Chapter 3
I didn't accept Gavin's proposal right away.
But I didn't say no either.
It was like a splinter stuck deep inside me, always making itself known whenever Jayden acted cold.
I had a way out.
Gavin was waiting for me, even though I'd never met him in person.
*****
My perfume station had been moved from the living room to the storage room.
The tiny 60-square-foot room had a north-facing window, so the light was always dim.
I lined up the bottles of fragrance one by one.
There were over a hundred of them, each with a handwritten label I'd made.
This was the craft my mom left me.
She was a perfumer in her lifetime, not famous, but well-respected in the industry.
I'd studied under her for six years. I started learning scents at four, and she left when I turned ten.
After that, I kept going on my own.
In college, I majored in chemistry, and my thesis was about the molecular structure of natural fragrances.
After I got married, I quit my job. Jayden said he'd support me.
I stayed home. Whenever I had free time, I'd work on blending fragrances.
At first, I posted my creations on social media, sharing them for fun.
Then people started messaging me, asking if I could make custom fragrances.
Later, some perfume studios reached out to collaborate with me.
I used the name "Branche."
No one knew Branche was me, not even Jayden.
He thought I was "fooling around with essential oils at home."
One time, Sophie came over.
Yeah, she actually did.
Jayden asked me to head out for a bit, saying, "A friend is coming over to hang out."
I came back early that day to grab something and happened to run into Sophie.
She stood by my perfume station, sniffing a bottle of rose absolute.
"Wow, this smells amazing," she said.
Later, Jayden called me and told me to pack everything up.
"Come on, don't let people think we're running some kind of chemical factory here," he said.
So now, all my hundred-plus bottles of fragrance, my measuring cups, test tubes, and scent strips were crammed into the storage room.
I sat on a small stool and picked up a scent strip.
I dipped the strip into the base I'd mixed up today: sandalwood, tonka bean, and a touch of guaiac wood.
It felt warm, like someone tucking me in with a light blanket late at night.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed with an email.
It was from Linda Lynch, Commercial Director of Clusia Pacific at Essence & Co..
The subject concerned the exclusive signing cooperation with Branche.
Essence & Co. was the third-largest fragrance group in the world. They owned over a dozen brands, from luxury labels to niche lines.
This was already the third email from Linda.
I hadn't replied to the first two.
It wasn't about being arrogant; I was scared.
Blending fragrances alone in the storage room was one thing, but signing with a multinational corporation? That was a totally different story.
I'd have to show up at events, face the media, and talk to people.
I could barely breathe just imagining it.
I closed the email and left it unanswered.
*****
That night, Jayden came home for dinner—a rare occurrence.
I made four dishes and a soup.
He sat down, and just as he started eating, his phone rang.
He glanced at his phone, then stood up. "I'm heading out."
I called out, "But dinner—"
"I'm not eating," he cut me off, already putting on his coat.
The door closed behind him with a sharp click.
I sat there alone, staring at the table full of food for a while.
Then I put the leftovers in the fridge, washed the dishes, wiped the table, and turned off the lights.
My phone lit up again.
It was Sophie.
A video popped up from her.
It showed Jayden's car parked outside an apartment building.
Sophie was on the balcony, recording.
She added a caption: [Don't worry. I'm not letting him in tonight.]
A smiley face emoji followed right after.
I stared at the screen for a long time before closing the chat.
I sent Gavin a message: [Are you there?]
Three seconds later, he replied: [Yeah.]
[Are you busy today?]
[Nope.]
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and erasing, over and over.
In the end, I sent: [Can you talk to me for a bit?]
He called me right away. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Whatever."
He began, "I went to a vineyard this afternoon.
"It's outside Provensa, so big I can't see where it ends.
"You love lavender, yet it's not in season anymore.
"But I saw some Damask roses.
"I took some pictures. I'll send them over soon."
I curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow.
Gavin's voice washed over me, calm and soothing, like a gentle stream over smooth stones.
"They use those roses to make rose oil," he said. "I tried it, and it reminded me a lot of the blend you sent me before."
"Which one?" I asked softly.
"The one you said felt like being hugged."
I paused for a moment.
That was something I'd mixed up casually two years ago.
He still remembered.
"You do have a good memory," I said.
"Yeah," Gavin replied.
He didn't dwell on the subject, merely went on describing the scenery he'd seen that day.
His tone was gentle, and every word was exactly what I needed to hear.
Before I knew it, it was late at night.
"Getting sleepy?" Gavin asked.
"A little bit," I replied.
"Then get some sleep."
"Gavin."
"Yeah?"
"Why are you so good to me?"
Gavin was quiet for a couple of seconds. "Because you deserve it."