**Diary Entry – 13th June**
Losing my job because of that scheming flatterer felt like the end—until fate handed me the greatest gift of all: love.
It began with something small, almost trivial, but it ended up changing everything. I worked in logistics for a big London firm, and though Alannah and I weren’t close colleagues, she always seemed to be nearby. Something about her felt off from the start—too many “accidental” run-ins by the kettle, forced laughter, relentless small talk. At first, I thought she was just overly friendly. Then I realised: she had an agenda. I kept my distance, polite but firm. Until the day she cornered me by the coffee machine and kissed my cheek. “For luck,” she whispered, locking eyes. It made my skin crawl. Instinctively, I pushed her away—harshly—and she staggered. She never forgave me.
The next day, the whispers started. The sideways glances. Then, the summons to the boss’s office. No explanations, no defence—just a swift dismissal. “Violation of workplace conduct,” they said. “Inappropriate behaviour towards a colleague.” *My* reputation was shredded. No one in the industry would touch me after that. It wasn’t just a setup—it was betrayal.
But I refused to drown in self-pity. One evening, on the balcony of my rented flat in Manchester, I scribbled a list of things I’d always wanted to do. Near the bottom: *Learn to dance.* Why salsa and bachata? No idea. But suddenly, there was no reason not to.
The dance school was a gamble, but from the first lesson, I knew I’d made the right choice. And then there was *her*. Evelyn—our instructor. Not conventionally stunning, but magnetic. Warm, but never cloying. I fell hard and fast, stupidly, like some schoolboy. Yet when she asked me for coffee after class one night, I couldn’t speak.
We talked for hours. Then came the rest—love, laughter, plans. Evelyn admitted she’d felt it too, that same pull. Now, we’re together. We’re opening a dance studio. And we’re expecting our first child.
Funny, isn’t it? Fate had to burn my old life to the ground just so I could stumble into this one. Without Alannah’s poison kiss, without that bloody unfair sacking—I’d never have danced. Never have found her. Never have become *this* version of myself.
Sometimes, the worst things carve out the best paths.
