To all the ghosts I married

XY's POV Numbers are not really significant. And counting could only make it trivial; making someone a fool for such act. Counting makes someone impatient. It makes you feel as if you've been living in an endless loop of eternity, with heads wrapped in a monotonous haze. My parents never taught me about counting numbers, or time, or even distance. They said, "Counting makes you ungrateful of what you have. There's always going to be more, or less, too far or too close, too short or too long. It takes you away from the moment; of being present and grounded." But as I look at Mr. Finch carrying a boquet of flowers, I had forgotten all of the definitions of 'Counting' I had ever been told. "Good day, Mr. Finch." I greeted him as soon as the doors swung open. The flowers greeted me back too, with a fragrant smell even from a distance. "What a good day it truly is." He said and looked all around the library "Oh, no readers today?" "There were, but only this morning. I had posted since last week that I am closing the library early just for today." I proudly say, as he hand over the flowers to me. "I see. Yellow flowers combined with white lilies." I reached over the boquet and gave him a wide smile. "Thank you so much, Mr. Finch." "Of course, how could I forget if every passing year you would order the same flowers of the same arrangement." Mr. Finch is our local gardener, and every year, I would order these flowers. Actually, not annually. I would get her flowers almost twice a month, and if I could, I'll buy her every day. "I guess she's the only one here in our town who loves flowers with exceeding smell even from a great distance." I joked. "Yes, yes, she truly is the only one." We both laugh, as if we don't do this like a ritual for every year. I payed for the flowers, inserting another bill for the kind man's act of delivering it personally. "I must head home now. Take care, you two." He said, walking over to his truck loaded with flowers at the back. "Thank you once again, Mr. Finch." I waved him good bye and looked at my wrist watch. 5:02 PM. The sun is still high, saying the day hasn't ended. It is still early, but I can not wait to go home. I closed earlier than the usual time and booked all of the things I have. I started closing the library, turning chairs upside down. I placed the flowers in front of my bike, and I started pedalling. Today, I pedalled like an olympian ready for a triathlon; or whatever does an athletic person does. It was as if I am racing with the sun-- whoever comes home first, wins. And I won. I reached home first. It was this little cottage made of woods at the bottom of a mountain, with yellow weeds, and flowers, and trees. It still looked the same way it looked years ago, and it wasn't actually my home. Elvis Presly is singing again from the radio, echoing the lyrics of Can't help falling in love all over the place. I carefully went inside the cottage, to find her cooking in the kitchen. She was wearing a large white sweater, her hair being held by a brown claw clip. She was not yet dressed, and I'm pretty sure haven't taken a bath yet. She's cooking pasta, with shrimps and creams. The oven beneath her was also cooking for what seems like a pork belly. She was cooking and humming with the tone, not knowing I was staring at her. Or so do I thought. "Someone must've stumbled himself on a pool of pollen." Oh, I forgot. The flowers. Maybe she smelled it when I opened the door. I failed at spying at her again, so instead, I walked to her and gave her a hug from the back. "You're early! Why are you getting home early every year?" She asked, hugging my big arms in front of her. I always come home by 7, but last year, I came home at 6. And now, I came home by 5. Next year, I'm thinking of closing the shop for a whole day. "Well, surpriiiiiise, I guess?" "What do you mean surprise?" She said and laughed. "10 footsteps to the kitchen, toes first, wide gaps in each." She knew the moment I entered the house. She even counted my steps and described how I stepped inside. "You knew that you could just enter inside your house freely, right?" She said after her laugh. Nothing could really pass under her nose. She has very high senses, and she detects every motion. Like a hero straight out of Marvel studios. Or an AI robot. "How bizarre. I thought I could surprise you this time!" I said and let go of her with a pout on my face. "Well you did, my love. I thought you're coming home after 6! Now look: I haven't taken a bath yet, and I wasn't even dressed up!" She fussed. "How about I finish the cooking and the dish washing as you prepare?" I offered. "No, no, no, it's fine. You should take some rest and get changed first. Aren't you tired? You want something to eat first?" "No, I insist. There were no people at the library, just a few this morning, but nothing more than that." She flashed a smile, and finally took the offer. "Thank you. I really needed to take a bath now." She said and walked towards the bathroom. The pasta was already mixed with the sauce, and I turned off the stove. I placed my bag and the flowers on the table neatly made, with candles and cutlery. I started doing the dishwashing, when suddenly I felt a hug. I turned around, and it was her, looking up at me with a smile. "I forgot. Welcome home, Leandro!" And gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Hermia." She grinned, and ran again to the bathroom. She's my wife, Hermia. And today, is our 3rd year anniversary. We've been together for 6 years now, but we've been married for 3 years now. We both got married on the same day she said yes to me. "Yes, I'll stay with you." October 7, start of dating "Yes, I'll marry you." October 7, proposal "Yes, I do." October 7, the wedding And ever since then, we lived and breathe through each other's lungs. So every 7th day of the month, I give her flowers, chocolates, or anything that I could bought and bring it home. Like a suitor, but now we're married. "Leandro," She called me, but in the same tone she used when she said Welcome back home. "Yes, babe?" I called back. "Leandro." I walked and knocked on the Bathroom and I could hear her calling me from there. "Babe, what? Did you forget your towel? Shampoo? Or tissue?" I asked. She opened the door, and said,