On the day of the interview, Braxton and Tamara wore matching outfits. They took their seats, with Braxton holding Tamara's hand the entire time.

When the talk show host asked about details of their relationship, Braxton answered every question flawlessly. He even took time to adjust the cushion behind her back.

"From childhood sweethearts to walking down the aisle, and your relationship is still going as strong as ever—you're truly a model couple. I'm sure there will be even more happiness in your future—"

Suddenly, a loud crash cut the host off mid-sentence, and everyone turned toward the noise.

Annalise stood stiffly beside a collapsed flower stand, while her supervisor jabbed a finger at her and scolded her in a hushed, angry voice.

Almost instantly, Braxton let go of Tamara's hand and strode over.

"You're fired," he snapped.

His gaze was fixed on Annalise's red and swollen forearm, but his words were directed at the manager.

"When a subordinate makes a mistake, the supervisor bears responsibility as well," Braxton continued, not giving the manager any chance to argue. "Besides, treating an employee like this in public damages the company's image."

Tamara remained in her seat, acutely aware of how everyone's gaze was darting back and forth between her and Annalise. But she maintained a perfectly composed smile the entire time.

When the interview resumed, Braxton was clearly distracted.

The host paused, taken aback. "Mr. Merrick, you got your wedding anniversary wrong."

The hand holding Tamara's suddenly tightened, and Braxton instinctively looked at her. He quickly explained, "That's because Tamara always says we're so happy that every day feels like we're newlyweds."

A wave of admiring cheers erupted from the audience.

But Tamara knew the truth. The date Braxton had blurted out on instinct was his anniversary with Annalise.

In this multiple-choice question called love, she had already become the option that was crossed out.

Tamara gave a small smile. While taking a sip of water, she quietly withdrew her hand from his and never put it back.

For the final segment, Braxton was supposed to carry her on his back through a wall of flowers. But just as she wrapped her arms around his neck, Annalise, standing nearby, suddenly keeled over.

Before Tamara could even react, the support beneath her vanished. She stumbled and fell, scraping her knees badly on the gravel.

Meanwhile, Braxton had already scooped Annalise into his arms and rushed toward the exit.

Behind them, with the cameras still rolling, only Tamara's lone, disheveled figure remained in the frame.

The staff helped her up and took her to the hospital as well.

…

In the hospital room, tears streamed down Annalise's pale face.

"You should hurry back to Ms. Winslow," she said. "Don't let me get in your way of shooting a romance documentary."

Braxton frowned. "Why are you throwing a tantrum? Tamara and I only came on this show for company publicity. It's all work. We have a partnership with Winslow Group."

However, this only made Annalise cry even harder. She threw her arms around his waist and wailed, "It's all my fault. I'm useless. I'm of no help to you at all!"

"What nonsense are you talking about? You've already given me everything. And I can't give you anything other than a title that can never be made public," Braxton said, stroking her hair tenderly. "I'm the one who's wronged you."

Tamara stood outside the room, feeling her world spin. But she understood that being hurt by the truth was still better than being comforted by lies.

Annalise's voice continued to drift through the door.

"I really do love Edna's cooking. If only I could eat it every day."

Braxton cupped her face and wiped away her tears. "That's easy enough."

That night, Edna reheated dinner three times before Braxton's car finally pulled into the driveway.

When he saw the white bandage wrapped around Tamara's leg, it seemed to finally register that he had caused her to get hurt earlier in the day. He held her in his arms and apologized over and over again. Then he went into the kitchen and personally cooked a few of her favorite dishes himself.

"I'll make it up to you by cooking for you from now on, babe. That'll be my punishment."

Edna laughed. "Wouldn't that mean I'll be out of a job then?"

Early the next morning, Edna came to say her goodbyes to Tamara.

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.

When Tamara was discharged, Braxton held a celebratory banquet in their home. He invited a few nutritionists to prepare various dishes.

Braxton placed a hand on her waist.

"Everyone else will only be able to eat dishes you've approved and tried. If not, they're prohibited from even touching it. Then, choose the nutritionist you like."

Braxton's gentleness no longer made her heart flutter. She allowed him to lead her into the hall. The second she stepped in, she became the center of attention.

Annalise was pushed into a corner, but her eyes were boring holes into Tamara. Once, Annalise had been the center of attention at an event like this as well. How had she fallen from grace to the point of only being allowed to eat Tamara's leftovers? If looks could kill, Tamara would've been dead.

One of the nutritionists brought out a new plate of desserts and placed it beside. Suddenly, a loud clink disrupted the peaceful atmosphere. Everyone turned around to see that a bite had been taken out of the cake in front of Annalise.

"Ms. Prescott, Mrs. Merrick hasn't tasted that dessert yet," someone pointed out.

Calmly, Annalise put her fork down and said, "My apologies. I was just too hungry."

Then, she slowly took a second piece out of the cake.

Whispers erupted around her.

"Where's this little rascal from?"

"How could she disobey the rules set out…"

"How did she even get in here?"

As everyone tensed, Tamara was overcome by exhaustion. Braxton was already hers. Did she really need to claim ownership of a cake as well?

Walking over, Tamara dismissed the onlookers by saying, "It's alright. There's no need to follow the rules so strictly. Just enjoy yourselves. I'm a little tired, so…"

Before Tamara realized what was happening, she fell into the huge cake with Annalise. When Tamara scrambled to her feet, her dress and hair were covered in sticky cream.

"What happened?"

Braxton immediately rushed over and pulled out a handkerchief to help Tamara clean up. However, he was too rough. When he wiped over the needle wound where Tamara had been given the IV drip, she let out a noise from the pain.

He stopped and turned to Annalise.

"You like the cake, right? Take the nutritionist who made this cake, then. You're forbidden from firing her. She'll finish her three year contract with you, and she's not to take a day off. I'll be watching."

The guests gasped in surprise.

"This is a Vichelin-starred foreign cook, right? How could she afford it?"

"She'll probably be sobbing every time she eats it."

"When she took a piece of the cake, she should've known that this would happen."

Annalise froze. In the end, she left with teary eyes. Tamara would've believed their act if she hadn't picked up on Braxton's concerned, longing gaze.

While Annalise couldn't afford it, Braxton certainly could.

Tamara felt as though all her strength had been sapped from her. She turned to go back and rest, but Braxton pulled her into a corner.

"Why are you getting mad at her? She's just a little hungry rascal."

"I'm not mad."

Tamara's calm demeanor set Braxton off.

"Right. You weren't mad. You just punished her on the spot."

Tamara's head snapped up. She met his glazing eyes. Any trace of the warmth he'd displayed at the banquet was gone.

"What do you mean by that? Do you think I'd intentionally pushed her into the cake with me?"

Although Tamara found it ridiculous, she tried to keep her voice level.

"Go and check the surveillance footage."

Frowning in annoyance, Braxton said, "You know I'll never investigate it when it comes to you. That being said, Tamara, don't play these tricks out of jealousy. It's very out of character for you."

Tamara stared into Braxton's eyes, studying her warped reflection. This was utterly absurd. Braxton, who'd once flown across the world just because she told him she missed him, could no longer be bothered to even hear her out.

"You don't believe me, Braxton," said Tamara softly. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. She was sure.

When Braxton's phone began buzzing in his pocket, he got into his car without looking back.

With the hosts gone, the guests dispersed unhappily.

Tamara sat back down and picked up her fork. She chewed and swallowed, repeating the motions mechanically until she could no longer stomach any of it. Rushing to the bathroom, she threw up. In the end, the pill she'd taken to regulate her emotions was flushed down the toilet as well.