I refused to buy a pair of boots because since we’re only here on a holiday, I thought it’d be a waste of money. I have big plans to spend that money at the baby section in Harrods and nothing else (not even a handbag ok!!….Sigh, being the selfless person I am, you know…)
So I’ve been wearing my ballet flats everywhere (covered shoes, whatttt) and pretending I’m alright.
But London is so freaking cold right now that today I just couldn’t pretend anymore without turning into ice. While Dean and I were walking around Knightsbridge, I stopped abruptly.
“I’m sorry baby I really need a pair of boots…”
Dean smiled and just led me to the nearest store.
Coming out from that store, I was all smiles.
“Thank you baby, the world is bright again,” I sighed at him squeezing his hand while I skipped to Sloane Street in my beautiful new boots.
After 15 minutes of walking around, I started to feel immense pain on my feet. Uh-oh… I think I’m bleeding at my foot. Cannot let Dean know, just smile and shut up. So I did.
After 10 seconds of that, I started to limp because the pain was getting too much.
“What’s wrong?” Dean asked.
“I’m sorry baby I need my ballet flats back. These new boots hate my feet.”
We sat and took off my boots and there it was. Skin tore off and blood almost came out from my foot.
Stupid new boots. I should’ve bit them first before wearing them if I wasn’t so conscious of the saleswoman.
Without even getting annoyed that he had to get me new shoes and they turned out to be a waste, Dean just held me tight while we hailed a cab back.
I really really love him.