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

I never knew that my husband stepping out every night was because of it, and that he made sure I drank it, no matter what.

That night, I stood outside by the corner of the house, peeking.

I saw him stretch his hand forward, as if collecting something from someone.

I leaned closer, trying to see, but it was too dark.

Something didn’t feel right.

A moment later, my husband started to stand, and I quickly slipped back inside, pretending to be watching a movie.

My mind raced.

Who was he talking to?

What did he collect?

Did I even know the man I married?

I tried to calm myself… but something inside whispered, “You need to find out the truth.”

When he finally came back inside and saw me, he quickly slipped his hand into his pocket. That was when I knew, he was hiding something.

He smiled lightly.

“Oh honey,” he said, “I’ll join you soon to watch the movie. It looks interesting.”

I didn’t respond.

He walked straight into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he came out holding the same cup — with the same red tea.

Playfully, he said, “Here, honey. Your usual tea, the one that keeps you glowing.”

I looked at him for a moment and said quietly,
“Drink it first.”

His expression changed instantly. He hadn’t expected that.

He tried to tease me. “Oh, come on. This one’s specially made for you.”

“I don’t care,” I said firmly. “I’m not drinking any tea tonight. You drink it. You said it’s good for the body, prove it.”

There was silence.

He stammered. “I… I already drank mine.”

“When?” I snapped. “Don’t play with me. You think I’m stupid? You’ll drink this tea right now, and then you’ll show me how you’ve been making it.”

He stood there, frozen, still holding the cup.

Not a word came out.

Sweat began to form on his forehead.

The room went completely silent.

Then… I saw it.

The tea, it started to change.

The color deepened, becoming darker, thicker, redder.

He looked at the tea, then at me.

His hands began to tremble.

Slowly, he turned toward the window, as if he saw something waiting outside.

When he turned back, his eyes were desperate.

His voice changed, lower, almost breaking.

“Please…” he whispered. “Just drink it.”

I didn’t respond.

Then he said again, softly, “Please… just this once. It’s just tea, nothing more.”

His voice cracked; he was almost in tears.

I sat there, speechless.

I didn’t know whether to trust him… or not.

Should I drink it, just this once, like he said?

But if it’s safe… why has he never drunk it himself?

Why does he go out first, then hide to make the tea?

I took a deep breath, shook my head, and whispered,

“I can’t. I can’t drink it.”

His eyes trembled. “Please,” he said softly. “You’ve known me for years. I took care of you even before we got married. Do I look like someone who could hurt you?”

“Then why are you insisting I drink it? Why?” I snapped.

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