**Diary Entry**
*”Who on earth would want a plain little grey mouse like you?”* Thats what they all used to say. But time has a way of changing things.
Every day was the same. Eleanor sat at her desk, drowning in paperworktowers of files, reports, and invoices stacking up like they had a life of their own. Colleagues approached with easy smiles and careless requests. *”Ellie, you wouldnt mind, would you?”* *”Love, youre the only one who can handle this.”* And Eleanor never said no. She couldnt bear the thought of disappointing anyone.
By eight in the evening, the office was quiet, save for the hum of her computer and the distant snores of the night guard. The blue glow of the screen washed over her tired face, shadows deepening under her eyes. At thirty-two, she wore a simple grey cardigan, her hair pulled into a neat bun. Reliable. Dependable. Convenient.
Then her phone buzzedMum. She took a deep breath and answered.
*”Ellie, darling, where are you? Still at work?”* Her mothers voice was laced with worry.
*”Just wrapping up, Mum. Everythings fine.”*
*”Youre always working! When do you ever live?”* Her mother sighed like she carried the weight of the world. *”At your age, I was already dating your father, but you”*
*”Mum, please dont worry,”* Eleanor pinched the bridge of her nose. *”Actually theres someone.”*
The silence on the other end was deafening. She hadnt meant to say itthe words just spilled out, a desperate shield.
*”Really?!”* Her mothers voice lit up. *”Why didnt you say anything? Whats his name? Tell me everything!”*
*”We weve only just started seeing each other. I wanted to be sure first.”*
*”Bring him round this Saturday! Lunch! Ill make your favourite roast and that apple crumble you love!”*
Eleanor closed her eyes. Seven days to find a man willing to play the part.
*”Alright, Mum. Well be there.”*
After hanging up, she buried her face in her hands. What had she done?
The next morning, dark circles under her eyes, she scrolled through dating sites. Every profile felt hollow. How did one advertise: *”Quiet accountant seeks temporary plus-one for family lunch”*?
*”Ellie, you look dreadful,”* chirped Gemma from Marketingbright, bubbly, and always in her business.
*”Just tired,”* Eleanor mumbled.
Gemma leaned in. *”Tell me.”*
And somehow, she did. The whole ridiculous story spilled out.
Gemma clapped her hands. *”Right. Im taking over. Well transform you, find you a proper bloke, and your mum will be thrilled.”*
*”Gem, no”*
*”Done! Meet me after work.”*
That evening, Gemma dragged her to a posh restaurant in Mayfaircrisp white tablecloths, gleaming silverware, prices that made her stomach drop.
*”I dont belong here,”* Eleanor whispered.
*”Nonsense! Just act like you do.”*
But Eleanor couldnt. She hunched in her old cardigan while Gemma charmed every man in sight. There was Oliver, the coffee chain owner, who talked at her for ten minutes without asking her name. Then came Henry, then James. All of them glanced her way before losing interest.
*”Chin up,”* Gemma said on the way home. *”Tomorrow, weve got a self-empowerment seminar. Better crowd.”*
The seminar was worsea room full of strangers shouting affirmations. When the neon-clad coach demanded she share her deepest fears, Eleanor wanted to vanish.
The next few days blurred into a parade of parties and networking events. Eleanor smiled, nodded, and felt emptier each time.
On Friday, the night before *the* lunch, she was still at her desk, finishing someone elses quarterly report, when a familiar figure appeared.
*”Still here?”* It was Olivernot the coffee Oliver, but Oliver from IT. Tall, quiet, glasses. Theyd barely spoken in five years.
*”Nearly done,”* she said.
He hesitated. *”Ellie youve seemed different lately. Everything alright?”*
She looked up. No mockery, just genuine concern.
*”Its complicated,”* she admitted. And then, inexplicably, she told him everything.
He listened. Then, softly: *”Maybe youre looking in the wrong places. If you pretend, youll only find pretence.”*
Her chest tightened. *”But the lunch is tomorrow. I cant let her down again.”*
*”Ill go with you,”* he said. *”As a friend. Well meet, chat, and later say it didnt work out. Gives you time to figure things out properly.”*
She stared. *”Youd do that?”*
*”Course. Colleagues, arent we?”*
Saturday arrived. Oliver picked her up in a navy shirt, clutching daisies and a box of chocolates. *”For your mum,”* he smiled.
Talking to him felt easy. They loved the same books, the same films. By the time they arrived, her nerves had settled.
Her mother beamed. Lunch was warm, effortless. Oliver praised the roast, asked about her mums garden, told stories about his uni band.
*”Hes wonderful!”* her mother whispered in the kitchen. *”A real keeper!”*
Eleanor watched him pour tea, something warm unfurling in her chest.
Later, as they left, Oliver turned to her. *”Your mums lovely. Shell sleep easy now.”*
*”Thank you,”* she whispered. *”Really.”*
They drove in comfortable silence until he veered into a park. *”Fancy a walk? No scripts.”*
They strolled under golden leaves, drinking cheap coffee. He spoke of his cat, Whiskers; she confessed her childhood dream of being a librarian.
*”Why dont you ever say no?”* he asked suddenly. *”At work, everyone dumps their tasks on you.”*
She shrugged. *”I suppose Im afraid people will leave if I do.”*
*”Ellie, people should value *you*, not what you do for them.”*
She looked up. In the lamplight, his eyes were kind.
*”And what am I?”*
*”Youre thoughtful. Clever. You listen. And youve got this quiet smilewhen you let it show.”*
Her heart skipped. *”How do you know all that?”*
He ducked his head. *”Weve worked together five years. Ive always noticed you. Just never had the nerve to say hello.”*
They stood there, leaves swirling around them, and Eleanor realisedthis was it. Not in crowded rooms or flashy events, but here.
*”Oliver,”* she breathed. *”What if we didnt pretend?”*
His smile was soft. *”Id like that.”*
Come Monday, Eleanor was different. Not in lookssame cardigan, same bunbut when a colleague slid a report her way, she said, *”Sorry, Ive got my own work today.”*
Gemma cornered her at lunch. *”Well? Any luck?”*
*”Yes,”* Eleanor smiled. *”Just not where I expected.”*
Gemma followed her gaze to Oliver, passing by. *”Him? Really?”*
*”Really.”*
*”Huh. I thought youd go for someone flashier.”*
*”I dont need flashy,”* Eleanor said. *”I just need *mine*.”*
That evening, they sat in a cosy café near work, laughing over shared quirkscrossword obsessions, a mutual hatred of loud pubs.
*”Funny, isnt it?”* Eleanor laced her fingers with his. *”All that time searching, and you were right next door.”*
*”Maybe we both needed time,”* he said. *”You to stop pleasing everyone. Me to finally speak up.”*
A month later, her mum called. *”When are you bringing Oliver back? Ive got a new crumble recipe!”*
*”Soon,”* Eleanor promised, watching him wrestle with her laptop.
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. *”Know what I love most about you?”*
*”What?”*
*”With you, Im just *me*.”*
He turned, smiling. *”And thats why I love *you*.”*
Outside, London buzzednoisy, bright, relentless. But here, in her little flat, with Whiskers purring and Olivers steady presence, shed found something real.
Sometimes, you dont need to chase happiness. Sometimes, its been beside you all alongwaiting for you to see it.
And Eleanor? She learned to say no. Not to kindness, but to being taken for granted. And to her surprise, people respected her more for it.
One day, Gemma stopped her in the hall. *”You and Oliver really happy?”*
*”Yes,”* Eleanor said.
Gemma hugged her. *”Im glad. And sorry if I pushed too hard.”*
*”You helped,”* Eleanor admitted. *”Just not how you thought.”*
Happiness isnt one-size-fits-all. For some, its glittering crowds. For others, its quiet evenings and shared silences. The trick is to stop pretendingand let yourself find it.
That Saturday, they visited her mum again, Whiskers in tow. As rain pattered outside and Oliver chatted about his latest project, Eleanor watched her mothers smilecontent, relieved.
No more grey mouse. Just Eleanor. Happy. Herself.
And that, she realised, was more than enough.
**Lesson learned:** The right people will love you for who you arenot for what you do for them. Stop searching where you dont belong, and you might find what youve needed all along, closer than you think.
