**Autumn Gust of Fate: An Unexpected Meeting with Eleanor**
For many, autumn is a gloomy season: slate-grey skies, chilly rains, 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 but felt youthful, as though age were just a number she seldom dwelled on.
Eleanor loved meeting friends, sometimes visiting Oliver and Margaret’s cosy home nestled by the forest. There, among the trees, she felt free. She’d lived alone for the past nine years. Her marriage—two decades long—had crumbled when her husband came home one evening and bluntly announced, “I’m leaving. I’ve fallen for someone else. Let’s part ways quietly.”
The news struck like lightning. Fighting tears, Eleanor forced out, “Understood. Go. No drama.” Her voice trembled, but she held firm. He hesitated, disbelieving her composure. “You’re serious? I’m gone for good.”
“Go. I won’t waste tears,” she said, though the moment the door shut, she broke down. Thank heavens her daughter wasn’t home—Eleanor sobbed as if her world had collapsed. Later, she marvelled at how she’d kept her dignity in that moment.
Loneliness came in waves, especially after her daughter married and moved away. But her friends kept her afloat—cafés, walks, concerts. Eleanor learned to cherish her independence.
Three years later, her ex-husband returned unexpectedly. “Forgive me, I was wrong. Let’s start again,” he pleaded. Eleanor only laughed. “I’m perfectly content alone. You can’t step in the same river twice.”
“You’re serious? You’d let me go just like that?” he pressed.
“You’re a stranger now. You left—keep walking,” she said firmly.
“She wasn’t who I thought,” he admitted glumly.
“Life isn’t speed dating. Marriage is different,” Eleanor retorted. She showed him the door, and he never returned. His arrogance—assuming she’d take him back—irritated her, but she’d long moved on. Men at work flirted, but she kept them at arm’s length, preferring friendship.
That September evening, she took her usual detour through the park, savouring the crisp air and rustling leaves. Lost in thought, she barely noticed the car rounding the corner. The driver braked, but the bumper grazed her coat, leaving a smudge. He leapt out, apologising profusely. “I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?” He dabbed at her sleeve.
Irritated at her own carelessness, Eleanor muttered, “It’s fine. Just a muddy coat.”
“Let me drive you home,” he offered. “I’m Edward, by the way.”
“Eleanor. No need—I live just there,” she said, nodding toward her building. She waved him off, and he watched her go, struck by her calm. “Most women would’ve screamed,” he mused.
That night, Eleanor couldn’t shake the encounter. Edward had been unexpectedly charming—mid-fifties, silver-haired, glasses, fit. She even phoned Margaret. “You’ll never believe it. Nearly got run over, and the driver was… rather handsome.”
“Sounds like someone’s smitten,” Margaret teased.
Meanwhile, Edward couldn’t forget her. He’d come back to his parents’ cottage in the Cotswolds after his father’s funeral, a London surgeon now divorced—his wife had left him for a friend. Running into Oliver, an old schoolmate, he’d been invited to a weekend barbecue.
Saturday dawned bright. Eleanor met Margaret for picnic supplies, then drove to the countryside. Oliver manned the grill, Margaret prepped fruit, and laughter filled the air as eight friends gathered.
“Food’s ready!” Oliver called. Just then, his phone rang. Moments later, a dark Range Rover pulled in.
“An old friend,” Margaret explained. “In town for his father’s funeral.”
The door opened. Eleanor’s cheeks flushed. “Margaret—that’s him! The one who almost hit me!”
Oliver clapped the newcomer on the back. “Everyone, meet Edward, my old mate from uni!”
Edward froze when he spotted Eleanor. “Well, this is a twist! I’d been wondering how to find you.”
As Oliver gawped, Edward recounted the mishap, and the group erupted in laughter. “Fate’s hand at work!” Margaret declared.
Edward slid beside Eleanor. “No escaping me now.”
Today, they live in a sprawling house near their friends. Edward sold his London flat and the cottage to build their dream home. He works at the local hospital; Eleanor, nearing retirement, plans a garden bursting with blooms. She often says autumn is her season—born in October, and now gifted Edward, the man who proved destiny has perfect timing.
**Lesson learned:** Life’s storms often clear the path for sunlight. Sometimes, a muddy coat leads to a fresh start.
