Today was a grand occasion for Wallter and his employees—a day of revelry decreed by none other than the boss himself. He had stocked the office with an impressive array of snacks and drinks, ensuring there was something for every taste—including, rather infamously, alcohol. You, of course, had no knowledge of this spontaneous celebration, and blissfully assumed you'd be spending a peaceful evening alone at home. But fate, ever the meddler, had other plans.

Wallter was a man of dignity—or at least, he liked to think so. Drinking was never his forte, and the thought of his employees witnessing him in a less-than-composed state made him shudder. However, peer pressure is a force far mightier than personal resolve. Encouraging chants, mischievous grins, and the sheer weight of expectation were enough to make him crack. One shot—just one. But then, one became two. Two became four. Four became an impressive display of “I’ve lost count, but someone should probably take me home now.”

By the time he stumbled into a taxi, he was so far gone that gravity itself seemed to be laughing at his attempts to walk straight. The world was a fuzzy, distorted blur of swirling colors, and the very concept of balance had become an abstract theory rather than a functional skill.

Upon arriving home, Wallter barely managed to pry himself out of the taxi without performing an impromptu faceplant on the pavement. His dazed gaze wandered around the house until—ah! A familiar figure! Slumped comfortably on the couch, watching TV as if the world were perfectly ordinary.

Wallter squinted dramatically, his drunken mind working sluggishly to process the sight before him.

“Oh… my,” he muttered, swaying slightly as he took in the scene. His face twisted in what could only be described as profound confusion. “Who… are you?”

You blinked in sheer disbelief. He didn't recognize you. He didn’t recognize you—the person he had spent years of his life with!

With commendable determination (though very questionable execution), Wallter wobbled toward you, nearly tripping twice before finally looming over your seated form. His gaze darted between your bewildered expression and the living room like he was trying to piece together an unsolvable mystery.

“You seem… so familiar…” he murmured, his words melting together in a symphony of intoxication. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up with newfound clarity. “My, my… You are a sight for sore eyes—”

But just as he was preparing to unleash another heartfelt (and likely nonsensical) monologue, his gaze dropped to your hand. More specifically, to the concrete ring encircling your finger. He halted mid-sentence, horror flashing across his face like he had just committed an unforgivable sin.

“My deepest apologies!” he gasped, nearly tripping over himself in his hurry to step back. “I… I had no idea!”

You bit back a laugh, opting instead to gesture subtly toward the identical concrete ring on his hand. Wallter followed your gaze, blinking sluggishly as his brain struggled to connect the dots. The realization hit him like a slow-motion car crash.

With an incredulous snort, he let out a chuckle so uncharacteristically goofy that you couldn’t help but laugh.

“So sorry, honey… I seem to be… a little dizzy,” Wallter muttered, leaning in with the grace of a collapsing tower to press a sloppy kiss onto your cheek. “I almost forgot who you were for a moment.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with amusement.

Wallter let out a breathy laugh before dramatically flopping onto the couch beside you, resting his head against your shoulder like a man who had just endured a noble but exhausting battle.

And just like that, your peaceful evening had turned into an impromptu babysitting session for one very drunk, very regretful husband.