Chapter 3 HER BETRAYAL

The sun, burnt out from the day's toil, dipped lazily beneath the hills of Pherros, painting the sky in streaks of bruised purple and fading gold. A breeze crept over the earth like a thoughtful sigh, neither cold nor warm, simply present, as if even the weather had resigned itself to routine. The town exhaled-shops shuttered, streetlights flickered to life, and the distant hum of cicadas filled the spaces between silence.

Jake shuffled into the Bull Bar, his boots tracing patterns in the dirt like an old record repeating a sad tune. The place was the same as always-wooden beams warped by age, a stale scent of spilled beer and roasted peanuts, and that dim yellow light that cast the whole interior in a permanent sepia tone. Locals crowded the usual corners, their laughter thick with drink and sorrow, their voices weaving into the low hum of the jukebox playing some half-forgotten country ballad.

He found Devin at their spot-a round table set beside the glass wall that overlooked the street, now dimly lit by flickering yellow streetlamps. Devin gave him the usual nod, a silent acknowledgment between men who had shared too many bottles and too many regrets. A couple of the regulars-Luke and Max-were already halfway through a bottle of whiskey, and from the glassy sheen in their eyes, it wasn't their first.

Jake sank into his chair like a man dropping into a familiar grave. "Evening," he muttered.

Devin slid a mug toward him, the dark liquid sloshing slightly. "Rough day?"

Jake took a long gulp before answering. "Same as every other. Work, sweat, and a bottle waiting at the finish line." He stared into his drink, watching the amber liquid catch the light. "But hell, I've been carrying this baggage for too long. Maybe it's time I just laid it out."

Max, a burly man with a permanent five o'clock shadow, leaned forward, curiosity already pulling him in. "Laid what out?"

Jake chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "My past, man. The real mess. The kind that sticks to your ribs." He rubbed his temple, as if the memories themselves were pressing against his skull. "My mom's therapist told me to lay it all out to people I trust. And I don't know anyone else in Pherros but you guys."

Luke, a wiry man with a cigar perpetually dangling from his lips, exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "Let's hear it, then. We're here for each other, anyway."

Jake took another swig, then leaned back, his eyes lost somewhere between the wooden beams of the ceiling and the memories clawing at his heart.

"It all started eight years ago," he began, voice low. "Mom died. And it wasn't just a death-it was like someone ripped the sun out of my sky. She was... everything. My best friend. My peace. After she passed, I didn't think I'd make it through college. Lost weight. Lost focus. Nearly lost my damn mind."

The table grew quiet. Even the distant clatter of glasses and the murmur of other patrons seemed to fade into a dull hum.

"But then she came. Susan." Jake's voice softened, as if speaking her name still carried a ghost of tenderness. "Man, she was like a walking miracle-smile that could lift the devil from his throne, eyes you'd swear were born to heal. She was there through it all. Every breakdown, every night I cried myself to sleep. I thought, This-this is what love is supposed to look like."

He paused, took a long drink, then poured more whiskey into his mug. The liquid glowed like molten gold under the bar's dim light.

"We dated for three years. Got married. Two months in-bam-she hits me with it. Wants a divorce. Says she never loved me. Just saw potential." He scoffed. "Turns out a friend of hers told her about me-some 'up-and-coming writer with big checks in the mail.'"

"Damn," Max muttered, shaking his head.

Jake laughed, but it was hollow. "She said she needed a way out of her own mess-debts, loans, life crashing down around her-and I was the golden goose. And you know what's worse?"

Luke leaned forward, his cigar forgotten in his hand.

"She used my name to take out loans. Sold off my properties to pay 'em back. House, car, investment accounts-gone. I gave her everything. Trusted her with my accounts, passwords, everything."

The weight of it hung in the air, thick as the bar's smoke.

"Next thing I knew, I was flat broke, chased out of my own damn apartment. Had to crawl back to my dad." Jake's fingers tightened around his mug. "That's when I shut down. Stopped writing. Stopped trying. The job at LTN was my last shot, and even that went to hell. Two years I just sat, drank, and watched my life burn from the inside out."

Silence held the table for a long moment. The clinks of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter from other patrons felt distant, muffled, as if the four of them existed in a pocket of the world where only the raw truth mattered.

Devin finally broke the quiet. "Man, I'm sorry. That's... that's tough."

Jake gave a tired nod. "Just needed to say it out loud."

"Well," Devin said, swirling his drink, "you ain't alone in that mess. My last girl? Supported her through university. Paid her rent, bought her textbooks, even got her a damn laptop. The moment she graduated and landed a job, she dumped me and offered to 'repay every dime.' Like I was some bank with a broken heart."

Luke let out a dry chuckle. "Women, man. My ex-wife ran our business into the ground. Took the company credit, maxed it out on designer bags and 'business dinners'-which, surprise surprise, turned out to be dates with her yoga instructor. Took the kids too. I didn't just lose a wife-I lost a whole damn life."

Jake looked at them, surprise flickering behind his tired eyes. "Guess I'm not the only fool then."

Max shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first, and sure as hell won't be the last. But here's the thing-you still breathing. That means you've got a shot."

Jake smiled faintly. "A shot at what?"

"Whatever the hell you want," Luke said. "New start, new dream, even just peace. But you gotta stop burying it under booze, man."

Jake looked at him with an amused expression. "Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

Luke grinned, raising his glass. "I'm different. I drink to clear my head, if you know what that means." He leaned in. "But in your situation? Hell, most people would've done the same."

Jake swirled the drink in his mug, watching the liquid spiral. "Yeah. I don't know. I just couldn't believe it. Everything happened so fast-felt like some fast-paced storyline."

Devin chuckled. "Life, buddy. Life is so."

Jake blinked slowly, his head swaying now. The whiskey had settled deep, blurring the edges of the room. "I think I'm gonna pass out."

"You do that," said Luke, clapping him on the shoulder. "We'll make sure you get home."

Jake slumped against the backrest, eyes closed, and for the first time in a long while, the corners of his lips curled up-not in joy, but in acceptance. The kind that comes when a man cracks open his chest and lets out the rot.

The bar noise returned, glasses clinked, laughter resumed. But for Jake, the night had reached its climax. And perhaps, just perhaps, tomorrow might not be as heavy.

Outside, the night deepened, the stars blinking above the little town of Pherros like curious eyes. And in the Bull Bar, beneath aging lights and old friends, one man finally let go.

---

The Walk Home

Later-much later-Devin and Luke hauled Jake out of the bar, his arms slung over their shoulders, his boots dragging in the dirt. The cold night air bit at their skin, sharp and sobering.

"Damn, he's heavier than he looks," Luke grunted.

Devin adjusted his grip. "Yeah, well, grief'll do that to a man."

They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds their footsteps and Jake's occasional mumbling.

"You think he'll be alright?" Devin asked finally.

Luke sighed. "Dunno. But he ain't alone. That's something."

Devin nodded. "Yeah. That's something."

And under the watchful gaze of the moon, they carried him home.