A plain little grey mouse! Whod want *you*? everyone used to laugh. But time passed, and nothing much changed.
Every day was the same as the last. Emily sat at her desk, the mountain of paperwork before her growing like some sort of office-dwelling creature, silently swallowing up her time and sanity. Files, spreadsheets, reportsall piled into a teetering tower threatening to collapse at any moment. Colleagues ambled over with smiles and requests delivered as if they were the most natural thing in the world.
*Em, love, you wouldnt say no, would you?*
*Sweetheart, Im drowningcan you bail me out?*
*Youre the only one I trust with this.*
And Emily *couldnt* say no. The words just wouldnt come. The idea of disappointing someone made her stomach twist.
The clock ticked on, and before she knew it, the hands had settled on eight in the evening. The open-plan office had emptied, leaving only the hum of her keyboard and the distant snoring of the security guard at his post. The glow of the monitor washed over Emilys tired face, deepening the shadows under her eyes. She was thirty-two, dressed in an unassuming beige cardigan, her hair pulled back in a neat bun. Reliable. Dependable. *Convenient.*
Thenher phone buzzed, shattering the silence. The screen flashed *Mum.* Emily took a deep breath and answered.
*Emily, love, where are you? Still at work?* Her mothers voice was tight with poorly concealed worry.
*Just finishing up. Everythings fine.*
*Darling, when do you *live*? Youre always working! At your age, I was already*
*Mum, please,* Emily pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache brewing. *Actually Im seeing someone.*
Silence. She wasnt entirely sure why shed said itthe words had tumbled out like a shield against the inevitable interrogation.
*You *are*?* Her mothers delight was palpable. *Why didnt you say anything? Whats his name? Tell me everything!*
*Weve only just started seeing each other. I wanted to wait until things were settled.*
*Bring him round! Saturday lunchIll make your favourite roast and that apple crumble you love!*
Emily closed her eyes, already dreading the inevitable. A whole week to find a man willing to play along.
*Alright. Well be there.*
Hanging up, she dropped her head onto her folded arms. What had she *done*?
The next morning arrived with a thudding headache and dark circles. Shed spent half the night scrolling through dating apps, every profile either painfully dull or suspiciously polished. How did one even phrase *Unassuming accountant seeks temporary plus-one for family deception*?
*Em, you look *awful*,* chirped a voice. Chloe, from marketingeffortlessly glamorous, perpetually cheerful. They werent close, but Chloe had a habit of bulldozing into personal space uninvited.
*Just tired.*
*Liar. Spill.*
And Emily did. Maybe from exhaustion, maybe because she couldnt hold it in anymoreshe confessed the whole mess. The lie. The lunch. The non-existent boyfriend.
Chloe clapped her hands. *Right. Operation Makeover starts *now*. Well find you someone respectable, your mum will be thrilled, and *no more* sad desk lunches.*
*Chloe, no*
*Meet me at reception after work. No arguments!*
That evening, Chloe dragged her to a swanky restaurant in Mayfaircrisp linen, gleaming silverware, prices that made Emilys eyes water.
*I dont belong here,* she whispered, shrinking into her chair.
*Nonsense! Just *smile*.*
But Emily didnt *do* charming small talk. She hunched in her cardigan while Chloe worked the room, exchanging numbers and air-kisses.
First came Oliver (finance, loved his own voice). Then Henry (consultant, barely glanced at her). By the end of the night, Emily was exhausted.
*Tomorrowconfidence workshop!* Chloe announced.
The workshop was worse. A room full of strangers shouting affirmations, a facilitator in a hideous neon T-shirt demanding she *release her fears.* Emily stood frozen, wishing for her sofa and a cup of tea.
The next few days blurred into a parade of awkward eventscocktail parties, gallery openings, networking mixers. Emily smiled, nodded, and felt increasingly hollow.
ThenFriday. The office empty again, Emily finishing *another* colleagues overdue report because *Youre such a love, Em.*
*Still here?*
She looked up. Thomas, from IT. Tall, quiet, glasses. Theyd exchanged maybe three sentences in five years.
*Nearly done.*
He lingered. *Youve seemed off lately.*
Andshe told him. The whole ridiculous story.
Thomas listened, then shrugged. *Maybe youre looking in the wrong places. If you pretend, youll find something just as fake.*
*But lunch is *tomorrow*.*
*Ill come.*
She blinked. *What?*
*As a friend. Well say it didnt work out later. No harm done.*
Saturday arrived. Thomas picked her upblue shirt, a modest bouquet of daisies, a box of chocolates. *For your mum.*
And somehow it was easy. They talked books (both loved sci-fi), films (shared a soft spot for terrible rom-coms), and Thomas brief stint in a uni band.
Her mother adored him. Lunch was warm, laughter-filledThomas complimented the crumble, asked about her mums garden, told stories that made them both laugh.
*Hes *lovely*,* her mother whispered as they cleared plates.
Driving home, Thomas grinned. *Shell sleep easy now.*
*Thank you. Really.*
He turned into a park. *Fancy a walk? No scripts.*
They strolled under autumn leaves, drinking terrible coffee from a vending machine. Thomas talked about his cat, Whiskers. Emily confessed her childhood dream of running a bookshop.
*Why do you never say no?* he asked suddenly.
*I dont know. Maybe Im scared people will leave.*
*The right ones wont.*
She looked at himreally looked. In the golden light, his smile was soft.
*What do you see in me?*
*Youre kind. Clever. You listen. And youve got this quiet smilelike you know a secret.*
Her heart did something odd. *Five years, and you never said anything?*
*You seemed untouchable.*
She laughed. *Me?*
*Yeah. You.*
The leaves crunched underfoot. Emily realisedthis was it. Not in crowded rooms or forced conversations. Here.
*Thomas what if we *didnt* pretend?*
His grin was answer enough.
Monday morning, Emily walked in unchangedsame cardigan, same bun. But when a colleague dumped another quick favour on her desk, she said:
*No.*
Chloe cornered her at lunch. *So? Found *The One*?*
*Yes.*
*Who?*
Emily nodded towards Thomas, passing by with a wave.
Chloe gawped. **Him*? But hes so *ordinary*.*
*Exactly.*
That evening, they sat in a cosy café, laughing over shared quirkscrossword addictions, a mutual hatred of cilantro, their disastrous attempts at baking.
*The funniest part?* Emily said, threading her fingers through his. *You were next door the whole time.*
*Took us long enough.*
A month later, her mum rang. *When are you bringing Thomas back? Ive perfected the crumble!*
*Soon,* Emily promised, watching Thomas wrestle with her laptop charger.
She hung up and hugged him from behind. *Know why I love you?*
*Why?*
*Because with you, Im just *me*.*
*Good,* he said, turning to kiss her forehead. *Because just you is perfect.*
Outside, London buzzed onbright, loud, relentless. But here, in her tiny flat with a purring cat and a man whod loved her quietly for years, Emily had found something better than any grand romance.
Something real.
