Someone Else's Shoes: A Novel Novels & Stories

He doesn't like to see me dressed up like most women. I got up from the chair in front of my dressing table and opened my shoe cabinet. I looked at a pair of shiny colored shoes. I liked those shoes. But because Martin didn't like styles that attracted too much attention from people, I could only keep them in the closet even though I had bought them. My heart ached every time I opened the shoe cabinet and had to choose another pair of shoes because I didn't want Martin to get angry and think I didn't follow his words.

A man in horn-rimmed glasses smirked into his cocktail. My nails bit into my palms hard enough to leave crescent moons. "Don't react. Don't give them the satisfaction." But then Alessandra's gaze flicked to my shoes dyed black Payless heels with the soles reglued three times. "Oh my God." Her laughter rang out, high and shrill as a car alarm. "Are those from the "children's" section?" Something inside me "snapped."

“They know you were in an accident. Daisy explained. They know about the cast and the stitches. Chloe’s been researching broken bones on her tablet and she has opinions.” “Of course she does.” Estelle opened the door. My shoes were in the hallway. She’d put them there. A pair of loafers I’d left here weeks ago, sitting between Lucas’s blue Velcro ones and Chloe’s scuffed white sneakers. I stood in the doorway looking at my shoes beside theirs and something in my chest did a thing that had nothing to do with broken ribs. Lucas appeared at the end of the hallway. He was in jeans and a shirt Chloe must have picked out because it had a beetle print that was absolutely his taste.

We ended up in the back corner eventually. The two armchairs with the lamp between them, both of us with books, the shop quiet around us and the city entirely absent beyond the walls. I'd kicked my shoes off at some point, which was absolutely not allowed in a bookshop but we were the only people here and the owner had retreated entirely and I felt no guilt about it. I read three chapters of my terrible-decisions book. Zyran read something dense and probably strategic that he'd found in a section I hadn't visited.

She felt a deep connection to him, a sense of security that she had never experienced before. In a cozy corner of her family's living room, Serena sat cross-legged on the floor, gently cradling the exquisite pair of figure-skating shoes in her hands. The intricate design, the attention to detail—it was a work of art, a testament to the craftsmanship and thoughtfulness that had gone into creating them. Her heart swelled with delight as she admired the delicate stitching and the glint of crystals that adorned the shoes. It was as if a piece of magic had been woven into the fabric, a touch of enchantment that made her feel as though she was holding a piece of her dreams.

They all wore smiles on their faces, but he could tell that not everyone was happy with him. Currently, he was the one person who was doing so well in his company and many others were envious and sad about that fact. “You did great”, One commended with a smile the minute he took a seat beside her. He nodded his head calmly and just then she wore a frown. “My shoe is spoilt”, she informed as she turned her gaze to the shoe that laid on the ground. Alexander turned his eyes to the shoe and for a moment, found it difficult to believe his eyes. He had just gotten the shoes for her the day before they came for the conference. How was it possible that it got spoilt already?

Her happiness is more important than my own. Seeing Aaron’s car in the driveway I frown getting out of my car. I walk into our house; my frown only deepens when I notice the assistant’s shoes on the floor. She’s been wearing the same Jimmy Choo’s for way too damn long. The fact that the heel hasn’t fallen off or the shoe itself isn’t damaged. As I walk further into the house I feel like steaming. Her bra laying on my fucking sofa is enough to have me wanting to cut off his balls.

I thought of keeping the bra on for a moment but thought better of it and removed the bra as well. Naked, except for the panties, I spotted the shoes he had referred to. They were work boots really and quite worn. They belonged to someone else, I surmised, at least at one time. I don't think they were Gebhard's. I slipped them on. They were a size or two too big and without socks, not very comfortable. None-the-less, it was better than getting my own shoes ruined by working outside.

He should wait just like my mother would wait for him every night while he fucks another woman outside. He could rage, threaten, wave his power in my face but I wasn’t playing that game anymore. Not when my hands were already full trying not to ruin the ‘thing’ Jensyn had brought into this house. Fuck him for all I care. *** My eyes trailed the rows of shoes and all I saw were the shoes on my rack at home. There wasn't any option to pick because I couldn't get two pairs of the same shoe. I turned from the rack to another.

I wanted to feel the ground beneath me leading me to my future, leading me to my future husband and mate, the person who would love and cherish me, always. “I’m sorry, dear,” the lady rushed out quietly. I wiped the stray tear that tried taking all my little traitor emotions with it on a stroll through pity town, population: one. “It’s perfectly fine,” I smiled the best I could for her, “it’s a surprise. How about…” “These,” Corbyn watches as one of the other women swap places with the older lady in front of me and slips on the shoes he’s chosen. They’re encrusted with tiny gems, and when they slip onto my foot, it’s as if they made them just for me.