Chapter 1

I was working part-time at a designer shoe store when I saw Ethan Ashford again. He had gone abroad three years ago, and I thought he'd never come back. Now, he stood right in front of me with a stunning woman at his side. The woman was elegance personified. I kept the smile on my face and delivered a sales pitch like I was on autopilot. "Hi there. We're running a Valentine's promotion—buy any two pairs, any style, and get two percent off." The woman beside Ethan looked effortlessly graceful, but her attitude reeked of entitlement. "Is that so? Then, bring me a few pairs from the latest collection." Meanwhile, Ethan sank into the couch in the VIP lounge, stretching his long legs like he owned the place. I crouched to help her try on a pair of heels. I instinctively tugged at the hem of my uniform pants, not wanting anyone to notice the stiff outline of my prosthetic leg. I had always been good at hiding it. But that day, I was especially careful. Suddenlt, without warning, the woman shrieked and kicked my hand away. "What the hell are you doing? You hurt me!" she snapped. "Look at your hands. They're like sandpaper. Be careful, or you'll ruin my feet!" At her comment, I couldn't help but glance at my hands. She wasn't wrong. After working eight jobs a day, they were far from delicate. Back then, Ethan used to put lotion on my hands between classes. He always said a woman's hands should be soft. Without thinking, my gaze drifted to him. He was flipping through a magazine, completely unbothered. It was as if nothing had happened. "I'm so sorry," a co-worker jumped in quickly, trying to smooth things over. "She's just part-time and still learning. Let me help you with those." I had already slipped away to grab more shoes, but the woman wasn't letting it go. She rolled her eyes at me and spat, "Thanks for ruining my day. What a buzzkill." Her words hit hard. My chest tightened, and my hands hovered awkwardly at my sides. That was when Ethan finally stood and strolled over. He leaned in close, bracing his arms on either side of the woman. "What's wrong? Who upset you?" he asked gently, his lips close to her ear. Back when we were together, he used to speak to me like that after a fight. He'd sneak up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, whispering, "Who pissed you off, Kendall? Do you want me to deal with them?" Yet, that tenderness and patience weren't mine anymore. His coaxing probably worked because the woman's expression softened. A beat later, a blush crept into her cheeks as she said, "Forget it. I won't make a scene. Just wrap up these two black heels and charge them under his card." … At the register, Ethan calmly handed me his card. His handsome face gave nothing away, as if we'd never even met. That was when I realized the opposite of love wasn't hate. It was indifference. I glanced down at my leg. Then, out of nowhere, I let out a soft chuckle. What was I even hoping for? At the end of the day, I was just a woman with a disability. Everything was in the past. And besides, I was the one who ended things with Ethan.