Showcasing..."The fallen pedals"

It all began when we had moved into our new house, and he left to go pay our rents and bills. Everything seemed to be slowly falling in to place. Like the final puzzle piece was found and now the puzzle was complete. All the hard-work, sweat, and tears had finally paid off. It was a Monday when the first of many packages arrived. We had just moved into the town, and I wondered who could be at the doorsteps when the doorbell rang. I opened the door, just a peek to see who it was. Behind the screen door was a mailman with a bundled package. I opened the door hesitantly and he said I received a package from my husband. A tiny smirk had crossed my face when I saw the package was just a dozen flowers. They were arranged just the way I liked them.
From that day onwards, every Monday was a delivery day. It became more and more of a routine to a point where I would wait at the door steps for the mailman with the water and vase ready in my hand.
It was a Monday in the middle of May, and I had a feeling the flowers were to be arriving soon. I saw the mailman's car approaching and I waited on my toes for the package to come. It took him longer to arrive at our home than usual. It felt like hours, days, and weeks for him to arrive at our house in the corner. Finally, he had arrived, he handed me the package, like he always did. And with a sincere smile and bow of his head, he left my doorstep and never returned.
That was the last time I had gotten flowers from him. The last time I would ever see his face when he would return home from work. So I took the flowers he gave me. The yellow Sunflowers glistening in the sun, its pedals slowing shedding one-by-one. I left it on the table. Every Monday, I awaken hoping to receive the flowers at the doorsteps.