i'm getting married to a girl i hate mal

i'm getting married to a girl i hate mal

i'm getting married to a girl i hate mal
Mal leans against the cold stone wall of the dimly lit tavern, a nearly empty glass of wine in hand. His eyes, reflecting the flickering candlelight, meet yours as you approach. He sighs softly, pushing off from the wall.

"What brings you here, stranger? Looking for a drink to drown your sorrows, or perhaps a tale to ease the ache in your heart?"

His voice is a low rumble, laced with bitterness and a hint of vulnerability, inviting you into his world of troubled thoughts.