“You always seem to find your way back to that tavern the moment you’re free,” she said, her voice tight with frustration. “Why is that? Can’t you just stay home—with me? What’s so irresistible about that place?”
Her husband answered with a grin, a silent attempt to share his point of view. Nights out with his friends brought him simple joy, and without much thought, he extended an invitation for her to join. To his surprise, she agreed—eager, even—for a chance to see what drew him there so often.
As they stepped into the bar, the woman was immediately struck by the sensory overload—the pounding music, the thick haze of cigarette smoke curling in the air, and the relentless laughter that bounced off the walls like echoes in a cavern. It was loud, overwhelming… but she stood her ground.
At the bar, her husband leaned in with a teasing smirk. “What’ll it be, sweetheart?”
She hesitated, uncertain. “I don’t know… I guess I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
With a nod to the bartender, two small glasses appeared—filled with a strong, sharply scented liquor. Without flinching, he knocked back his shot in one swift gulp, barely blinking at the sting.
She studied him, then lifted her own glass. With cautious resolve, she took a sip—only for the bitter burn to hit her tongue like fire. Gagging, she coughed and quickly spat it out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“This is awful!” she gasped. “How do you even drink this stuff?”
He let out a short laugh, eyes gleaming. “And you thought I was out here living it up every night?”
