*The Compliant Grey Mouse! Whod want someone like you?*they all laughed. But in time, she proved them wrong.
Each new day blurred into the last. Emily sat at her desk, the stack of papers before her like a living thing, quietly but relentlessly growing, swallowing her space and time. Folders, files, reportsall piled into a teetering tower threatening to topple. Colleagues approached her with smiles and requests that sounded like foregone conclusions. *»Emily, love, you wouldnt say no, would you?»* *»Sweetheart, help me outIm swamped.»* *»Youre the most reliable one hereonly you can manage this.»* And Emily never refused. She simply couldnt find the words to disappoint anyone.
The clock ticked slowly until the hands settled on eight in the evening. The spacious office was silent, save for the steady tap of her keyboard and the soft snores of the dozing security guard. Emily still hunched over her monitor, the cold glow etching shadows under her tired eyes. She was thirty-two, wore a plain grey cardigan, and pinned her hair into a neat bun. She was dependablethe one who never let anyone down. Convenient.
Then, her phone buzzed, shattering the quiet. *Mum* flashed on the screen. Emily took a deep breath and answered.
*»Emily, darling, where are you? At work again?»* Her mothers voice was tense, laced with quiet worry.
*»Just wrapping up. Everythings fine.»*
*»I worry about you, my love. Youre always workingwhen do you ever live?»* Her mother sighed as if carrying the weight of the world. *»At your age, I was already courting your father. But you»*
*»Mum, please dont fret,»* Emily pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache blooming. *»Actually theres someone.»*
Silence. The words had tumbled out unbidden, a shield against another round of anxious questions.
*»Really?!»* Her mothers voice brightened. *»Why didnt you tell me? Whats his name? Tell me everything!»*
*»Its new. I wanted to wait until things settled.»*
*»Bring him round on Saturday! For lunch! Ill make your favourite soup, bake that apple pie you loveI must meet him!»*
Emily closed her eyes, picturing it. A whole week to find someone willing to play the partto spare her mothers heart.
*»Alright. Well be there.»*
When the call ended, she dropped her head onto her folded arms. What had she done? Where would she find someone willing to go along with such a charade?
The next morning arrived with a throbbing head and dark circles. Shed spent the night scouring dating sites, but every profile felt hollow. How would she even phrase it? *»Quiet accountant seeks temporary plus-one for family luncheons»*?
*»Em, you look dreadful,»* chimed a bright voice. It was Lucy from marketingvivacious, always smiling, the sort who breezed into personal space uninvited.
*»Just tired,»* Emily muttered.
*»Nonsense. Out with it.»*
And Emily told her. Maybe from exhaustion, maybe because she couldnt hold it in any longershe spilled everything.
Lucy listened, then clapped her hands. *»Right! Ill sort you out. Well make you dazzling, find you a proper gentleman, and your mum will sleep soundly. Deal?»*
*»Lucy, noIll figure it out»*
*»Youll drown in paperwork. Meet me after work.»*
Before Emily could protest, Lucy vanished in a cloud of perfume, leaving only the sense of an impending whirlwind.
That evening, Lucy whisked her to a posh restaurant in the heart of Londongleaming silverware, crisp linen, prices that made Emilys stomach lurch.
*»I dont belong here,»* she whispered, shrinking into her chair.
*»Nonsense! Just act like you do.»*
But Emily didnt know how to *act*. She slumped in her worn cardigan while Lucy charmed strangers, trading jokes and numbers. Emily felt like an understudy whod missed rehearsal.
*»Thats Jamesowns a chain of cafés,»* Lucy whispered, steering a polished man their way.
James spent ten minutes boasting about expansion plans without asking Emilys name, then excused himself. Next came Oliver, then Henry. All glanced at her, then lost interest.
*»Chin up,»* Lucy said on the way home. *»Tomorrows a self-actualisation workshop. Proper people there.»*
But the workshop was worsea cramped room of strangers shouting affirmations, hugging on command. When the facilitator, a man in a neon-green T-shirt, urged Emily to share her deepest fears, the floor seemed to vanish beneath her.
*»Youre blocking your emotions!»* he crowed. *»Let yourself be happy!»*
Emily said nothing. She didnt want to bare her soul to strangers. She wanted to be home, safe, with a cup of tea.
The next few days blurred into a parade of parties, gallery openings, networking events. Emily forced smiles, made small talk, but each hour left her emptier. This wasnt her worldit was all masks and pretence.
On Friday, the night before *the* lunch, Emily stayed late again, finishing a colleagues quarterly report. *»Just this once,»* theyd said, and Emily, as ever, couldnt refuse.
*»Still here?»* A familiar figure appeared in the doorway. Thomas from ITtall, quiet, in unassuming glasses. Hed fixed her computer a dozen times without ever saying much.
*»Nearly done,»* she murmured, not looking up.
He lingered. *»Emily youve seemed different lately. Are you alright?»*
She met his gazeno mockery, no pity, just kindness.
*»Its complicated,»* she exhaled.
And again, the story spilled out.
Thomas listened, then said softly, *»Maybe youre looking in the wrong places. If you pretend, youll only find something just as false.»*
The words struck her like truth.
*»But lunch is tomorrow. I cant bear to see her disappointment again.»*
*»Ill go with you,»* he offered. *»As a friend. Well say were seeing how things go. Later, we can say it didnt work out. Shell be reassured, and youll have time to breathe.»*
Emily stared. *»Youd really do that?»*
*»Of course. You shouldnt have to carry this alone.»*
On Saturday, Thomas arrived in a simple blue shirt, carrying daisies and a box of chocolates. *»For your mum,»* he smiled.
In the car, they talkedeasily, unexpectedly. They loved the same books, the same films. Hed played in a band at university.
Her mother greeted them at the door, eyes shining. Lunch was warm, effortless. Thomas praised the pie, asked about her life, told stories that made her laugh. Emily watched her mothers face soften with hope.
*»Hes wonderful!»* her mother whispered in the kitchen. *»A keeper!»*
Emily glanced at Thomas. He was real. No pretence.
Later, as they left, her mother waved from the doorstep. In the car, Thomas turned to her. *»Shes lovely. Now she wont worry.»*
*»Thank you,»* Emily said softly. *»Truly.»*
*»Anytime.»*
They drove in comfortable silencenot awkward, but understanding.
*»Fancy a walk?»* Thomas veered toward the park. *»No scripts. Just us.»*
They strolled under autumn leaves, sipping terrible coffee from a vending machine. He talked about his cat, Whiskers; she confessed shed once dreamed of being a librarian.
*»Why dont you ever say no?»* he asked suddenly. *»At work, they all pile tasks on you.»*
Emily shrugged. *»I suppose Im afraid if I do, Ill end up alone.»*
*»People should value *you*, not what you do for them.»*
She looked at him. In the lamplight, his eyes behind his glasses were gentle.
*»And who am I?»*
*»Kind. Clever. Good company. You love quiet, good books. You listen. And youve a lovely smilewhen you let it show.»*
Her pulse quickened. *»How do you know all that?»*
Thomas smiled shyly. *»Emily, weve worked in the same place five years. Ive always noticed you. Just never found the nerve to say hello.»*
*»Me? You thought *I* was intimidating?»*
*»Not intimidating. Just out of reach. Perfect.»*
*»Im ordinary.»*
*»No,»* he said. *»Youre like a quiet harbour. Being near you feels like coming home.»*
Leaves swirled around them. That warm feeling in her chestthis was what shed been searching for. Not in glamorous places, but here, in honesty.
*»Thomas,»* she whispered, *»what if we didnt pretend? What if we tried being *us*?»*
He smiledthe sort that felt like sunlight. *»Id like that.»*
On Monday, Emily returned to work unchanged. No flashy dress, no new hair. Just herself. But when a colleague asked her to cover a report, she said, *»Sorry, Ive my own work today. Ask someone else.»*
The colleague blinked but nodded.
Lucy cornered her at lunch. *»So? Found *the one*? Mum happy?»*
*»Yes,»* Emily smiled. *»Thank you for trying. But I realisedI was looking in the wrong places.»*
*»Where, then?»*
*»Right under my nose.»*
Lucy followed her gaze to Thomas passing by. He waved; Emily waved back.
*»Thomas from IT? *Him*?»*
*»Him,»* Emily said firmly.
Lucy laughed. *»Well. Congrats. Though I thought youd land someone flashier.»*
Emily smiled. *»I dont need flashy. I need *mine*.»*
That evening, they sat in a cosy café near work, drinking tea and laughing over shared quirksblack-and-white films, crossword puzzles, the way they both steeped tea too long.
*»The funny thing?»* Emily said, laying her hand over his. *»I spent so long searching for someone extraordinary. Fancy dates, trying to be interesting. But the real thing was in the next office all along.»*
*»Maybe we both needed time,»* Thomas laced their fingers. *»For you to see youre enough as you are. For me to finally speak up.»*
*»Im glad Mum pushed me,»* Emily laughed softly. *»Or we mightve danced around this for years.»*
*»But we found each other. Thats the real magic.»*
Emily looked at their joined hands, at Thomas, at the unpretentious café around them. No theatrics. Just them.
And it was better than any fairy tale.
A month later, her mother called again.
*»When are you and Thomas visiting? I miss you! And Ive a new pie recipehe adored the last one!»*
*»Soon,»* Emily promised, watching Thomas wrestle with her faulty laptop.
She hung up and slipped her arms around his shoulders. *»Know what I love most about you?»*
*»What?»* He glanced up.
*»With you, I can just be *me*.»*
*»And I love you *for* that you,»* he said. *»My quiet harbour.»*
They stood embraced in her small flat as dusk painted the sky lavender. Outside, life rushed onloud, bright, relentless.
But their happiness was here. Simple. Quiet. Real.
Sometimes, you neednt search far for what youre seeking. Sometimes, its enough to pause, listen to your heart, and look around. Happiness might be closer than you thinkif you let yourself see it.
And Emily learned to say *no*. Not always, not to everyonebut when it mattered. She stayed kind, but stopped being *convenient*. And to her surprise, people respected her more for it.
Once, in the corridor, she ran into Lucy again.
*»How are things with Thomas?»*
*»Wonderful,»* Emily said. *»Visiting his parents next week.»*
*»Im glad,»* Lucy hugged her unexpectedly. *»Sorry if I was pushy. I only wanted to help.»*
*»You did,»* Emily said honestly. *»You made me step outside my shell. And I realisedI dont need to change. Just be myself.»*
*»Wise,»* Lucy grinned. *»Maybe I should try that too.»*
Emily thought about that later. Everyone finds their own pathsome in whirlwinds, some in quiet moments. The trick is staying true to yourself, refusing masks that dont fit.
That Saturday, she and Thomas returned to her mothers, bringing Whiskers the cat, who promptly claimed her mothers lap.
*»My love,»* her mother whispered in the kitchen, *»Im so glad you found happiness. I feared youd be alone, that life would pass you by. But he *sees* you.»*
*»You were right, Mum,»* Emily hugged her. *»I needed to changejust not how I thought. Not myself. How I *valued* myself.»*
Back in the parlour, Thomas was animatedly discussing a new project. Whiskers purred, the pie cooled, and a gentle rain pattered outside.
This was happiness. Plain, honest, real.
Emily wasnt that unnoticed clerk anymore. She was just *Emily*a woman whod found herself, and in doing so, found everything else.
