Chapter 5

In the evening, Annalise updated her story. "I want it, I got it."

The photo depicted a series of dishes that Tamara had gotten used to eating for the past three years. In the bottom left corner, a hand could be seen. Custom cufflinks with Annalise's name shimmered on his sleeves.

Tamara's phone lit up with a text from Braxton.

"I'm working overtime tonight, babe. Be a good girl and go have dinner first."

Tamara opened the fridge. Braxton had always told Edna not to hoard food in advance for the sake of their health. She bought the ingredients she needed fresh daily. As a result, the only thing left in their fridge was a bowl of mac-and-cheese.

Clearly, this had slipped Braxton's mind.

After a simple dinner, Tamara got under the covers, but she couldn't fall asleep. The familiar yet terrifying feeling of suffocation gradually took over her. Rolling up her sleeves, Tamara realized that rashes had appeared all over her arms. It was an allergic reaction.

A few memories flashed across Tamara's head. Not long ago, Edna had made peanut stew for Annalise. This time, she'd accidentally used the same pot to reheat her mac-and-cheese.

As her consciousness faded, Tamara blacked out before falling off her bed.

In the endless darkness, she was plunged into a dream, travelling back in time to the day her father, Charlie Winslow, passed. Braxton had been overseas negotiating an important deal.

"I'll come home right now," insisted Braxton.

"No need. Whatever you're handling is more important." Tamara sat in Charlie's bedroom. She had cried so much to the point where she felt as though her eyes had dried.

"Wait for me." Braxton didn't hang up the phone.

In the morning, when Tamara startled awake, she mumbled into the phone instinctually, "Are you still there, Brax?"

Almost instantaneously, he replied, "I am."

The door burst open. Braxton strode in and embraced her.

"Don't cry. I'll take care of you in Mr. Winslow's place."

Back then, it was as though he had tunnel vision whenever it came to her. The whole world mattered less to him than a single tear of hers.

However, no matter how deeply he loved her, love ultimately lost to novelty.

"Be gentle! Didn't you see her furrow her brows?"

The noise dragged Tamara out of her dreams. She felt a prick on the back of her hand.

Annalise simpered, "It was my fault. I got hungry and asked Edna to cook for me. That's why Tamara accidentally ingested peanuts."

"It's not your fault. Tamara was just being too careless. Edna has made you your favorite peanut biscuits. Be a good girl and go back."

Braxton coaxed Annalise till she left. The second the door shut, he leaned over Tamara's bed. When he realized that she'd woken up, his eyes lit up.

"Are you feeling better, Tamara?" He grabbed her hand that didn't have an IV drip attached to it.

"You terrified me. I walked into our room to see you lying prone on the floor. I've made them change out all the cooking utensils. There won't be any more peanuts, I promise."

Tamara stared at him absentmindedly. She didn't point out why there were peanuts in the house in the first place.

Coldly, she requested, "I'd like to drink Edna's soup."

"Have you forgotten? Edna went home. The nutritionist I hired will be here in a few days. She's more professional than Edna. You'll like her."

Eyes darkening, Tamara smiled self-depreciatingly.

"Really? How lucky of me."

Braxton pressed his lips against the back of her hand, every bit as devoted as he used to be.

"Of course. I'd fly to the sky and get you a star if that was what you wanted."

Tamara drew her hand out of his grasp silently and turned away.

Braxton could give her everything, but only if it was something Annalise would scorn.

In loving him, she'd done nothing wrong, but boy, did she regret it.