PlotlumeThe light turned red for the third time, and my boyfriend shook off my hand again.
He turned and took the hand of the junior intern behind us.
“Avery's wearing thin heels. She can barely stand. Just cross with the crowd. What's the big deal?”
I said I couldn't read the traffic lights.
He laughed. “Color-blind doesn't mean blind. The light's huge. Even guessing, you'd get it right once, wouldn't you?”
The intern swung one foot. “Take your time, sis. Tyler queued for two hours for these shoes.”
In three years together, I couldn't distinguish red from green, yet I had never taken a wrong step.
Because I had long since learned a skill: watch people, not lights.
When the crowd surged forward, I stopped.
I watched their retreating backs—one supporting her with exquisite care, the other laughing delightedly.
So in his heart, my life wasn't worth as much as her shoes.
My phone buzzed. Mom: “Sweetheart, that young man I mentioned—would you at least meet him?”
I replied yes.
Color-blind people misread lights.
But they had misread me.
1
“Walking that slowly—were you trying to make everyone laugh at Avery?”
The private-room door at the Japanese restaurant had barely closed when Tyler Tyler spoke.
He took off his suit jacket and casually handed it to Avery Stanton behind him.
His tone was displeased.
“It was just a road. You had to stand in the middle of the crossing and daydream.”
“Avery's new shoes rubbed her heels raw while she waited for you.”
My hand paused as I pulled out a chair.
I looked down at my faded canvas sneakers.
The intersection had been crowded.
Without his hand to guide me, delivery riders on electric scooters had knocked me off balance.
My knee had struck the stone edging of the planted verge. It still throbbed.
But he hadn't seen.
His eyes had stayed on Avery's high heels.
“I'm sorry, Ava.”
Avery sat beside him, speaking in a delicate little voice.
“Tyler just cares about these shoes. He did queue for ages to get them.”
“Don't be angry with him. I'll apologize for him.”
She reached for the teapot to pour some water.
Tyler naturally took it from her and poured her a cup.
“What are you apologizing for? You didn't do anything wrong.”
He pushed the cup toward her.
Then looked up at me.
“Ava Brennan, you're in a strange mood today.”
“Is it because I bought Avery shoes and didn't buy you any?”
He tapped the table, his voice steady.
“I explained this. Avery just became permanent staff. She needs good shoes to look the part.”
“You spend your days in the studio. Canvas shoes are most comfortable.”
“Buying you heels would be a waste.”
I looked at his face.
For three years, he had always used seemingly faultless logic to make his favoritism sound perfectly reasonable.
I pulled out the chair farthest from him and sat.
“I'm not angry.”
I took a sip of the ice water before me.
“I just couldn't see the light properly, so I was slow.”
Tyler frowned.
My calmness seemed unfamiliar to him.
In situations like this, I used to argue with reddened eyes.
Demanding to know why he always overlooked me.
Then he would sigh helplessly, pat my head, and say I was being unreasonable.
It always ended with me giving in and apologizing.
But today, the shouting he expected never came.
“Good, as long as you're not angry.”
He looked away and summoned a server.
“Avery has a delicate stomach. Let's order something light.”