The frequent appearance of her spouse at a nearby bar was causing annoyance for a frustrated wife.

“You seem to haunt that tavern every moment of your spare time. Why, I wonder? Can’t you stay home and be with me? What makes that place so compelling?” she asked, her voice edged with frustration.

The husband’s grin was his silent attempt to communicate his perspective. A night at the bar with his friends was all it took to bring him joy, and he casually extended an invitation to her, thinking little of it. She, on the other hand, was thrilled at the prospect—finally, a chance to observe her husband in his nocturnal domain.

As they crossed the tavern threshold, the woman was taken aback by the chaotic melody of blaring music and the thick, acrid clouds of cigarette smoke swirling around. The constant roar of laughter, loud and unrelenting, pounded against her ears, yet she stayed, determined.

Approaching the bar, her husband leaned in, a casual smirk on his face. “What’s it going to be, darling?”

She hesitated. “Oh, I’m uncertain… I suppose I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

The husband nodded, signaling the bartender. Two shots of an unforgivingly bitter, robust liquor soon appeared before them. Without missing a beat, he downed his drink in one swift motion, his face unphased by the burn.

The woman watched him closely, resolute. She picked up her glass, brought it to her lips, and took a tentative sip. Instantly, the bitter liquid assaulted her taste buds, and with a grimace, she spat it out in disgust. “This is revolting!” she gasped, coughing and wiping her mouth in dismay. Her eyes burned into her husband. “I honestly cannot fathom how you ingest this!” she exclaimed, visibly shaken by the harshness of the drink.

He chuckled at her reaction, raising an eyebrow. “And you think I’m out here just having the time of my life?” he retorted with a playful smirk.