Last Friday was the day I was supposed to pick up my daughter from school.

I showed up an hour early, then waited until it was pitch black outside.

Only then did Valentina call. Sebastian's mom had apparently instructed her to take the kid to the family estate for dinner.

I could hear Sebastian in the background, asking Valentina if she wanted soup.

I threw a fit about it, and Sebastian still had the audacity to accuse me of making a mountain out of a molehill.

Shaking my head, I tried to shake off the nasty memories. I managed a smile:

"Whatever. Looks like the future Mrs. Walker is already taking over household duties, even before the wedding. Picking up my daughter is small potatoes in comparison."

Sebastian seemed to flinch. After a beat of silence, he exploded:

"Natalie! How long are you going to keep this up?!"

I curled up, getting more comfortable on the bed:

"Oh, and don't worry about pregnant women not being able to get a divorce."

"I had a miscarriage."

The day I lost the baby, I took a cab home alone. I called Sebastian like a dozen times on the way.

Zero answers.

I actually thought something might have happened to him and reached out to his mom.

His mom informed me that Valentina's dog was getting fixed that day, and Sebastian had gone with her.

Now, I'm not saying a dog's spay surgery is more important than my miscarriage.

But Valentina? She was definitely more important than me.

Before I could even confront Sebastian,

I got a pair of red high heels delivered from Valentina.

She looked down her nose at me: "Mr. Walker is swamped. He personally picked out this anniversary gift for you and asked me to drop it off."

I just stared at those red high heels, totally blank for a long, long time.

At that point, who had arranged it didn't even matter anymore.

It was all the same to me.

This was our promise, Sebastian's and mine.

We had sworn to each other that red high heels would never, ever be a part of our lives again.

Our meeting wasn't some fairy tale meet-cute. He was this rebellious rich kid, and some school bully was shaking him down for cash.

I stepped in during the scuffle and helped him out.

Later, on my way home, the bully and his crew cornered me. Sebastian came out of nowhere and bashed the bully's head.

In the brutal fight that followed, Sebastian's eye got seriously messed up, and I took such a beating I ended up a bloody mess, unconscious.

Holding my limp body, Sebastian, with only one good eye, carried me halfway across the city.

His eye was already on its last legs, and this injury turned it into a chronic condition that could never be fully healed.

Only physical therapy and massage could offer him some relief.

From that moment on, we developed our own unspoken connection.

I helped him with his studies; he walked me home.

I wanted to help him with his therapy; he found ways to surprise me.

We were rushing towards a future together, becoming each other's guiding light.

I foolishly believed my messed-up life was finally about to turn around.

Until my mom's birthday, the year I turned eighteen. I bought her a pair of red high heels.

My deadbeat, gambling-addicted father saw the shoes and thought my mom had stashed some cash. He went ballistic, beating both of us.

I was beaten within an inch of my life. My mother knelt down and handed him all the tuition money she'd saved for me.

Still not satisfied, he screamed that my education was worthless. He'd already lined up some "boss" and said I was to spend three days with him to rake in a huge sum of cash.

Hearing this, my mother's eyes welled up with tears. This woman, timid and meek her entire life, grabbed a fruit knife from the table in a fit of rage and stabbed that gambling addict to death.

She told me not to be scared and calmly instructed me to go outside and call the cops.

When I got back, she was wearing the red high heels I'd bought her, having hanged herself in the room.

From that day on, I hated the color red, I hated high heels, and I especially hated red high heels.

I told Sebastian, "If you ever want me to leave, just give me a pair of red high heels."