My Husband Always Gave Me Red Tea at Night — Until I Found Out It Wasn’t Tea.

I never imagined there was something strange about the midnight tea.

At first, I didn’t question it. Every night, he would bring it, warm, gently steaming in the same cup.

“Drink this, love,” he would say softly, smiling.

And every time, I drank it. It was almost tasteless.

But soon, I started to notice something odd.

Every night, before making the tea, he would step outside for a few minutes. Then he’d come back in, walk straight to the kitchen, and return with that same cup.

But I never once saw him drink from it.

One evening, after serving me, I asked, “How about yours? I’ve never seen you drink this tea.”

He smiled. “I’ve already had mine. This one’s for you.”

I wanted to respond, but he leaned in, kissed my forehead, and whispered, “I love you.”

I smiled back. “I love you too.”

But that night, I didn’t feel like drinking it.

He noticed. His expression shifted, almost worried.

He laughed a little, teased me, and somehow… I still drank it.

Days passed. The same routine. The same cup. The same tea.

And every night, he went outside first.

Finally, I decided to find out what was really behind it.

That night, like always, he said he was going to check the car. This time, I quietly followed.

He walked toward the backyard, glancing over his shoulder to be sure no one was watching.

Then he bent down behind the shed.

My heart pounded.

I leaned forward, holding my breath.

Then I saw it, I froze.

“Oh my God…” I whispered to myself.

So this red tea wasn’t ordinary.

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