She set down the milk and turned to leave, her back looking frail and aggrieved.
Milford stared at the glass of milk, his expression unreadable.
...
The next night, when Milford returned, he found an exquisite late-night snack on the nightstand, accompanied by a note with elegant handwriting.
[Milford, remember to eat even when work is busy. - Tamara]
He stared at the note, his expression complex.
For several days in a row, Tamara used these methods, waiting up for Milford until midnight every night.
Gloria watched all of this coldly, feeling a vague sense of unease. She spoke to Milford privately. "That woman is suddenly being so attentive. There must be something wrong. Don't be fooled by her."
Milford replied indifferently, "I know."
But Tamara's gentle offensive didn't stop. She began preparing different breakfasts for him every day. Having known him for years, she knew his taste preferences perfectly.
Gradually, Milford's attitude toward Tamara subtly shifted under her persistent soft approach. At the very least, he no longer looked at her with the same hostility he would show an enemy.
...
Late that night, in the Sherwood kitchen.
Tamara stood in front of the stove, holding a small spoon, gently stirring the steaming hangover broth in the pot. Her gaze fell on the unassuming small vial in the corner of the counter. It was the "good stuff" Zadie had given her.

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