24.To be continued.

Waking up, a heavy fog clung to my mind, and a nauseating churn gripped my throat. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks – I was sick, and the memories of last night's revelry flooded back.

With an unsteady rush, I stumbled towards the bathroom, desperately trying to keep the roiling contents of my stomach at bay. The world swirled in disarray as I barely made it to the toilet in time, the unpleasant sound of retching filling the air.

Each heave felt like a punishment for the indulgence of the night before. The bathroom tiles blurred in and out of focus as I clung to the porcelain, grappling with the aftermath of my own excess. Regret settled in, a bitter taste that matched the acrid echoes of my earlier sickness.

As I caught my breath, the morning light filtering through the window seemed harsh, intensifying the throbbing headache that accompanied my queasiness.

I couldn't help but chastise myself for the lack of restraint, the consequences of which now echoed in the quiet mise