**Diary Entry**
I always knew Vera had a sharp tongue. From the moment she joined the office, she never minced her words. It didn’t matter whether you wanted to hear the truth or not—she’d say it anyway.
Take Emily, for instance. She spent an entire morning flirting with the new IT guy, breezing through her tasks like she was floating on air. Then Vera cut in with, *”Hope you know his wife just had a baby last week?”* And just like that, the flirting fizzled out.
Then there was Charlotte, who couldn’t seem to quit smoking. Patches, nicotine gum—nothing worked. She even bought one of those “miracle” e-cigarettes, sneaking out every half hour for a puff. Vera, of course, had to chime in: *”Ever noticed there’s no ingredient list on that thing? Neither have I. Wonder why?”*
People tiptoed around her, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire of her blunt honesty. But Vera didn’t care. The truth was the truth, after all. The only question was—who actually wanted to hear it?
When she left for a training course abroad, the whole office breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, people were sneaking cigarettes behind the building, flirting with clients, and locking lips in dimly lit corners after Friday drinks—married or not.
Then Vera came back after three weeks. Normally, she’d stride in wearing a tailored dress, stilettos, and a cloud of heavy perfume, makeup flawless. This time? Worn-out jeans, an oversized jumper two sizes too big, hair in a messy bun. Not a scrap of makeup. She kept her sunglasses on until she vanished into her office, leaving behind only the faintest trace of *Truth* by Calvin Klein.
Most shocking of all? She didn’t scold the receptionist for forgetting the meeting notes. Didn’t snap at the IT guy for being glued to his phone, talking to his wife. Walked right past the lawyer sifting through boxes of documents without a word.
*Failed the training*, muttered the lawyer.
*She’s ill*, guessed the receptionist.
*She’s in love!* cackled Emily, throwing her head back.
*”Then why the jumper three sizes too big?”* smirked the translator.
*”Either way, there’s a meeting in an hour. Less gossiping, more prepping.”*
Except an hour later, Vera still hadn’t shown. Everyone waited, shifting uncomfortably. Then the IT guy, sitting by the window, suddenly blurted: *”Oi, look—there she is!”*
On the other side of the street, in a cosy little café, sat Vera—but a different Vera. Not because of the lack of makeup or the loose bun. No. It was the man across from her, saying something that made her laugh. *Their* Vera. *Laughing.*
The entire meeting room crowd pressed against the window, staring as if they couldn’t believe it.
*”Honestly, I couldn’t find my blouse this morning,”* Vera said to the man with a smile. *”So I stole your jumper.”*
*”I prefer you without it,”* he replied.
She flushed and playfully swatted his arm. *”Stop it.”*
*”Can’t,”* he leaned closer. *”We need to finish up here and get back to mine. Or yours. Either way, ever since we met at Heathrow, nothing’s been the same.”*
*”Agreed.”*
Then, with a grin, he whispered, *”Love, you’ve got the jumper on inside out.”*
*”Damn it!”*
*”All the more reason to come over,”* he teased.
She laughed, pulled out her phone, and dialled. A second later, the office reception phone rang.
*”Thank you for calling Hartwell & Co.! Oh—Ms. Fairfax? Right, yes. Erm… everyone’s waiting for the meeting? You—you’re not coming in? Oh! Not well? Get better soon!”*
The receptionist bolted to the conference room. *”Vera’s ill!”* she announced breathlessly.
*”We can see that,”* said the IT guy dryly. They all watched as Vera, perfectly healthy, climbed into a car with the mysterious man. She’d be gone for days—no point calling or texting.
*”Why not?”* the receptionist frowned.
Emily smirked. *”Ever come to work in an inside-out jumper? Worn sunglasses all day to hide the fact you had a *very* late night? Couldn’t care less about makeup because your head’s still somewhere else?”* She gave a knowing little shrug.
The receptionist blinked. So did everyone else.
With a final chuckle, Emily headed for the door. *”‘Ill,’ ‘failed the training’—told you she was in love. Now our Vera’s someone else entirely.”*
*”For how long?”* the IT guy muttered darkly.
She shot him a look. *”That’s up to you lot, isn’t it?”* Then she was gone.
