One-Way Street

Roy stared at the bartender like the man had just reached across the bar and rearranged the laws of physics with his bare hands. The words didn't settle. Didn't land. They just hung there, impossible and heavy, waiting for his brain to catch up.

The wish.

The one I granted.

A slow blink. Then another.

All week, every bizarre, escalating, reality-bending moment, he'd been trying to make sense of it. Some kind of cosmic accident. A glitch. A freak alignment of... something. Bad luck. Good luck. Chaos dressed up as fate.

Not this.

Not a man standing three feet away, drying glasses like this was just another shift.

"The bartender," Roy muttered under his breath, almost to himself, shaking his head faintly. "It's the bartender."

The man on the other side of the bar didn't correct him. Didn't react at all, really. Just reached for another glass.

Something in Roy snapped into place. Not understanding, not even acceptance, but urgency. A chance.

"If you did it," he said, voice tightening as he leaned forward slightly, "then you can stop it, right?"

That got a reaction. Small. Subtle.

The bartender's hands paused for half a second before continuing their slow, methodical motion.

"Stop it?" he echoed, like he was testing the shape of the idea. "Why would you want to stop it?"

The question hit harder than it should have.

"Why wouldn't I?" Roy shot back, incredulous now, the words coming faster. "These women... this isn't real. They’re being **** into this. Into being with me. Nobody asked them what they wanted. They just get..." His hand made a vague, frustrated gesture between himself and the empty space Zara had left behind. "Dropped into my life. Or into my bed. Or whatever the hell this is supposed to be."

A breath, sharper now.

"You've got to stop it."

The bartender set the glass down.

"No can do."

Flat. Simple. Final. Roy blinked again, thrown by how easily it was said.

"What do you mean, 'no can do'?" The edge in his voice sharpened. "You just said you did this."

"I said I was present," the bartender corrected mildly. "There's a difference."

"That's not a helpful difference."

"It's the only one I've got."

A beat. Then, more plainly:

"I don't really know how it works. But one thing I do know?" He met Roy's eyes. "A wish is a one-way street. You get on it when you make it. You get off it when it's done."

Roy let out a short, disbelieving breath.

"So why hasn't it stopped yet?"

That, at least, seemed to land. The bartender tilted his head slightly, studying him in a way that felt clinical.

"I don't know," he said. "Did you get what you wished for?"

"I didn't wish for this," Roy snapped. "I didn't wish for random women to fall head-over-heels for me."

A small pause. Then Varoonth spoke, voice precise:

"If I recall, you said: 'I wish I could be the kind of guy women went for.'"

The words landed with uncomfortable clarity. Roy's mouth opened. Closed.

"That's not the same thing," he said, but there was less certainty behind it now.

"Isn't it?"

The bartender nodded subtly toward the hallway Zara had disappeared down.

"That woman seems to think you're exactly that."

Roy followed the gesture automatically, staring at the empty space for a second before dragging his gaze back.

"That's not her," he said, quieter now. "Not really."

A flicker of something, interest, maybe, passed through the bartender's expression.

"No?"

"She wasn't like this yesterday," Roy continued, words coming slower, more deliberate. "She's changing herself. For me." A small, uneasy shake of his head. "That's not me being the kind of guy women go for. That's something else."

The bartender considered that.

"Hm."

Not agreement. Not disagreement. Just acknowledgement.

"Maybe," he said after a moment, "the wish isn't finished yet."

A faint, almost thoughtful tone entered his voice.

"If you're not actually that kind of man, then the wish might still be working on it."

Something cold slid down Roy's spine.

"Working on it how?"

The bartender didn't answer right away. Instead, he picked up another glass, turning it slowly in his hands.

"I don't get to see the end until it happens," he said. "But I do know this," His gaze lifted again. "If it were done, I wouldn't still be here. When a wish is fulfilled, I move on. Or get moved on. I don't get a choice."

That landed. Hard. A quiet beat stretched between them. Roy leaned back slightly, the stool creaking under the shift in his weight. Too much information. Too many implications stacking on top of each other, none of them settling into anything stable.

Stop it? Can't. Not done yet.

Jesus.

Movement at the edge of the room caught the bartender's attention first. Roy followed a second later.

Zara.

Just stepping out of the hallway, one hand brushing lightly along her hair as she re-entered the bar. Composed again. Polished. That same carefully constructed confidence snapping back into place like she'd flipped a switch.

The bartender's voice dropped, quieter now.

"You should keep this to yourself."

Roy tore his eyes away from her, looking back.

"What?"

"The wish," the bartender clarified. "Talking about it. Explaining it." A small shake of his head. "Things tend to get... messy when people who didn't make it start poking at it."

A beat.

"Messy how?"

A faint, almost knowing look.

"Worse."

Not elaborated. Not explained. Just left there. Roy swallowed.

"And you?" he asked. "What, I just... come back here if I have questions?"

A hint of something like amusement touched the bartender's expression.

1"I'll be around," he said. "For as long as I'm needed. Don't know how helpful I'll be, though."

Which, given everything else he'd said, wasn’t exactly reassuring.

"It's new," the bartender added after a moment. "Being able to talk to someone in the middle of it like this." A small shrug. "Breaks up the routine," he paused, then, "Name's Varoonth. Come by for a drink when you need it."

Before Roy could respond, Zara closed the distance.

"Miss me, baby?"

The words came out smooth. Practiced. She leaned in immediately, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, and then broke into a bright, delighted giggle half a second later.

"Okay, that one felt better than the car version," she said, sliding back onto her stool. "I think I'm improving. Iteration is key."

Her hand found his again without hesitation. Warm. Certain. Real.

"I missed you," she added, softer now, eyes bright behind her glasses.

Roy stared at her. Then at their joined hands. Then, briefly, at the bartender.

Varoonth had already moved on, stacking glasses like nothing had happened. Like nothing had changed.

Roy's mind raced. No matter what he had just learned, he still had a job to do. A plan to follow through with. He still had to free Zara from his influence. That had been simple ten minutes ago. Have a drink, take her back to her place, get intimate, and erase himself from her life.

Now...

Now the whole idea felt like trying to perform surgery while the room spun and the floor shifted under his feet.

Zara squeezed his hand lightly.

"You okay?" she asked, tilting her head, concern flickering through the carefully constructed persona.

For a second, the act slipped. Just a little. There she was. The real one. Roy **** something resembling a smile.

"Yeah," he said, though it came out a little thinner than intended. "Yeah, I'm good."

He wasn't. Not even close. But Zara was here. The night was still moving forward.

And whatever the hell the wish was doing, it wasn't done with him yet.