Wow, it's been a while since I came here. I entered the flower shop with slow steps, inhaling the sweet and fresh aroma that flooded the place. A young employee, around her twenties, welcomed me with a kind smile.

—How are you?— I asked, sketching a soft smile. I felt the corners of my lips trembling slightly while forcing the gesture.

—I'm doing well— she responded enthusiastically—. People don't look for flowers because their emotions are dry. By the way, what happened to you these days? We haven't seen you around here for a long time.

—I felt a pang in my chest at her innocent question. I swallowed, trying to undo the knot forming in my throat—. It's the same— I responded with a broken voice—. My emotions have been dry these days.

—The employee looked at me with curiosity—. Uff! So, what excited you so much today that you bought all these flowers?

—Her question caught me by surprise. I looked at the enormous bouquet I hold in my hands, as if seeing it for the first time. Why did I buy so many? The answer floats in my mind, but I refused to acknowledge it—. Shouldn't I buy them?— I replied with a neutral voice.

—Would you like to receive gypsophila this time too?— asked the employee, pointing at the delicate white flowers.

—Yes— I responded automatically. While she prepared the bouquet, my mind wandered. I remembered the first time I bought gypsophila. It was for Alessia, on our first anniversary. Her eyes sparkled when she saw the small flowers, like stars in a night sky—. They're perfect— she had whispered, softly kissing me.

I shook my head, trying to push away the memory. It hurts too much to think about those happy moments. I pay for the flowers and left the store, the weight of the bouquet in my arms a constant reminder of what I've lost.

My feet automatically took me to the nearby supermarket. It was quite full, probably because it was dinner time. I headed to the meat counter, trying to ignore the curious looks from some customers seeing my enormous flower bouquet.

—Please, give me 150 grams of seaweed soup— I asked the butcher.

—He nodded and started weighing the meat. While doing so, he looked at me with a sly smile—. Yes! 150 grams of seaweed soup. Whose birthday is it? You even brought flowers.

—His question hit me like a punch in the stomach. I paused, feeling pain spreading through my chest. I forced a smile, although I knew it must look more like a grimace—. Yes— I responded with a hoarse voice—. My beautiful wife has her birthday today.

—Hey! I'm jealous that your wife is beautiful— the butcher joked—. Alright, here's the meat.

—Thank you— I muttered, taking the package. I quickly left the supermarket, unable to bear more looks and questions. On the way home, I passed by a stuffed animal store and bought a teddy bear. Alessia always wanted to have one for our daughter...

Arriving home, I opened the main door and entered. The living room was dark, all lights off. —I'm back— I announced loudly, more out of habit than expecting an answer. The silence that received me was deafening.

I left my coat on the sofa and placed the flowers I bought on the table. The teddy bear found its place on a nearby chair. I changed clothes mechanically, my mind on autopilot while performing these daily tasks.

I started preparing dinner. The seaweed soup was gently boiling while I browsed a recipe brochure. The familiar aroma filled the kitchen, bringing with it an avalanche of memories. Alessia laughing while we tried cooking together for the first time, the pride on her face when we finally managed to make a decent soup...

I shook my head, trying to push away those thoughts. I focused on setting the table, placing some side dishes from the refrigerator alongside the seaweed soup. I added some rice and the table was completely set.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I looked at the table and my heart shrank. There were three soup and rice plates. Three, as if... As if they were here. As if they could join me in this lonely dinner.

Throughout the meal, my gaze constantly directed to the other side of the table. There, on a shelf, was a framed photo. In it, Alessia and I smile, embraced. Her swollen belly was evident, our hands intertwined over it. In front of the photo, I had placed one of the flowers I bought today.

—This is the first time I'm doing it myself— I murmured to the photo—, but you know how you used to do it.

I tried to eat, but each bite was an effort. The soup, which should have been comforting, tasted like ashes to me. I forced myself to swallow, spoonful after spoonful, but the action seemed almost impossible.

—I'm sorry— I whispered, feeling tears accumulating in my eyes—. For not being able to be with you. It's your birthday and I couldn't make it more delicious.

I abruptly stood up, unable to continue sitting in front of that empty table. My entire body felt heavy, my shoulders fallen under the weight of loss. Without bothering to clean the table, I went directly to the shower.

Under the hot water stream, my thoughts ran uncontrollably. Why did I think today would be different? It was a special day, yes, but that only made the pain sharper.

I thought I would feel a bit better, that I could honor her memory somehow. Instead, I felt more depressed than ever.

I came out of the shower and changed clothes without completely drying myself. I entered my bedroom, where a bed too large for a single person awaited me. Next to it was a small desk.

I sat and began drying my hair with a towel. On the desk was a thick notebook and a fine pen. Without hesitating, I opened the notebook.

Approximately a third was already filled with tiny letters. It was my diary, which I had been filling every day since... since I lost them. I grabbed the pen and began writing on an empty page.

—[December 17]

My hand trembled slightly while writing the date. I paused, breathing deeply before continuing.

[Happy birthday, Alessia]

Once the first line was written, the following flowed more easily. It was always difficult to know how to start, but once I did, it was as if I were speaking directly to her.

[Today I left work a little earlier than usual. I promised, right? On your birthday, I would definitely leave early and prepare a delicious seaweed soup.]

I raised my head and looked at the photo on the desk. Alessia smiled, radiant in my arms. —It's the same photo as before— I muttered, as if she could hear me.

—Was the seaweed soup... tasty?— I asked out loud before noting it in the notebook. There was no response, of course. There was no way she would return. She was no longer here. Neither she nor the beautiful daughter we could have had.

I bit my lip hard, trying to contain the tears threatening to spill. If I didn't, I felt I would break down crying at any moment.

[I did what the book said, but it was strangely bland. I couldn't eat it all and only half remained. By the way, the flowers I bought today...]

I continued writing, narrating the day's events as if telling Alessia and our daughter. I told them what I wanted to tell them, what I yearned to hear from them. Writing in my diary made me feel like we were together, at least for a moment. It was a routine I had maintained every day since I lost them.

[I bought a teddy bear as a gift for Violet.]

[Violet... What is she like? Do you like her?]

My hands trembled more and more while writing. The letters became irregular, my vision blurred. I lowered my head, feeling as if I were containing a dam about to burst.

I want to hear their answers— I thought desperately—. I want to hear their voices. I want to see their faces. I want...

I clenched my teeth, fighting the knot in my throat. I tried not to cry, but it was useless.

—I want... to see them. Please…— I couldn't contain it anymore. The truth was too painful to be transmitted any other way. It was so sad, so miserable, that I couldn't even confirm what I was writing. I simply wrote it hoping that, somehow, somewhere, they could receive it.

—I miss you...— I murmured, and with those words, something inside me broke completely.

A month had passed since I lost them. I thought I would improve little by little with time, but that wasn't the case. Instead, as days passed, the longing accumulated like water in a dam about to collapse. And now, the tears I had been holding back for so long burst without control.

[I miss you... I miss you.]

I continued writing those words in my diary, unable to express anything else. I didn't know how long I spent repeating the same phrase, but when I finally recovered my senses, an entire page was filled with those two words.

I dried my tear-covered face with trembling hands. For the first time, I muttered to myself instead of writing, —Actually... I'm a miserable bastard.

I looked at the lines I had written and couldn't help but laugh bitterly between tears. What expression would someone have if they saw me like this? Would they feel pity? Would they think I'm crazy?

In any case, I knew that neither Alessia nor our daughter would want to see me like this. I tried to stop tormenting myself and finally went to bed, physically and emotionally exhausted.