The first pint went down easily.

That should have been the warning sign.

Gary sat in the pub, basking in the simple pleasure of feeling like himself again. Conversation flowed. Laughter came easily. He ordered food without studying the menu like a legal document. Everything tasted better when it wasn’t accompanied by fear.

Then the ache returned.

At first, it was faint enough to ignore. Gary shifted his jaw, convinced it would pass. He told himself it was just sensitivity. Normal. Temporary.

It wasn’t.

By the time the second pint arrived — which he hadn’t technically planned to order — the pain had sharpened. Focused. Familiar in a way that made his stomach drop.

“Ah,” Gary muttered. “There you are.”

He tried to play it off, but his face betrayed him. Someone asked if he was alright. Gary waved it away, pride doing the talking now.

Outside, the cold air hit him like judgement. The pain spiked hard enough to make him stop walking.

This was public. Visible. Undeniable.

The next day’s emergency appointment was brisk and deeply unamused.

“You celebrated early,” she said flatly.

Gary nodded, unable to argue. The disappointment stung more than the procedure.

Now he had a choice. Own the mistake fully, swallow the embarrassment, and get back on track. Or blame bad luck, bad timing, and anything other than his own impatience.

Own the mistake and recommit properly → Page 81

Blame bad luck and resent being corrected → Page 79