**The Plain Friend**
Staring at her phone as if it were a mirror, Emily adjusted the gloss on her plump lips for the fourth time. Her long legs, sheathed in nude stockings, were artfully displayed by her ultra-short black leather skirt. The deep neckline of her tight pink top barely contained her ample silicone-enhanced busta generous gift from a former lover, the owner of a chain of car dealerships. Her delicate, perfectly sculpted nose, courtesy of another admirer, a plastic surgeon, completed the picture. Her waist-length platinum extensions shimmered under the café lights.
“Sophie, he should be here by now!” she fretted, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers. “Look at his profile photosa house in London, a villa in Tuscany…”
Sophie stirred her cooling coffee, casting occasional glances at her friend. Beside the radiant Emily, she seemed almost invisiblepetite, slightly rounded, in a modest white blouse with long sleeves and a navy-blue knee-length skirt. Her mousy brown hair was pulled into a simple ponytail, her only makeup a dab of clear lip balm. Thick textbooks on English literature sat beside her handbagshe had planned to study after this.
“Em, are you sure hes serious?” Sophie adjusted her thick-framed glasses.
“Obviously!” Emily rolled her heavily shadowed eyes. “Hes forty-two, owns a property development firm, has homes in multiple countries. Im after a husbandfive years, tops. Then divorce, a settlement, and Ill be living the high life in one of his Tuscan villas.”
Sophie winced but stayed silent. Emily stroked her surgically enhanced curves.
“Just make sure he doesnt clock my shaky English. Thats why youre here, clever clogs. And honestly,” she smirked, “you know why I brought you, right? Contrast, darling. Next to a plain Jane like you, Ill look like an absolute goddess.”
The words stung, but Sophie merely lowered her gaze. She was used to being the “ugly friend”Emily had dragged her along to dates and parties since school, always using her as a backdrop for her own brilliance.
A man entered the café. Average height, slightly portly, with greying hair and kind brown eyes behind thin gold-rimmed glasses. Unremarkable at first glance, but Emilys practised eye caught the details: his charcoal suit was understated but unmistakably bespoke, the Oxford shoes a limited edition from an Italian designerworth more than her annual student loan.
“Oh!” she whispered. “Hes loaded. Shame about the face, though.”
The man approached their table, holding a single white rose.
“Excuse me, are you Emily?” His voice was warm, tinged with a refined London accent. “Im James Whitmore.”
“Yes, thats me!” Emily transformed instantly, flashing a seductive smile and leaning forward to deepen her cleavage. “And this is my friend Sophie.”
James nodded politely to Sophie and handed Emily the rose before sitting. Sophie noticed his gaze lingering on her stack of books, not Emilys revealing outfit.
“I brought you both a small gift,” he said, producing two elegant Chanel boxes.
“Oh! How lovely!” Emily tore into hers, mentally calculating its worth. “This is very posh, yes? Amazing perfume!” Her accent was thick, her grammar fractured.
“Thank you, Mr. Whitmore,” Sophie said quietly. Jamess eyes flicked to her in surpriseher English was flawless. “Its incredibly thoughtful.”
“Please, call me James. So, you both study literature?”
“Yes! I learn English very well!” Emily trilled, tossing her hair. “I want visit London! Big house there, yes?” She traced his hand with her perfectly manicured nails.
James barely concealed a wince.
“And you, Sophie?” He turned to her. “What interests you most in your studies?”
“Victorian literature,” she said, her voice gaining confidence. “The challenge of capturing not just the story, but the eras nuancesDickens, the Brontës…”
“Really?” His eyes lit up. “What do you think of *Middlemarch*? Most students find it dense.”
“It is,” she smiled, “but brilliant. Eliots insight into human natureits like peeling an onion, layer after layer.”
Emily scowled. This wasnt part of her plan.
“James!” She gripped his shoulder. “Tell me about your work! Youre very successful, yes? Rich!”
“I consult on sustainable architecture,” he said coolly, shifting away. “But Id rather hear about your studies, Sophie. Have you read much Austen? Her social commentary is razor-sharp.”
For the next half-hour, James barely glanced at Emily, engrossed in conversation with Sophie. Normally reserved, Sophie blossomedher eyes sparkled behind her glasses as she debated themes and translations.
Emily grew sullen. She tried to interjectcrossing her legs dramatically, adjusting her top, giggling with empty phrases like “So interesting!” or “I love books too!”but her efforts fell flat.
Finally, she stood abruptly. “Excuse us! Sophie, ladies room. Girl talk!”
In the bathroom, Emily jabbed a finger into Sophies chest.
“Have you lost it?! Thats *my* mark!”
“I was just answering his questions”
“Dont play innocent!” Emily hissed. “Youre here to make *me* look good! I spent a fortune on this outfitIm the star, youre the dull sidekick! And youre ruining it with your bookish nonsense!”
Sophie adjusted her glasses, hands trembling.
“Fine. Ill go.”
Back at the table, she gathered her things.
“James, Im sorry, but I must leave. Thank you for the conversationand the gift.”
“But why?” He stood, dismayed. “We were having such a lovely talk…”
“It was wonderful meeting you,” she said softly. “Enjoy your time in Manchester.”
She hurried out, leaving Emily alone with her prize.
But James had lost interest. Emily prattled about her looks, her surgeries, her designer wardrobehe nodded mechanically, checking his watch.
“Apologies, Emily, but I have an urgent matter.” He left cash for the coffees. “This was… enlightening.”
He didnt ask for her number.
Emily seethed, scrolling dating apps. Within minutes, she messaged a tech entrepreneur named Daniel: *”Hey handsome! When do you land? Cant wait to see you! “*
Two weeks later, Sophie exited the university after defending her thesis on Victorian novels, her bag heavy with her *first-class* graded paper. Outside stood James beside a sleek black Jaguar, holding white roses.
“Sophie! Ive been waiting.”
“James? I thought youd gone back to London…”
“I couldnt leave without seeing you again.” He offered the bouquet. “Dinner with me? Ive so much to say…”
She hesitated, spotting Emily nearby, her face twisting with fury.
“If youre inviting me, invite my friends too. I dont want anyone left out.”
James laughed. “Youre remarkable. Of course! Everyones welcome!”
An hour later, their entire literature class dined at Manchesters finest restaurant. James ordered Dom Pérignon and the chefs best dishes. Emily, in a scandalously low-cut dress, laughed too loudly, but James only had eyes for Sophie.
“Sophie,” he murmured, “our conversation stayed with me. Youve awoken something I thought was gone.”
She blushed. “You barely know me…”
“I know youre brilliant, kind, real. You remind me of my mothershe taught literature. She always said true beauty is in the soul, not…” He glanced at Emily.
As dessert arrived, James stood, tapping his glass.
“Everyone! Id like to ask Sophie something important.” He knelt, opening a Cartier ring box. “Sophie, Ive searched for you my whole life. Will you marry me?”
The diamond glittered. The room held its breath.
“James… this is so sudden…”
“Take all the time you need,” he said, sliding the ring onto her finger. “But I hope youll give us a chance.”
The room erupted in cheers. Emily clapped, her smile brittle.
That night, she read a WhatsApp from Daniel: *”Hey babe! Just landed. Room 1205, Radisson. Lets have fun ;)”*
The tech entrepreneur was just another tourist.
Sophie, cradling her roses, twisted the diamond ring on her finger. Lifes surprises, she mused, didnt require being the “pretty friend”just being yourself.
