A Twist of Fate
Sophie returned home from a long business trip, her heart racing with excitement. “James will be so thrilled to see me back early!” she thought, hurrying down the platform at Manchester Piccadilly 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. A stranger in a navy-blue robe stepped out of the bathroom, calmly drying his hands with a towel.
“Who are you?” Sophie’s voice trembled, her bag nearly slipping from her grip.
“I’m Liam,” the man replied calmly. “And you must be Sophie, James’s wife?”
“Yes,” she forced out, her blood running cold. “What are you doing in my flat?”
“James didn’t tell you?” A hint of regret flickered in his tone.
“Tell me what?” Sophie stared, struggling to make sense of the situation.
Just yesterday, everything had seemed so normal. Sophie had been curled up on the sofa, leaning against her husband’s shoulder while he watched football on the telly.
“Jamie, can you help me pack?” she’d asked softly.
James, eyes glued to the screen, snapped, “Later, Soph. You’re leaving tomorrow, not today. Grab me some crisps from the kitchen, yeah?”
Sophie sighed but obediently fetched the crisps, grabbing a glass of lemonade for herself. Handing him the bag, she watched fondly as he munched away, still absorbed in the game. The thought of being apart for four months squeezed her heart. Her job, with its endless trips across the UK, was her passion—but each departure left her aching for the husband she left behind.
“Jamie, will you miss me?” she whispered, nestling closer.
“Course I will, love,” he replied, kissing her temple absently.
“I hate leaving you for so long,” her voice quivered. “It’d be different if we had kids…”
“Soph, not this again,” James pulled away sharply. “We’ve talked about it loads.”
“I know, I know,” she sighed. “But can’t I dream a little?”
Their marriage had seemed nearly perfect—except for one shadow: James’s refusal to even discuss children. Two years of marriage, two years of his stubborn “It’s too soon, let’s live for ourselves.” She’d waited patiently, never pushing, hoping he’d change his mind.
The next day, Sophie left for her trip. Thoughts of James haunted her, the distance tearing at her heart. She even considered quitting to stay closer to home. But the project she’d been entrusted with consumed her. Her team finished three months early, earning her a bonus, praise from her boss, and the chance to return home sooner. On the train, she’d closed her eyes, imagining James’s embrace when he saw her—but reality was cruel.
Sophie burst into the flat, eager for their reunion, only to find a stranger instead. Liam looked at her with mild surprise.
“Who *are* you?” she repeated, the floor swaying beneath her.
“I’m Liam,” he said again. “James let me the flat. Paid upfront for a year. Said you’d collect your things later.”
“My *things*?” Her voice cracked with rage and despair. “This is my home! What d’you mean a *year*? Where’s James? Is this some sick joke? I’m calling the police!”
She dialled James’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. Furious, she slammed her phone onto the shelf, gripping her head to steady herself. After a few deep breaths, she hissed,
“How could James let you my flat? He has no right! It’s *mine*!”
Liam silently pulled out a folder, handing her the paperwork. With shaking hands, Sophie skimmed the tenancy agreement—signatures, dates, all seemingly legal. But how? The flat was in *her* name, not his!
“Your husband showed a power of attorney,” Liam explained. “All above board. Whatever’s going on between you two… not my business.”
Tears pricked her eyes. Had James forged documents? Betrayed her? She sank onto a chair, gutted.
“Look, I’ve nowhere else to go,” Liam said. “I’ve paid. Either refund me, or I stay.”
Sophie knew she couldn’t repay him. She’d have to share her home with a stranger until she proved the contract void. Gritting her teeth, she agreed, retreating to the bedroom while Liam took the sofa.
Sleep never came. Staring at the ceiling, Sophie wondered how James could do this. By morning, she rushed to a solicitor—a friend’s brother—who promised to help. Returning hours later, exhausted and hungry, she paused at the kitchen doorway. The scent of roast chicken filled the air.
“Sophie, fancy some herb chicken?” Liam asked, pulling the dish from the oven.
Her stomach betrayed her, but she muttered, “No, thanks.”
“Come on,” he smirked. “I’ll never finish this alone.”
Reluctantly, she sat. Over lunch, Liam shared how he’d lost his business after a friend’s betrayal, moving to Manchester for a fresh start. His honesty and dry humour coaxed a smile from her.
As legal battles dragged on, their evenings grew companionable. She was surprised by their shared love for hiking and history. Then, one evening, her phone rang. Sophie’s face darkened as she spoke. Hanging up, she fled to her room, stifling sobs. Liam knocked.
“Sophie, what’s wrong?”
“James,” she choked out. “They found him.”
“Good. Now he’ll face what he’s done.”
“He wasn’t alone.” Her voice broke. “He’s with some girl—Emily, from the café downstairs. They ran off with your money.”
Liam stepped closer, tentatively embracing her. Sophie melted into him before jerking away, startled by her own reaction.
“There’s more,” she whispered over tea. “James is mixed up in fraud.”
“Everything happens for a reason,” Liam said softly. “Now you know the truth. You can start anew.”
His words, his kindness—it soothed her shattered heart.
Two weeks later, she stepped into the lounge to find Liam’s packed bags. He emerged from the bathroom, jacket on.
“Liam, where are you going?”
“A mate offered me a place. Didn’t want to overstay.” He shrugged. “Keep the rent. It’s fine.”
She froze. Then, barely audible: “What if I want you to stay?”
“I thought you’d want space,” he frowned.
“You’re not in the way,” she stepped closer. “I… like having you here. Please don’t go.”
Liam smiled. The next second, their lips met in a hesitant, tender kiss. Sophie realised—this twist of fate might just be the beginning of something real.
