A Dream Come True: My Life Turned into a Fairy Tale… After a Broken Tooth!
It all started with an ordinary, unremarkable pothole. On that gloomy autumn evening, I was heading home on a bus through the streets of London—grey, dreary, and soaked in icy rain. The sky seemed to weep over us, tired and drenched. The bus I’d hoped for was late, so I jumped into the first one that came along. I found a quiet spot by the window, just wishing to get home in peace.
But of course, right under my seat, the bus slammed into that pothole, hidden beneath a puddle. The jolt was so sharp I bit my own tongue—and the next second, I felt a shard in my mouth. One of my front teeth had cracked, and the throbbing pain spread through my whole head.
Clenching my jaw in frustration, I hailed a taxi and headed to an emergency dentist. Half an hour later, I sat in the waiting room. Little did I know, that seemingly absurd incident would mark the start of a new chapter.
“Good evening, come in,” a warm voice called.
It was Dr. Eleanor—a tall woman in a bright yellow coat, with a soft, almost motherly smile. When I saw the syringe in her hand, panic gripped me, but her calm confidence made me relax. Even the anaesthetic barely stung.
The tooth couldn’t be saved, and I’d need a few more visits for a crown. But by the second appointment, I found myself looking forward to them. Ellie and I chatted about books, films, life. Turns out, like me, she adored science fiction. After the third visit, I invited her for tea—to watch old trailers and flip through my favourite novels.
That’s how our friendship began. Real, genuine, rare. Ellie was entirely alone—no family, no relatives. She’d grown up in foster care and spent years in a tiny but cosy flat. I was the opposite: a big, loud, close-knit family. Parents, a sister, a brother—we stuck together. Ellie slipped into our circle like she’d always belonged. Mum adored her instantly, my sister sought her advice on school, and my brother was thrilled—she helped him find tutors, and within a year, he’d finished two business courses.
One day, Ellie told me:
“You were born for woodcarving. Stop dreaming—just do it.”
And she found me a tutor! I threw myself into it. It felt like Ellie hadn’t just fixed my tooth—she’d given me a new purpose. I could breathe freely again.
Then one day, her clinic was closed…
Her phone was silent. I went to her place. She opened the door in her coat, eyes red, clutching an old photo—a little Ellie and a middle-aged woman.
“Is that your mum?” I asked.
“No,” she whispered. “That’s Maggie. My foster mother. She was like family. And… she’s gone.”
Ellie wept as she told me how Maggie had loved her like her own. We talked until two in the morning. A week later, Ellie invited us all for dinner and said:
“I have something to propose.”
And that’s when the real fairy tale began. Maggie had moved abroad years ago, working as a nanny. There, she’d won a fortune in the lottery—and left it all to Ellie.
We were stunned. Ellie simply added:
“We’ve dreamed so much together… Time to make it real.”
We sat down, dug out old notes where we’d scribbled fantasies—a family inn, a kids’ camp, a place where everyone could belong. And we decided: now. Maggie’s inheritance was the seed, but we built the rest. We bought an old farmhouse in the Cotswolds—wooden beams, rolling fields, a river nearby. Within a year, we’d turned it into paradise.
My sister leads nature walks. Dad runs the stables—kids adore him. Mum and I cook: scones, homemade bread, strawberry jam. My brother manages everything. And Ellie? Still a dentist, but now with two practices—one in the nearest town, another right on the farm. In summer, she treats patients outdoors, surrounded by pines, birdsong, and children’s laughter.
Oh, and she got married—to a local doctor, James. Now he’s part of the family. And me? I’m in love. With my woodcarving teacher. I think it’s mutual. But neither of us has dared say it yet. Plenty of time.
Now tell me—how could I not love buses?
Sometimes one pothole on the road is a direct route to happiness. And yes, even if you don’t believe in the tooth fairy—she exists. I met her.
