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It's the smell.

The smell of honey reminds you of her. That's what hits you the hardest. None of the photos or the voice messages or the old texts hit you as hard as the smell of honey does. She had honey on her lips the first time you kissed her, and she became sweeter every day from then on. You married, had children, the same old story, and you both loved each other. You were one of the lucky couples. Not many couples love each other these days. You studied the divorce rates and the domestic abuse crimes. You were both very lucky.

No one covers your bruises anymore. The children have all left home and your dog has passed away. You don't look back in anger, but you look forward with fear. Because she's gone, and all you have left is the smell of honey.