Who would ever want a plain little grey mouse like you? Everyone laughed. But with time
Each new day blurred into the last. Emma sat at her desk, the tower of paperwork in front of her like a living thingquiet, relentless, swallowing her time and space. Files, folders, reports, all stacked so high they threatened to topple. Her colleagues approached with easy smiles and requests that sounded more like demands. Em, love, you wouldnt mind, would you? Sweetheart, Im drowningyoure the only one who can sort this. And Emma couldnt say no. She never found the words to disappoint anyone.
The clock ticked slowly, and by eight in the evening, the open-plan office was silent except for the tap of her keyboard and the soft snores of the security guard napping at his post. The glow of her screen cast shadows under her tired eyes. Thirty-two years old, in a sensible grey cardigan, her hair neatly pinned upEmma was the reliable one. The one who never let anyone down. The *convenient* one.
Then her phone buzzed**Mum** flashed on the screen. Emma took a deep breath and answered.
Em, darling, where are you? Still at work? Her mums voice was tight with worry.
Just finishing up. Everythings fine.
Love, Im so worried! Youre always workingwhen do you *live*? Her mum sighed like she carried the weight of the world. At your age, I was already dating your dad, and you
Mum, please dont fret, Emma pressed her fingers to her temples, a headache building. Actually Ive met someone.
Silence. The words had tumbled out before she could stop them.
*Really?* Her mums voice brightened instantly. Emma, why didnt you say? Whats his name? Tell me everything!
Weve not been together long. I wanted to wait until it felt solid.
Bring him round Saturday! Lunch! Ill make your favourite roast and that apple crumble you love. I *have* to meet him!
Emma closed her eyes, picturing it. Seven days to find someone willing to play the partto keep her mum from worrying.
Alright. Well be there.
Hanging up, she dropped her head into her hands. *What have I done?*
The next morning brought dark circles and a throbbing head. Shed spent the night scrolling dating apps, every profile feeling stale or staged. How did you even phrase it? *Quiet accountant seeks temporary plus-one for family lunch?*
Emma, you look awful, chirped a voice. Jess from Marketingbright, bubbly, and always in her business. They werent close, but Jess had a way of bulldozing into personal space.
Just tired, Emma mumbled.
Jess narrowed her eyes. Liar. Spill.
And somehow, Emma did. Maybe from exhaustion, maybe because she couldnt hold it in anymoreshe told her everything. The lie, the lunch, the imaginary boyfriend.
Jess clapped her hands. *Right.* Operation Makeover starts now. Weve got a week to turn you into a knockout, find you a decent bloke, and put your mum at ease. Deal?
No, Jess, I can sort it
*Please.* Youd vanish under those spreadsheets. Meet me after work.
That evening, Jess marched her into a swanky restaurant in the heart of Londoncrisp white tablecloths, gleaming cutlery, prices that made Emmas stomach drop.
Jess, I dont belong here
Rubbish! Just *own* it.
But Emma couldnt. She hunched in her old cardigan while Jess charmed strangers, swapping jokes and numbers. Then came Oliver (finance bro, talked *at* her for ten minutes), then James (barely glanced her way), then a parade of others who lost interest fast.
Dont worry, Jess said breezily on the way home. Tomorrows a self-empowerment workshop. *Better* crowd.
The workshop was worse. A room full of strangers hugging and shouting about self-love. Emma stood frozen by the wall until the neon-clad facilitator tried to drag her into the spotlight to confront her fears. She nearly bolted.
The next few days blurred into a circus of parties, networking events, and forced smiles. Emma tried*really* triedbut each hour left her emptier. This wasnt her world.
Friday night, she was still at her desk, finishing a report for a colleague whod just askedlike always.
Youre here late.
She looked up. Tom from ITtall, quiet, wire-rimmed glasses. He fixed their computers, mostly in silence. Theyd worked in the same building for years and barely spoken.
Nearly done, she said.
He hesitated, then stepped closer. Emma are you okay? Youve seemed off lately.
His gaze was kind. No pity, no judgment.
So she told him. The lie, the lunch, the exhausting charade.
Tom listened, then said softly, Maybe youre looking in the wrong places. If you pretend, youll only find pretend things.
The words struck her.
But lunch is *tomorrow*. I cant see that look on her face again
Ill go with you, he offered. As a friend. Well meet, chat, and later say it didnt work out. No rush, no pressure.
Emma stared. Youd *do* that?
Course. Colleagues, right?
On Saturday, Tom picked her upnavy shirt, a modest bouquet of daisies, a box of chocolates. For your mum, he smiled.
And somehow it was easy. They talked books (both loved sci-fi), films, how Tom had played in a band at uni.
Her mum beamed at the door. Lunch was warm, *real*Tom complimented her roast, asked about her life, made her laugh. Emma watched her mums face light up, hope sparkling in her eyes.
Hes *lovely*, her mum whispered in the kitchen.
Driving home, Tom glanced at her. Shes brilliant. Now she wont worry.
Emma swallowed. Thank you. Seriously.
He shrugged. No trouble.
Then, instead of heading straight back, he turned into a park. Fancy a walk? No scripts.
They strolled under autumn trees, drank terrible coffee from a kiosk, talked about Toms cat (Mr. Whiskers) and how Emma had wanted to be a librarian.
Why dont you ever say no? Tom asked suddenly. At work, they dump everything on you.
Emma shrugged. I guess Im scared if I do, Ill end up alone.
Tom stopped, turning to her. People should like you for *you*not just what you do for them.
Under the amber streetlights, his eyes were gentle.
And what *am* I?
Youre clever. Kind. You listen. Youve got this quiet warmth. And when you smile properly? Its like the whole room settles.
Her heart skipped.
How do you even *know* that?
Tom ducked his head. Emma weve worked in the same place five years. Ive always noticed you. Just never knew how to say it.
She laughed, disbelieving. *Me?* Im just me.
Exactly, he said softly. Thats the point.
The leaves rustled, and Emma realisedthis was it. Not in posh restaurants or loud crowds, but here. In honesty.
Tom, she whispered, what if we *dont* pretend? What if we just try?
His smile was sunlight. Id love that.
Monday morning, Emma walked in unchangedsame cardigan, same hair. But when a colleague tried to offload work, she said, Sorry, Ive got my own things today.
Jess cornered her at lunch. So? Any luck?
Emma smiled. Yeah. Just not where I expected.
Jess followed her gazeto Tom, waving from across the room.
*Him?*
Mm. Perfectly.
That evening, they sat in a cosy café near work, laughing over shared quirksblack-and-white films, crossword obsessions, how they both steeped tea exactly four minutes.
Funny, isnt it? Emma said, lacing her fingers with his. All that time searching, and you were right there.
Tom squeezed her hand. Glad we finally looked.
A month later, her mum called. When are you two visiting again? Ill bake that crumble he liked!
Soon, Emma promised, watching Tom wrestle with her laptop.
She hung up and hugged him from behind. You know what I love most?
Hm?
With you, Im just *me*.
Tom turned, kissing her forehead. Thats all Ill ever want.
Outside, the world rushed onbright, noisy, endless. But their happiness was here. Simple. True.
Sometimes, you dont need to chase it. Sometimes, its been beside you all along.
