"Why are you still with him?"
"I don't know... there's just something that keeps drawing me back to him."
•••
Tamara thinks she married her best friend. She thinks she found the one.
What she doesn't know might end up killing her.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
You never saw it coming. The blows, constant irritation and the vile insults that accompany, it's always a surprise when it happens. It's never foreseen. But why would it be?
You marry your best friend, father of your unborn children aware of the meaning of this union. A union you involved God in, at least that's what you tell yourself.
Tamara had repeated this to herself, reminiscing on her wedding day, her friends being present to witness her being given away by her brother to him. The swirl of emotions she had swallowed and locked down her throat to avoid bursting before she could utter a word from her vows.
Her vows.
The word tingles at her brain, her manicure scraping against her tea cup, repeatedly gaining her a few stares from her employees and clients alike.
What about his?
Didn't he sa-
"Tam?"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Tamara jolts at the sudden touch on her back, her cup falling to the ground and dissolving to broken glass when she whips around to see Rose staring at her with worry.
Her eyes travel to where Rose's are: the splash of brown covering her dress pants and carpet, whisking away any cleanliness that was once there.
"Is everything okay?" Rose asks as she motions for someone to come clean up the untidiness that now graces the floor.
Tamara stares at her wordlessly, the mess she's made going incognito when she pats Rose's shoulder repeatedly as if to say something through her gesture. She soon realizes her actions will speak for her.
"Can you take over for the day?" She rushes out gawking at her assistant, the smell of toluene mixed with acetone pervading her nostrils.
"Yes, why-"
"Thank you!" She cuts the woman off carefully averting the bronze liquid on the ground and makes her away pass the door, the familiar dingle of the bell marking that someone has either entered or exited the premises.
