It was another evening in Pherros, and the sun, burnt out from the day's toil, dipped lazily beneath the hills. 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.
Jake shuffled into 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 place in a permanent sepia tone. Locals crowded the usual corners, their laughs thick with drink and sorrow.
He found Devin at their spot—a round table set beside the glass wall that overlooked the street lit dimly by yellow streetlamps. Devin gave him the usual nod. A couple of the regulars—Luke and Max—were already halfway through a bottle, and from the look of things, it wasn't their first.
Jake sank into his chair like a man dropping into a familiar grave. "Evening," he muttered.
"Rough day?" Devin asked, pouring him a mug of something dark and bitter.
Jake took a gulp before answering. "Same as every other. Work, sweat, and a bottle waiting at the finish line." He stared into his mug. "But hell, I've been carrying this baggage for too long. Maybe it's time I just laid it out."
Max leaned forward, curiosity already pulling him in. "Laid what out?"
Jake chuckled bitterly. "My past, man. The real mess. The kind that sticks to your ribs. My mom's therapist told me to lay it all out to people I trust. I know no other people that you guys in Pherros so here I am."
He took another swig, then leaned back, his eyes lost somewhere between the wooden beams of the ceiling and the memories clawing at his heart.
"Let's hear it bro. We are here for each other anyway."
"It all started eight years ago. Mom died. And it wasn't just a death—it was like someone ripped out the sun from my sky. She was... everything. My best friend. My peace. After she passed, I didn't think I'd make it through college, honestly. Lost weight, lost focus. Nearly lost my mind."
The table grew quiet. Even the distant bar music faded to a hum.
"But then she came. Susan. Man, she was like a walking miracle—smile that could lift the devil from his throne and 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.'"
Jake paused, took a long drink, then poured more.
"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. Said a friend of hers told her about me, some up-and-coming writer with big checks in the mail."
"Damn," Max whispered.
Jake laughed, but there was no joy in it. "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."
He let the weight of it hang in the air. "Next thing I knew, I was flat broke, chased out of my apartment. I had to crawl back to my dad. 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 moment. The clinks and laughter from the rest of the bar faded into white noise.
Devin finally broke the silence. "Man, I'm sorry. That's tough."
Jake gave a tired nod. "Just needed to say it out loud."
"Well," Devin said, "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 doing right now?"
"I am different. I drink to clear my head if you know what that means," said Luke. " But in your situation I think most people would have done the same."
Jake swirled the drink in his mug. "Yeah. I don't know. I just couldn't believe it. Everything happened so fast—it felt like a fast-paced storyline."
Devin chuckled. "Life, buddy. Life is so."
Jake blinked slowly, his head swaying now. "I think I'm gonna pass out."
"You do that," said Luke. "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.
The night outside 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.