the one we don't see coming

The house was silent, save for the rhythmic sound of knitting needles clicking softly in Miss Dora's lap. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting golden shapes across the floor as she sat near the window, her gaze distant, lost in thought.

Harry was napping. David was at work.

Miss Dora paused mid-stitch and murmured, "You know, Lara… sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing."

Lara, who was gently dusting the wooden table nearby, looked up. "About what, miss?"

Miss Dora sighed, a weariness in her voice that only mothers who've loved and lost can carry. "About all this. Trying to bring someone new into David's life. What if I'm forcing it? What if Maylie's place was never meant to be touched?"

Lara stepped closer, cloth still in hand, her voice soft but steady. "No one can ever take Maylie's place, Miss Dora. That place is sacred. But Harry… he deserves a mother's arms. And David—he deserves peace. Even if it doesn't come as love. Even if it comes slowly."

Miss Dora gave her a sad, knowing smile. "You always speak sense, dear. It's just… a mother's guilt, I suppose. Always second-guessing if you're doing too much or too little."

Later that day, once Harry was up and running around and laughter briefly returned to the corridors, Miss Dora sat with David over tea. Her words were measured, hesitant.

Miss Dora: "David… I was wondering. Would you… like to choose the girl yourself? Maybe someone you could at least feel at ease with."

David's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes dimmed. His voice was quiet. Tired.

David: "I'm not interested, Mom. Please don't ask me again."

She didn't argue. She just nodded and watched her son walk away—like a man carrying a ghost on his back.

But Miss Dora was not one to surrender to silence. That night, when the house had settled and the curtains fluttered softly in the night breeze, she picked up the phone and called in an old favor.

Next Morning – A Knock at the Door

Lara, wiping her hands on her apron, answered the door. Standing on the porch was a poised, well-dressed woman in her mid-40s, with striking confidence in her eyes and elegance in her stride.

"Miss Clay," she smiled, extending her hand. "I believe Miss Dora is expecting me."

Lara blinked in surprise, then smiled back. "Oh! Yes, of course. Please come in—she's in the drawing room."

Miss Clay walked in with calm grace, her eyes absorbing the surroundings with practiced observation. Miss Dora stood up, visibly brightening.

Miss Dora: "Clay, my dear, it's so good to see you after all this time."

Miss Clay: "Oh Dora, too long indeed," she replied, hugging her lightly. "So… what's this secret mission you've summoned me for?"

They shared a small laugh as Lara brought in tea and biscuits, setting the tray between them like a bridge between past and future.

Miss Dora: "It's about David. He… he lost Maylie last year. He's not the same, Clay. I see him fading, retreating. And then there's Harry—just a child, growing up without a mother. I'm terrified I'll fail him."

Miss Clay's smile faded into something softer, more serious. "That's not easy. But I understand."

Miss Dora: "I don't need a princess. I don't want a glamorous girl. I just need someone kind. Gentle. Someone who will love Harry like her own. That's all. That's more than enough."

Miss Clay nodded, her voice quiet. "I'll help you. I'll send profiles, photos, everything I can gather. We'll leave the rest… to fate."

As the afternoon passed and Miss Clay departed, a cautious hope flickered in Miss Dora's chest, fragile but alive.

Weeks Passed

The days trickled by. Still, no word from Miss Clay.

One lazy afternoon, while sipping tea with Lara by the veranda, Miss Dora sighed. "Maybe I asked for too much."

Just then—the doorbell rang.

Lara stood quickly, setting her cup down. She opened the door to find a man in a courier uniform holding a modest brown box.

Courier: "Is this… M.D.'s residence?"

Lara: "M.D.?" she echoed, confused.

Courier (checking his slip): "Oh—Miss Dora. Sorry. I've got a parcel from Miss Clay."

Lara's eyes widened. "Oh! Yes—please, come in."

He handed her the parcel and left. Lara closed the door with trembling fingers and turned to Miss Dora, her face alight.

Lara: "It's here!"

Miss Dora: "Well don't just stand there—open it!"

Inside, wrapped delicately in tissue and ribbon, was a thick envelope. Lara opened it with care. A bundle of photographs spilled out, each with neat bio data handwritten on the back.

Miss Dora (whispering): "Finally…"

After Lunch – The Matchmaking Begins

The room turned into a sea of faces.

Lara (holding a photo): "She's beautiful, but she's a lawyer. You know David—he doesn't like loud, commanding personalities."

Miss Dora: "Next. This one's sweet but too flashy. And this one's too… rigid. Doesn't feel nurturing."

Profile after profile, photo after photo—they tried, they hoped, they hesitated, and eventually sighed.

Lara: "She looks perfect… but too showy. Too polished. I don't feel her warmth."

The pile dwindled.

Until—

Lara paused.

Halfway down, she held a photograph in silence, her fingers frozen.

Lara (softly): "This one…"

She passed it to Miss Dora.

The photo showed a young woman in a simple pastel kurta, standing in a sunlit garden with a book in hand. Her eyes were soft brown, thoughtful. Her smile—quiet, calm, but soulfully present.

Lara (reading the back): "Name: Kay. Age 27. Intermediate education. Teaches at a primary school. Lost her parents early. Loves children. Volunteers at an orphanage every Sunday."

Miss Dora stared at the picture, her eyes misting.

Lara: "She's not the most qualified… but doesn't she feel right?"

Miss Dora laid the photo aside, separate from the rest.

Miss Dora: "Sometimes the best things in life can't be measured by degrees or achievements. Sometimes, it's just the way someone's eyes look at the world."

The room fell still.

They looked at the photo again. Not a princess. Not a savior. Just… warmth.

Miss Dora (whispering): "Let's keep her aside. She's different. Maybe… just maybe… she's the one we weren't even looking for."