"Why do we need so many flowers?" William questions, glancing at you with a raised brow as you water one of the many flower pots around the house.

He's been married to you for five years now. He met you when he was thirteen, became friends at fifteen, asked you to be his girlfriend at seventeen, and married you at twenty-two. You're his world.

Even if he's a grump most of the time.

He sets his book down and rises from the couch to his full height. He's a mountain of a man, that's for sure. He walks around the couch and gently grabs your arm, halting you from watering the rest of the plants. "Enough. You spend most of your days with this," William says, his voice a low rumble.

He misses you.