**A Twist of Fate and Two Betrayals**
It had been a week since Mary’s fiancé, William, had gone silent, and their wedding was less than a month away.
*Why isn’t he answering his phone?* Mary wondered anxiously. *What if he’s ill or something’s happened? I’ll go to his village, stop by the shop—maybe buy some honey in case it’s a cold.*
Mary worked in the city but spent weekends at William’s place. Usually, they lazed about the house, dreaming of their future. Now, stepping off the bus, she headed toward his home. The sound of music from a half-open window made her pause. A sickening dread twisted in her chest, her mouth dry, legs unsteady.
*Who’s laughing like that?* She froze at the sound of a woman’s giggle and William’s playful tone.
Jealousy and suspicion clenched her gut. Her first instinct was to run, but she forced herself forward.
*I need to see for myself. Maybe I’m overreacting.* She pushed the door open.
Inside, a dark-haired woman lounged on the sofa in *her* robe and slippers, leaning into William. He whispered something, and she burst into laughter before he playfully pinned her down. Mary stood rigid, heart pounding.
“So *this* is why you’ve been ignoring my calls,” she said flatly. “We’re getting *married* in weeks.”
William and the girl jumped. He scrambled up while the woman smirked. He strode toward Mary.
“Why are you here? I wasn’t expecting you. Are you *stalking* me?”
The brunette giggled, eyeing Mary with amusement. “This is who you’re marrying, Will? She’s plain as porridge—skinny, pale. Couldn’t you do better? Marry *me* instead.” She flung the robe open.
Mary bolted. Behind her, William might’ve shouted, but she heard nothing. Her world had shattered.
*I don’t want to live. How could he?* Her head throbbed as if splitting apart.
Blind with tears, she stumbled onto the road. Cars honked; drivers swore, some even flipping her off. One yelled she was mad. She didn’t care. Her life, her love, her future—gone.
Meanwhile, on a rickety bus from town, ex-soldier James was heading home after two long years in service. The familiar route brought back memories—trips with his dad in their beat-up Ford, selling potatoes at the market.
“Drop me here,” he told the driver. “Fancy a walk.”
Stepping onto the quiet lane, he smiled, pictly wife.”
James never saw her again. Weeks later, Mary and he sat in the garden of his parents’ cottage, his hand in hers.
*Funny,* he mused. *Two betrayals led us here. But I’d endure it all again for her.*
**Lesson learned: Sometimes the deepest wounds carve the path to the truest love.**