He Gave My Shoes to Another Woman

Ethan was famously cold and arrogant, a man who never bent his knee to anyone.

Yet, he would willingly drop to one knee just to change my shoes.

He always said my ankle had an old injury and would ache if I stood for too long.

So, in the trunk of his car, there was always a pair of white sneakers kept just for me.

Everyone joked that Ethan spoiled me so much that I had lost the ability to take care of myself.

He didn't care at all. He would just wrap his arm around me and smile.

"I spoiled her. Anyone got a problem with that?"

That was until his childhood friend, Chloe, whose family had just gone bankrupt, moved into our home.

Tonight, at the end of the charity gala, Chloe sprained her ankle.

I was about to ask someone to bring over some slippers, but Ethan had already knelt down. He slid my exclusive white sneakers onto Chloe's feet.

"If you give me these shoes, Olivia won't be mad, right?"

Ethan didn't even look up. His tone was incredibly casual.

"They're just shoes. She's not that petty."

"Chloe's ankle is swollen. Just deal with it tonight, Olivia. I'll buy you new ones tomorrow. You can have as many pairs as you want."

The chill of the marble floor seeped through the thin soles of my high heels.

He took it for granted that because we were married, my things were his to give away.

But he forgot.

The person whose shoes were taken... her feet hurt, too.

When we got home, Chloe looked down at the shoes on her feet and wiggled her toes slightly.

"Olivia, your shoes are so comfortable. No wonder Ethan always keeps them ready for you."

I said nothing.

Ethan's voice was flat.

"Just wear them for tonight."

"She has an old ankle injury. She can't just wear any shoes."

Chloe immediately looked up.

"I don't deserve such nice shoes anyway. If Olivia wants them back, I'll take them off right now."

Ethan reached out to stop her and looked at me.

"Olivia, I'll tend to your foot in a minute."

I suddenly remembered many years ago when he first found out about my ankle injury. He had frowned just like this.

Back then, he said, From now on, I will make sure every path you walk is soft.

The path was still the same path.

It was just that he had given the softest part to someone else.

Chloe sat on the sofa, carefully lifting her leg.

"Ethan, where is the first-aid kit? It hurts a bit."

I stood in the entryway, bending over to change into my house slippers.

The back of the heel rubbed against my raw wound, making my fingers tremble.

Ethan looked back and saw this, his footsteps pausing for a second.

Chloe let out a soft gasp.

"It looks even more swollen now."

Ethan ultimately turned toward the living room and pulled the medical kit from the cabinet.

That tube of ointment was the one I frequently used during my physical therapy. My name was still written on the label.

Chloe held it in her hand, looking at it.

"Olivia, can I use this?"

Ethan unscrewed the cap for her.

"It's just ointment."

He handed the ointment to Chloe, then stood up and walked over to me.

"Let me see your foot."

I took a half-step back.

His brow furrowed.

"Olivia, don't start a fight right now."

Chloe immediately spoke up.

"Olivia, please don't misunderstand. Ethan is just helping me out first."

"You two have been together for so many years. You're obviously the one he loves the most."

She sounded so understanding.

But those white sneakers on her feet were blindingly clean.

I looked down at my own feet.

The edge of my high heels had worn my skin raw. A bit of blood was smudged on the edge of my sock. It wasn't much, but it stung badly.

Ethan saw it too.

"Tomorrow, I'll go with you to the store..."

I quietly declined.

"No need."

His movements froze.

"It's just a pair of shoes. Are you really going to hold a grudge over this?"

Chloe gently tugged at his sleeve.

"Ethan, maybe Olivia doesn't care about the shoes. Maybe she cares that you put them on me."

The living room fell silent. Ethan didn't deny it.

I looked up at him.

In the past, whenever anyone said something like that, he would always defend me.

He would tell them that Olivia wasn't petty; she was just injured and knew what pain felt like.

But now, he just rubbed his temples.

"Chloe just got back, and she's not used to a lot of things yet. Just cut her some slack."

Cut her some slack.

I had yielded the guest room, half of my walk-in closet, and my usual spot at the breakfast table.

Now, it was my shoes.

I didn't say another word. I turned and walked back to the bedroom.

Ethan followed me to the door.

"Olivia."

I stopped.

"Tomorrow, I'll have the boutique deliver everything from your favorite brand. Don't throw a fit tonight. Chloe's family just went through a crisis. She can't handle any emotional stress right now."

My hand rested on the doorframe. The throbbing pain in my heel came in waves.

"Ethan, I feel pain too."

He stared at me, looking as if he didn't understand.

Chloe called out softly from the living room.

"Ethan, I think I put too much ointment on."

Ethan looked at me for two seconds before finally turning around.

"Get some rest. Don't overthink things."

After the door closed, I sat on the edge of the bed and peeled my socks off.

The fabric was stuck to the wound. As I tore it away, I bit my lip.

From outside the door, Chloe's giggles drifted in.

"Ethan, Olivia's shoe size is almost the same as mine. Can I keep these shoes for now?"

"I have to meet some clients at the office tomorrow."

Ethan's voice came through the door.

"Just wear them. She has plenty of other shoes."

The next morning, Ethan stood in front of the shoe cabinet.

"Come to the office with me this afternoon. We'll talk about the shoes later."

"Didn't you spend six months designing that dance therapy curriculum for disabled kids? We are finalizing the launch process today."

Chloe walked out of the guest room, wearing my white sneakers.

"Olivia, look. Ethan really cares about you."

Ethan didn't respond to her. He pushed a shoe box to my feet.

"These are similar to the ones from last night. Wear them."

I looked at the shoes in the box.

They were expensive, and very soft.

But they weren't mine.

Seeing that I didn't move, Ethan's tone cooled.

"Olivia, I've already replaced them."

Replaced.

It turned out that to him, some things only required a new package.

I put the shoes on. My heel still hurt, but at least I could walk.

The launch event was on the first floor of the company's exhibition hall.

My curriculum display board was pushed to the very back. The main screen at the front, however, showed Chloe's face.

She was labeled as the "Charity Ambassador."

Chloe walked up from behind and warmly took my arm.

"Olivia, you don't mind, right?"

"I used to take dance lessons too. Although I'm not as professional as you, my family is in a tough spot now. Ethan wanted to give me some exposure to help me start over."

I pulled my hand back.

"This is a rehabilitation project, not your comeback stage."

Chloe's eyes welled with tears instantly.

"I just wanted to help."

"Olivia, do you think I don't deserve to be here?"

Ethan walked over right at that moment.

He looked at Chloe first.

"What's wrong?"

Chloe shook her head.

"Nothing. Olivia probably thinks I don't understand rehabilitation. She's afraid I'll embarrass her."

Ethan looked at me.

"Olivia, Chloe is just reading the script on stage. You're still in charge of the professional execution."

I asked him, "Why didn't you tell me beforehand?"

Ethan's brow furrowed.

"I was afraid you'd overthink it."

"Besides, this isn't a big deal. The successful launch of the project is more important than who stands on stage."

In the past, Ethan knew exactly why I created this project.

After my ankle injury, my biggest fear wasn't that I could no longer dance. It was being pinned down by a casual, "Well, you're broken anyway."

That was why I wanted to give those injured kids a path where they could walk slowly.

But now, he hid my name in a corner and gave all the spotlight to Chloe.

The event coordinator whispered, "Ms. Olivia, are you still going on stage to present the curriculum later?"

Ethan answered for me first.

"Her foot is bothering her. She won't be presenting. Let her manage the backstage flow."

When the launch event started, I sat in the corner of the backstage.

When the slide for the curriculum credits came up, the screen flickered.

The original line: Curriculum Designer: Olivia had been changed to Charity Founder: Chloe.

When Ethan returned backstage, I handed him the run sheet.

"Where is my name?"

He glanced at it.

"The PR department changed it on their own. I'll have them add it back later."

"You have me. Isn't that enough?"

I flipped to the sign-off page.

In the Project Consultant column, Chloe's name was already stamped with the company seal.

My name had been moved to the appendix.

When I returned to the studio, Chloe was standing in front of the mirror practicing her moves, still wearing my white sneakers.

Ethan held a new class schedule in his hands.

"I asked Chloe to shadow a few classes. She needs to familiarize herself with the project."

I took the schedule. My hours had been cut in half, and Chloe's name was scheduled for Saturday morning.

That was the class with the most children.

"Who changed this?"

Ethan said, "I did."

I looked at him.

"Do you even know the condition of these kids' ankles? Do you know which ones can't spin, and which ones can't stand for too long?"

His brow furrowed slightly.

"Olivia, don't make a simple matter sound so dramatic."

"Chloe is just coordinating the promotion. She won't actually be teaching the movements."

Chloe immediately nodded.

"Olivia, I'll listen to you. I'll do whatever you want me to do."

As she spoke, her gaze fell on the glass cabinet in the corner.

Inside the cabinet was an old pair of ballet slippers.

The fabric had yellowed, and the silk ribbons were washed soft.

That was the pair my mom bought for me when I first stood up after my surgery.

She had stroked my head back then and said, It doesn't matter if you can't walk fast. Just being able to walk is enough.

Chloe walked over.

"These shoes have so much history. Can I borrow them for some promo photos?"

I spoke almost instantly.

"No."

Her hand stopped on the cabinet door, and her eyes turned red again.

"Olivia, I just think they're really meaningful. I didn't want to steal them."

Ethan looked at me.

"They're just an old pair of shoes. She'll return them after the shoot."

My tone was resolute.

"My mother gave them to me."

He paused. For a second, I thought he would remember.

He would remember the year I came out of the operating room, crying because I could never dance again, and how he had placed these exact shoes by my bed.

He had said, Olivia, take it slow. I'll help you stand up again.

But Ethan only said, "That makes them even more perfect for the project's background story. People will connect with it more."

Chloe softly added, "Exactly. Olivia's journey can inspire so many people."

I gripped the key to the cabinet. Ethan's face darkened.

"Olivia, are you really going to be this petty over a charity project?"

"Don't embarrass yourself in front of the kids."

The children were standing quietly nearby. Suddenly, I found myself unable to speak.

Ethan reached out and took the key from my palm.

"She'll return them as soon as she's done."

The moment the cabinet door opened, a sharp pain shot through my old ankle injury.

Chloe took out the old ballet slippers.

"Thank you, Olivia. I'll be very careful."

During the shoot that afternoon, she couldn't fit into them.

The shoes were half a size too small.

Chloe looked at Ethan.

"Maybe we should forget it. My feet are a bit wide. Forcing them in will ruin them."

Ethan looked at me.

"Olivia, how did you fit into them back then?"

I said quietly, "Because they're my shoes."

He thought for a moment.

"Cut the silk ribbons off and wrap them around her current shoes. The effect will be the same."

I looked up at him. Chloe had already picked up the scissors.

"Olivia, I really will replace them for you."

Snip.

The old silk ribbons were severed.

I stood frozen, my palms turning ice-cold.

Seeing the expression on my face, Ethan looked as if he wanted to say something.

But Chloe wrapped the ribbons around her sneakers and twirled in front of the mirror.

"Does it look good, Ethan?"

Ethan glanced at her.

"It's fine."

After the shoot, the old ballet slippers were carelessly tossed onto the table.

The fabric had a dusty footprint on it, and the ribbons were reduced to frayed stumps.

I picked them up, rubbing the spot with my thumb for a long time.

But the dirt wouldn't come off.

Ethan walked over.

"I'll have someone restore them."

He reached out to touch them, but I pulled the shoes back into my bag.

Ethan's eyes darkened.

"Olivia, I've noticed you've been getting harder and harder to communicate with lately."

Chloe whispered from the side, "It's all my fault. Olivia probably thinks I stole her memories."

Ethan rubbed his temples.

"Don't let your mind wander."

I grabbed my bag and walked out.

Ethan called after me.

"Come home tonight. We need to talk."

I didn't answer.

After leaving the studio, I sent a message to Lucas.

"Does the rehabilitation center you mentioned still need a curriculum designer?"

The reply came almost instantly.

"Yes. Have you made up your mind?"

I looked at the ruined ballet slippers in my bag.

The next second, Ethan's call came through.

Ethan didn't ask where I had gone.

He only said over the phone:

"Come home early tonight. Chloe's press release needs your sign-off."

I stood on the sidewalk, my ankle wrapped in a cold brace.

When I returned to our historic townhouse, Ethan's PR team was sitting in the living room.

Chloe, wearing the sneakers tied with my ruined silk ribbons, was reviewing the interview outline.

"Olivia, you're finally back."

"Some people online are saying I stole your project. Ethan said it would all blow over if you just clarify things."

Ethan handed me an iPad.

It showed a statement.

The gist of it was that I had voluntarily stepped back from the promotion, and Chloe was simply helping me present the charity work.

The so-called "stealing of shoes and projects" was just a misunderstanding between friends.

After reading it, I placed the iPad back on the table.

"I'm not posting this."

The PR manager's expression shifted.

But Ethan remained calm.

"Olivia, the public backlash has already started. Just say a word. It's better for everyone."

Chloe bit her lip.

"Olivia, I'm really getting dragged online."

"You know my family just went bankrupt. I have nothing left now."

I stared at the ribbons on her feet. Ethan stood up.

"Olivia, enough."

"I replaced the shoes, and you're still working on the project."

"Chloe just needs a temporary opportunity. Why do you have to push her into a corner like this?"

I shot back, "What about you? Have you not pushed me into a corner?"

He stared at me, frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You have the studio, you have Blackwood Enterprises' resources, and you have me."

"What does Chloe have?"

I suddenly found it incredibly laughable.

So having him was, in his eyes, a form of compensation that could wipe away all my grievances.

Ethan handed me his phone.

"Olivia, don't make things difficult for me in front of others."

Chloe said softly, "Ethan, let it go. If Olivia doesn't want to, forget it. I shouldn't have come back anyway."

She stood up to leave but tripped on her feet.

Ethan caught her immediately.

The ribbon-wrapped sneakers struck the leg of the coffee table, ripping the old fabric further.

My mind went completely blank.

Ethan followed my gaze, and his face turned pale for a split second.

But Chloe cried first.

"I'm sorry, I didn't do it on purpose. I'm just so clumsy. I can't do anything right."

Ethan helped her sit down, then turned to me.

"Don't look at her like that."

"Olivia, if you don't post the statement today, I will freeze the funding for the project."

"The studio's lease is under Blackwood Enterprises. Think carefully."

The PR team remained silent.

Chloe kept her head down, but her fingers were tightly gripping the frayed ribbon.

I heard my own voice ask, "So you want me to endorse her lie?"

Ethan said, "It's not an endorsement. It's for the bigger picture."

The bigger picture.

I nodded and took the phone.

Ethan's expression softened as I posted the statement exactly as written.

Within minutes, the comments shifted.

Some praised my generosity.

Some pitied Chloe.

Others said that anyone truly doing charity wouldn't care about getting credit.

Seeing the public opinion die down, Ethan looked relieved.

"Tomorrow, I'll take you to buy shoes. You can pick whatever limited edition you want."

"Olivia, let's stop fighting."

I looked at the smear of ointment on his cuff. I suddenly remembered how he had opened the tube of medicine for Chloe last night.

My heel was still taped with a band-aid, and it still hurt to walk.

But I no longer wanted him to know.

The next day, Ethan actually went to the luxury boutique.

The sales associate lined up ten pairs of limited-edition flats. The colors, leather, and sizes were all chosen according to my taste.

"Wrap them all up," Ethan said.

The associate smiled. "Mr. Blackwood is so good to his wife."

Ethan's fingers paused, but he didn't deny it.

At nine in the evening, he returned to the townhouse carrying ten luxury shoe boxes.

The lights in the living room were off.

He frowned and called out, "Olivia?"

No one answered.

Ethan put the shoe boxes down in the entryway and opened the shoe cabinet.

The row that used to be filled with my shoes was completely empty.

His hands froze.

The door to the walk-in closet was half-open. Only empty hangers remained inside.

My suitcase was gone, my passport was gone, and even the ruined ballet slippers in the glass cabinet were gone.

On the top shelf of the shoe cabinet, only a single key remained.

Beneath the key lay a divorce agreement, signed with my name.

The luxury shoe boxes in Ethan's hands crashed to the floor.