Page 29 of Broken Destiny

My brother and brothers-in-law had already left that morning to return to the city. After dropping our suitcases in the room, the remaining three guys and I rented bicycles and set out to explore the small seaside village.

The place fascinated me.

Rows of eclectic shops lined the streets, each one filled with character and history. Restaurants spilled warm light onto the sidewalks, and old European-style houses stood proudly along the waterfront. The atmosphere felt calm and welcoming, the kind of place where life moved at a slower, more meaningful pace.

As we rode along the narrow streets, I realized I could actually live here. Even if only for short visits or quiet weekend getaways, this place felt like an escape from the noise and pressure of my usual life. I imagined mornings filled with fresh ocean air and evenings spent watching the sun sink beneath the horizon.

I would love it here.

But Tatiana wouldn’t.

She was a city girl through and through—someone who thrived on attention, media coverage, flashing lights, and constant activity.The one vacation we had taken together in the Bahamas had proven that. Despite the beauty of the island, she had wanted to leave after two days. The peaceful silence bored her. Even the most stunning sunrises and romantic sunsets failed to change her mind.

While walking back toward the hotel later that evening, I noticed a restaurant signboard that caught my attention.

Tipsy Cow.

The logo made me laugh out loud—an intoxicated-looking cow holding a beer mug with a wide, ridiculous grin.

“Should we have dinner here?” Bradley asked.

“I guess.” Greg shrugged. “Seems like a nice place. We can give it a try.”

The moment I stepped inside, I loved it.

The colours, the décor, the lively atmosphere—everything about the place felt warm and inviting.

My eyes landed on the pool table in the corner. Something about the place immediately lifted my mood. We started playing a few rounds while ordering snacks and drinks.

A two-piece band performed in the background, their music filling the room with energy. Families, tourists, and couples gradually filled the restaurant, and soon karaoke began among the diners, turning the entire space into a lively celebration.

“You gentlemen new here?”

We all turned toward the voice.

Standing behind us was a round man with bright blue eyes and snow-white hair. His friendly smile and cheerful expression reminded me of my father—and, oddly enough, a little of Santa Claus.

“Yes,” Greg replied. “We’re here celebrating this man’s bachelor party.” He pointed directly at me.

“Congratulations!” the man said warmly, extending his hand. “I’m Jack, the manager of this restaurant. If you boys need anything, just ask.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” I said, shaking his hand. “Thanks.”

I liked him and his demeanour—kind and welcoming.

We returned to our game, laughter filling the space between shots.

“And that’s three-two,” I announced after sinking the final ball. “I’m kicking your ass, man.”

Greg rolled his eyes and ordered a round of tequila shots. Moments later, the drinks arrived, accompanied by small fireworks bursting dramatically beside the tray, courtesy of Jack.

“I like this place,” I said, glancing around at the lively crowd. “I’d like to come back here tomorrow. What do you think?”

“It’s your bachelor party, man,” Greg said. “Whatever makes you happy, makes me happy. Plus, it’ll give me another chance to beat you at pool.”

I scoffed. “In your dreams.”

He grinned, raising his shot glass. “Keep talking. It’ll make the loss hurt less tomorrow.”