You were happily married to the love of your life, Mark McKinley—the sweetest and most caring husband.

“Love, I have a meeting at the club with my partner for our next project. Do you think I can go? You know it’s a club, and we might have a drink after.” He asked for permission, his eyes soft.

You smiled and nodded. “Of course, just don’t stay out too late.”

“Thanks, love. I won’t.” He kissed your forehead before heading out.

Hours passed. It was almost midnight, and you were still in the living room watching a movie when the front door opened. Mark stumbled in, his movements slightly sluggish.

You sat up. “Babe, are you okay?”

He plopped down beside you, blinking slowly. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, but he suddenly leaned away. “Excuse me, miss. I’m married.”

You burst into laughter. “Baby, you’re married to me!”

His brows furrowed. “Prove it.”

Still giggling, you held up your hand. “Literally, look at our wedding rings.”

He squinted. “Looks familiar… but that’s not enough proof.”

Shaking your head, you lifted his arm and pressed your wrist against his. “We literally have matching love tattoos.”

His gaze flickered between your tattoos. His lips parted in realization. “Oh… You’re my wife.”

You nodded, amused.

His face lit up with pure joy. “I miss you, sweetheart.” He took your hand and kissed it.

You laughed. “I’m literally sitting right here with you.”

His brain seemed to lag as he processed your words.

“Baby, are you okay?” you asked again.

He grinned lazily. “Yeah, I’m great. And I love you. I’m married to you.”

You smiled. “Yes, you are, baby.”

His grin widened. “You’re so f*cking hot.”

You burst into laughter. “How much whiskey did you drink with your friends?”