**
For many, autumn is a season of gloom—grey skies, chilly rain, and bare trees. But Eleanor adored it, especially late September, when the woodlands blazed with gold and the air carried the scent of fallen leaves. She was fifty, yet she felt as sprightly as ever, as if age were just a number she rarely bothered to tally.
Eleanor loved meeting friends, occasionally visiting Oliver and Marianne’s cosy cottage on the edge of the woods. There, among the trees, she felt free. She’d lived alone for the past nine years. Her marriage, which had lasted two decades, crumbled when her husband came home one evening and announced, blunt as a hammer, “I’m leaving. I’ve fallen for someone else. Let’s part amicably.”
The news struck like lightning. Eleanor, swallowing tears, forced out, “Understood. Go. No fuss.” Her voice wobbled, but she held firm. Her husband, baffled by her composure, hesitated. “You’re serious? I’m leaving for good.”
“Go. Don’t expect me to weep over you,” she snapped—though the moment the door clicked shut, she wept as if the world had ended. Thank goodness her daughter wasn’t home. Later, she’d marvel at how she’d kept her dignity in that moment.
Loneliness lapped at her like waves, especially after her daughter married and moved away. But her friends wouldn’t let her wallow—dragging her to cafés, strolls, concerts. Slowly, Eleanor learned to relish her new life, where she was master of her own domain.
Three years later, her ex-husband returned, sheepish. “I made a mistake. Let’s try again,” he pleaded. Eleanor just laughed. “I’m quite happy as I am. You can’t step in the same river twice.”
“You’re really letting me go that easily?” he sputtered.
“You’re a stranger now. You left—keep walking,” she said coolly.
“She wasn’t who I thought she’d be,” he admitted, crestfallen.
“Life isn’t a dating show. Family’s different,” Eleanor retorted. She showed him the door, and he never returned. It irked her that he’d assumed she’d welcome him back with open arms. But she’d long since moved on. Men at work flirted, asked her out, but she kept them at arm’s length, preferring friendship.
One September evening, she took her usual detour through the park, leaves crunching underfoot, the air crisp. Tomorrow, friends were hosting a picnic to soak up the last warm days. Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the car rounding the corner until it braked sharply, its bumper grazing her coat, leaving a smudge. The driver leapt out, apologising profusely. “So sorry! I honked! Are you alright?” He dabbed at her sleeve like a man possessed.
Annoyed at her own distraction, Eleanor huffed, “It’s fine. Just need to wash the coat.”
“I’m terribly sorry! I’m Daniel. Let me drive you home?”
“Eleanor. No need—I live right there,” she said, nodding at her building. With a wave, she walked off. Daniel watched her go, kicking himself for not finding a clever line. “So composed,” he mused. “Most would’ve given me an earful.”
All evening, Eleanor couldn’t shake the encounter. He’d been unexpectedly charming—fiftyish, salt-and-pepper hair, smart glasses, fit. She even rang Marianne to gush: “Guess what? Nearly got run over, and the driver was… rather dashing.”
“Ooh, Ellie, smitten much?” teased Marianne.
Meanwhile, Daniel couldn’t forget her gaze. He lived alone in his parents’ old cottage, visiting from London after his father’s passing. A surgeon by trade, he’d divorced two years prior—his wife had left him for his best friend. Running into old schoolmate Oliver at the shops, he’d been invited to a picnic.
Saturday morning, Eleanor woke in high spirits. After coffee, she met Marianne at the market for picnic treats, then drove to the countryside. Oliver manned the grill; Marianne sliced fruit. The veranda was perfect for an autumnal feast. Eight friends chattered, swapping stories, laughter bubbling.
“Gather round! Burgers are up!” Oliver called. As everyone settled, his phone buzzed. “Come through, gates are open!” A black SUV rolled in.
“Oliver’s old schoolmate,” Marianne explained. “In town for his dad’s funeral—ran into him by chance.”
Out stepped a man. Eleanor squinted—then froze, cheeks flushing. “Marianne, that’s him! The almost-hit-and-run bloke!” she hissed.
Oliver clapped the newcomer on the back. “Everyone, this is Daniel, my old mate from London. Been years!”
Daniel greeted the group—then spotted Eleanor and grinned. “Well, this is a twist! Spent all night wondering where I’d find you, and here you are!”
Oliver blinked. “You two know each other?”
Daniel recounted the near-miss, and the group erupted in laughter. “Fate’s at work!” Marianne cheered, clapping.
Daniel slid into the seat beside Eleanor. “Not letting you slip away again. Yesterday, I was speechless. Today, I’m seizing my chance.”
Now, Eleanor and Daniel live in a grand house near their friends. Daniel sold his London flat and the cottage to build it. He works at the local hospital; Eleanor’s retiring soon, dreaming of a garden awash with blooms. She still declares autumn her lucky season—she was born in October, and now autumn’s brought her Daniel, the man who turned out to be her destiny.