“Whod want a boring little grey mouse like you?” Everyone laughed. But as time passed, each day blurred into the next. Emily sat at her desk, the pile of paperwork in front of her growing like some relentless creature, swallowing up both space and time. Files, folders, reportsthey stacked into a tower threatening to topple. Colleagues approached her with smiles and requests that sounded like casual inevitabilities. “Em, you dont mind, do you?” “Love, could you help? Im completely swamped.” “Youre the most reliable one hereonly you can do this.” And Emily couldnt say no. She just couldnt find the words to disappoint anyone.
The clock ticked slowly, and before she knew it, the hands pointed to eight in the evening. The spacious office was silent except for the steady clack of her keyboard and the soft snoring of the security guard dozing at his post. Emily still sat at her monitor, the cold glow of the screen casting shadows under her tired eyes. At thirty-two, she wore a plain grey cardigan and tucked her hair into a neat bun. She was the one everyone relied on, the one who never let anyone down. Convenient.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed, shattering the quiet. The screen flashed “Mum.” Emily took a deep breath and answered.
“Em, darling, where are you? Still at work?” Her mothers voice was anxious, laced with quiet worry.
“Yeah, just finishing up. Everythings fine.”
“Sweetheart, I worry so much! Youre always workingwhen do you actually live?” Her mother sighed as if carrying the weight of the world. “At your age, I was already seeing your dad, and you”
“Mum, please dont worry,” Emily pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache forming. “Actually… Ive met someone.”
Silence. She hadnt even meant to say itthe words had tumbled out like a shield against more prying questions.
“Really?!” Her mothers voice lit up. “Emily, why didnt you say anything? Whats his name? Tell me everything!”
“We… havent been together long. I wanted to wait until things were more settled.”
“Well, bring him round this Saturday! For lunch! Ill make your favourite soup, bake that apple pie you loveI want to meet him!”
Emily closed her eyes, picturing it. A whole week to find someone willing to play the partto avoid crushing the woman who meant the most to her.
“Alright, Mum. Well be there.”
Hanging up, she dropped her head onto her folded arms. What had she done? Where would she even find someone to agree to this?
The next morning arrived with a throbbing head and dark circles under her eyes. Shed spent the night scrolling dating sites, but every profile felt dull and insincere. How would she describe herself? “Quiet accountant seeks temporary plus-one for family gatherings”?
“Em, are you okay? You look wrecked,” chirped a voice. It was Jess from marketingbubbly, always-smiling, and the type to barge into personal space uninvited. They werent close, but Jess had a knack for prying.
“Just tired,” Emily replied automatically.
“Liar. Spill.”
And Emily did. Maybe from exhaustion, maybe because she couldnt keep it in anymore, she told her everythingabout her mum, the fake boyfriend, the looming Saturday lunch.
Jess listened, nodding, then clapped her hands like shed solved a puzzle. “Right! Heres the plan. Im taking charge of your makeover. Well turn you into a queen, find you a decent bloke, and your mum will sleep soundly. Deal?”
“Jess, no, I can handle it”
“Handle what? Drowning in spreadsheets? Nope. Meet me at the main entrance after work.”
Emily opened her mouth to protest, but Jess was already gone, leaving a cloud of perfume and the sense of an incoming whirlwind.
That evening, Jess dragged her to a swanky restaurant in the city centregleaming cutlery, crisp white tablecloths, prices that made Emilys stomach drop.
“Jess, I cant afford this,” she whispered, gripping her chair.
“Relax! This is where the good ones hang out. Just work your charm.”
But Emily didnt know how to “work charm.” She hunched in her old cardigan while Jess effortlessly chatted up strangers, swapping jokes and numbers. Emily felt like an actor whod missed her cue.
“Check out Oliverowns a chain of coffee shops,” Jess whispered, steering a polished man toward their table.
For ten minutes, Oliver monologued about business expansion without asking Emilys name, then excused himself. Next was Daniel, then James. All gave her a cursory glance before losing interest.
“Chin up,” Jess said on their way home. “Tomorrows a self-actualisation seminar. Proper people there.”
The seminar was… odd. A room full of strangers shouting about self-love and hugging. Emily stood by the wall, panic rising. When the coacha man in a neon-green T-shirtasked her to share her deepest fears, she wanted the floor to swallow her.
“Youre blocking your emotions!” he declared. “Let yourself be happy!”
Emily stayed silent. She didnt want to share with strangers. She wanted to be home with tea and quiet.
The next few days were a blur of parties, networking events, and forced small talk. Emily smiled, nodded, but felt emptier by the hour. This world of masks wasnt hers.
On Fridaythe day before the dreaded lunchEmily stayed late again, finishing a colleagues quarterly report. (Theyd asked. She couldnt refuse.)
“Youre still here?” A familiar voice. It was Tom from ITtall, quiet, wearing simple glasses. He fixed their tech, usually in silence. Theyd worked in the same company for years but barely spoken.
“Nearly done,” she said, not looking up.
He lingered, then stepped closer. “Em… can I ask? Youve seemed… off lately. Everything alright?”
She met his eyes. No mockery, no pityjust genuine concern.
“Its complicated,” she exhaled.
And just like with Jess, it all spilled outher mum, the fake boyfriend, the endless social circus. Tom listened without interrupting.
“Maybe youre looking in the wrong places,” he said when she finished. “If youre pretending, youll only find something fake.”
The words hit her like a revelation.
“But lunch is tomorrow. I cant see that disappointment in her eyes again.”
“Want me to come?” he offered. “As a friend. Well meet, chat, and later say we didnt click. Your mum gets peace, and you buy time to figure things out.”
Emily stared. “Youd really do that?”
“Course. Were colleagues. I hate seeing you stressed.”
On Saturday, Tom picked her up. He wore a simple blue shirt, carried daisies and a box of chocolates. “For your mum,” he smiled.
In the car, they talkedeasily, for once. They loved the same books, films, even the way they brewed tea. Her mum beamed when they arrived. Lunch was warm, effortless. Tom praised the pie, asked about her life, told funny stories. Emily watched her mums face light up.
“Hes lovely!” her mum whispered in the kitchen. “Oh, Em, hes a keeper!”
Emily glanced at Tom. He was… real. No pretence.
Driving back, Tom turned to her. “Your mums brilliant. Shell rest easy now.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Really.”
“Anytime.”
Comfortable silence followed, not awkward but warm.
“Fancy a walk?” Tom suddenly turned toward the park. “No scripts.”
They strolled under autumn leaves, drank cheap coffee, talked about his cat, Whiskers, and how shed wanted to be a librarian.
“Why dont you ever say no?” Tom asked suddenly. “At work, everyone dumps tasks on you.”
Emily shrugged. “I guess… Im scared people will leave if I do.”
“Em, people should like you for you, not just what you do for them.”
She looked at him. In the soft glow of streetlights, his eyes were kind behind his glasses.
“And who am I?”
“Youre thoughtful, clever, a great listener. You love quiet and good books. And youve got this smilewhen you let it show.”
Her heart skipped.
“How do you know all that?”
Tom smiled shyly. “Weve worked together five years. Ive… always noticed you. Just never knew how to say it.”
They stood in the park, golden leaves swirling. That strange, warm feeling in her chestthis was it. Not in fancy restaurants or loud events, but here, in honesty.
“Tom,” she whispered. “What if we… just see where this goes?”
He grinned, the kind of smile that felt like sunlight. “Id love that.”
On Monday, Emily walked in changed. Not in a new dress or dyed hairstill her, still in her cardigan. But when a colleague asked her to cover their report, she said, “Sorry, Ive got my own work today. Try someone else.”
Jess cornered her at lunch. “So? Found ‘the one’? Mum happy?”
“Yeah,” Emily smiled. “Just… not where I expected.”
Jess followed her gaze to Tom walking by. He waved; Emily waved back.
“Tom from IT? Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Congrats. Though I thought youd land someone… flashier.”
Emily smiled. “I dont need flashy. I need real.”
That evening, they sat in a cosy café near work, laughing over shared quirksblack-and-white films, crossword obsessions, their weird tea rituals.
“You know the best part?” Emily said, lacing her fingers with his. “I spent so long trying to be someone else. But the real thing was right there all along.”
“Maybe we both needed time,” Tom said. “You to stop pleasing everyone. Me to finally talk to you.”
“Im glad Mum pushed me,” she laughed. “Or we mightve missed each other forever.”
A month later, her mum called again. “When are you and Tom visiting? I miss you! And Ive got a new pie recipehe loved the last one!”
“Soon, Mum, promise,” Emily said, watching Tom fiddle with her laptop.
She hung up and hugged him from behind. “You know what I love most about you?”
“What?”
“That with you, Im just… me.”
Tom turned, pulling her close. “And thats all Ill ever want.”
Outside, the sky turned pink with evening. Somewhere beyond, life rushed onloud, bright, relentless.
But their happiness was here. Simple. Quiet. Real.
Sometimes, you dont need to search far for what youre looking for. Sometimes, its been beside you all along.
And Emily? She learned to say no. Not always, but when it mattered. She stayed kind, but stopped being convenient. And to her surprise, people respected her more for it.
One day, Jess stopped her in the hallway. “You and Tom still good?”
“Perfect,” Emily said.
Jess hugged her. “Im happy for you. Sorry if I was pushy. I just wanted to help.”
“You did,” Emily said honestly. “Just not how you thought. You made me step out of my shell… and realise I liked who I was all along.”
Jess grinned. “Wise words. Maybe I should listen too.”
That Saturday, they visited her mum again, this time with Whiskers in tow. The cat curled on her mums lap, the pie cooled on the table, and a gentle rain pattered outside.
And thisthis was happiness. Simple. Honest. Entirely real.
Emily wasnt that invisible girl anymore. She was just Emilyherself, and finally, completely happy.
