I've lived on this earth for many years, and I have to say—true happiness is simple. It's the same as it had been for our ancestors: land, nature, and animals.

Hard work, fresh air, and the satisfaction of seeing something grow with your own hands.

You might think I'm saying this just because I own a farm, because I have a stake in making people believe in this kind of life.

Maybe there is some truth in that. But believe me, nothing in the world compares to spending a long day planting seedlings.

And then sitting on the porch in the evening with a cup of homemade herbal tea, knowing that in time, my work would bear fruit.

However, my farm is not my only happiness, nor is it my greatest pride. That honor belongs to my granddaughter, Emilia.

She'd been left in my care when she was just three years old, a tiny thing with big, curious eyes and soft curls that bounced when she ran.

Her parents, my own daughter and her husband, had dreams too big for a child.

They wanted adventure, careers, travel. A little girl didn’t fit into their plans. So they left her with me and never looked back.

But I did. I was there for her first steps, her first day of school, her first love. She was my world, the heart of my home.

And then there was George. Emilia’s boyfriend—excuse me, fiancé. The boy had been around for years, ever since he and Emilia were fourteen.

They were childhood sweethearts, inseparable, always walking through the fields together, whispering about their dreams and plans.

By the time they turned twenty, George proposed. I couldn’t have been happier.

The night of the engagement, both families gathered. We toasted to their future, talked about the wedding, even discussed the possibility of merging our farms one day. It all seemed perfect.

But then, things began to change. At first, it was small—a shift in the air. Then, I started hearing noises late at night.

I even thought about installing an alarm system. Imagine that—an old woman like me suddenly worried about intruders in a house that had always been safe.

Then, one night, I couldn’t sleep. The air felt heavy, pressing down on me. I decided a warm cup of milk might help.

As I tiptoed back to my room, mug in hand, I heard it again—the front door opening and shutting, ever so softly.

Frowning, I stopped at the railing on the second floor and peeked down. Then I saw her. Emilia.

She moved quietly, careful with each step, glancing around as if making sure no one saw her. My heart tightened. What was she up to?

I barely breathed as I stepped back into my room before she could notice me.

Whatever it was, my sweet granddaughter was hiding something. And I was going to find out what.

The next morning, I sat at the kitchen table, watching Emilia stir sugar into her tea. The steam curled around her face, but she avoided my eyes.

"Emilia, is there something you want to tell me?" I asked, keeping my voice calm.

She lifted her cup and took a slow sip. "No, Grandma."

I leaned back in my chair. "Hmm. We must have mice in the house. I keep hearing noises at night."

"Mice?" she said, forcing a laugh. "That’s bad. They’ll chew through everything." Emilia said, playing with her hair—the first sign that she was lying.

I folded my hands in my lap. "Yes. And for some reason, the doors open and close on their own. Strange, don’t you think?"

"Maybe it’s the wind? The windows are old. You always say they need fixing," she said, scratching her nose—the second sign.

"Well, alright, Grandma. I need to get to work," Emilia said, standing too fast. Her chair scraped against the floor. "Lots to do today." Before I could say another word, she hurried outside.

That afternoon, we worked in the field. Emilia moved quickly, her hands working the soil. I watched her closely.

"Emilia, how are things with George?" I asked, tossing seeds into a row.

"Fine," she said, eyes on the ground.

"Just fine?" I pressed.

She wiped her forehead. "Everything's great, Grandma."

I shook my head. "Have you set a wedding date?"

Her body tensed. "Not yet!" Her voice rose. "Why do you keep asking?!"

I raised a brow. "It’s normal to ask. You’re engaged."

She turned away. "I’m going to the garden," she muttered. Then she left.

Why did she react like that? I didn't ask anything unusual. Her voice had been sharp, her movements quick, as if she wanted to escape. That wasn’t like her at all. I couldn’t ignore it.

That night, I made up my mind. I wouldn’t sleep until I knew the truth. I sat in my chair, listening to the quiet house, waiting for any sound. Then, at last, the soft creak of the front door.

I moved fast, stepping onto the porch just in time to see Emilia hurrying toward the stable. My heart pounded as I followed her, careful to stay in the shadows.

Inside, hushed voices reached my ears. Emilia’s and a man’s. I crept closer, holding my breath.

Then I saw them. My granddaughter was standing close to David, our stable hand. Their hands touched, and then—he kissed her.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" My voice echoed through the stable, making the horses stir in their stalls.

Emilia and David sprang apart. She clutched her chest, her face pale. David stepped back, his hands raised as if caught stealing.

"Grandma?!" Emilia gasped. She ran a shaky hand through her hair, trying to smooth it down. "What are you doing here?!"

I took a step forward, my eyes fixed on her. "What am I doing here?!" I repeated, my voice shaking with anger.

"I should be asking you that! My granddaughter sneaks off every night, and I come to find her betraying her fiancé with this… this…" My hands trembled as I pointed at David.

"His name is David!" Emilia shouted. Her chin lifted, her eyes defiant. "And I love him!"

My breath caught. "And what about George?" I asked.

Her lips pressed into a tight line. "I’ve been with George since I was fourteen," she said. "I was a kid! How can anyone expect me to still want the same thing?!"

"Emilia!" My voice rose. "How can you say that? He is your fiancé!"

"So what?!" she snapped. "Does that mean I have no choice? Am I not allowed to make mistakes?!"

"You are allowed," I said. "And you are making a mistake right now! But don’t worry, Grandma will help." I turned to David. "You’re fired!"

"What?!" Emilia’s eyes widened. She stepped in front of him, as if she could shield him from my words.

"Yes," I said, my voice firm. "No more distractions. You will focus on your fiancé."

"Margaret, please," David said, his voice steady but desperate. "I love Emilia. I never meant to hurt anyone."

I shot him a glare. "No one asked you!" Then I turned back to Emilia. "Come. Now."

"I won’t see David again," Emilia said, her voice breaking. "Just please don’t fire him."

"How will you prove that?" I asked.

She swallowed hard. "We’ll get married next week. George and I."

I folded my arms. "Fine. David, you can stay. But if I see you near her again, you’re gone."

David turned to Emilia, his hand reaching for hers. "Emilia…" he whispered.

Her fingers trembled as they brushed against his. I saw the pain in her eyes. My heart clenched, but I knew I was doing the right thing.

"Goodbye, David," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

As we walked out of the stable, I wanted to reach for her, to pat her back, to comfort her somehow. But she pulled away and walked ahead.

The wedding preparations moved fast. Too fast. There was no excitement, no laughter. Only planning, rushing, and silence.

Emilia drifted through the house like a shadow. She followed instructions, nodded when spoken to, but the light in her eyes was gone.

One evening, I saw her riding her horse in the pasture. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. I walked toward her.

"David is off today. Don’t worry," she said before I could speak.

"I know," I said. I watched her hands tighten around the reins. "I want us to be close again."

She turned her head slightly but didn’t look at me. "You ruined my life," she said.

I sighed. "You love George. You’re just confused."

She let out a bitter laugh. "I loved George. But not anymore."

"Then why didn’t you break up with him? Why did you accept his proposal?"

She turned to me, her face full of anger. "Because of you! Because of George’s parents! You all pushed us into this! I was scared to say no!"

I shook my head. "I married your grandfather without loving him. But he was my best friend. I had a good life."

"But I don’t want that!" she cried. "I want love! Real love! And that person is David!"

"Emilia…" I whispered.

Her eyes searched mine. "Can you understand me?" she asked, her voice raw.

I hesitated. "I can try," I said. "What do you want me to do?"

She swallowed hard. "Just stay out of my way."

Then she slid off her horse and led it back to the stable, leaving me standing alone in the fading light.

After that conversation, Emilia seemed happier. She smiled more, worked with energy, and even hummed while she helped prepare the wedding decorations.

But I knew better. It wasn’t joy. It was a relief. She had made peace with something, but I didn’t know what.

The morning of the wedding arrived. The sun was barely up when I knocked on Emilia’s door.

No answer. I pushed it open, expecting to find her getting ready. But the room was empty.

The bed was neatly made, the wedding dress still hanging by the window. Then I saw it—a folded letter on the pillow with ‘Grandma’ written on the front. My hands shook as I picked it up and opened it.

Dear Grandma, thank you for all the years you raised and loved me. But I can’t give you what you want.

I can’t marry George when my heart belongs to someone else. David and I are leaving.

I won’t tell you where yet, but when I’m ready, I will write. Just know that we are happy. I love you. Your granddaughter, Emilia.

I sank onto the bed, pressing the letter to my chest. The room felt too quiet, too still. My sweet girl was gone.

If I hadn’t gone to the stable that night, maybe she would still be here. Maybe she would have stayed.

My heart ached, knowing I had driven her away. But all I could do now was wait. Wait for the day she would write. Wait for the chance to still be part of her life.

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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I thought my family was perfect until one unexpected encounter shattered that belief. A stranger at the playground and a bracelet with a missing half led me to uncover the terrible secret my wife had been hiding. The truth was more shocking than I ever imagined, and it changed everything. Read the full story here.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only.