Chapter 1

I was a famous traditional perfumer, but my husband Jonathan was practically anosmic. For three years, he'd give me that apologetic smile every time I showed him a new scent. "Honey, you know my nose just doesn't work. Everything smells the same to me."

My friends would always tease me, saying I married a guy who was completely immune to fragrance, like he was sitting on a goldmine but couldn't even smell the riches.

One more time, I held out a freshly crafted jasmine pearl fragrance for him, but he just frowned and pulled away, immediately turning on the range hood.

"Jonathan, do you really hate my scent that much?" I finally broke down.

He quickly turned off the fan and wrapped his arms around me from behind, "Honey, it's not you. I really can't smell anything... Can't you cut a guy with no sense of smell some slack?" He gently wiped away my tears, but his fingers carefully avoided the fragrance balm on my wrist.

I looked into his clear, innocent eyes, and all the years of frustration and doubt came rushing back. In the end, I just let out a sigh. "Forget it. I'll stop asking you to smell it." I silently tidied up the chaos on the table, tossing those precious jasmine buds into the trash.

Jonathan wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his chin nestled in the crook of my shoulder. "Still upset?" His warm breath tickled my neck, carrying the clean scent of soap from his shower.

I didn't say anything, just busied myself cleaning up faster.

He buried his face in my hair, took a deep breath, and sighed with satisfaction. "You always smell the best, honey. No need for anything fancy—this is my favorite."

I stiffened. To make sure he could "smell" me, I had purposely skipped all scented shower products today. My skin carried nothing but its bare, natural scent.

He held me for a bit, maybe he got bored, then let go and headed to the living room to open the window. The evening breeze swept in, carrying away all the fragrance in the room, and leaving me feeling cold inside.

Right then, my phone rang. It was Chloe, my best friend. "Eve, did your 'scent-proof' husband finally figure things out today?"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, trying to keep my voice steady. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not joking, I'm worried about you. You're Evelyn Lane, the most gifted traditional perfumer of our generation. People would pay a fortune for your perfumes. And yet, your husband can't even tell what scent you're wearing. It's such a waste of talent."

I clenched my phone, quietly defending him. "He... his sense of smell just isn't right. He was born that way."

"Sense of smell? Please, he's just blind emotionally." Chloe huffed. "Listen, men aren't really unable to smell, they just don't want to. If he actually cared about you, even if he was truly blind, he'd still be able to find you in a crowd."

There was a burst of noise in the background, and Chloe quickly said, "I'm swamped here, talk to you later," before hanging up. I held the cold phone in my hand, Chloe's words piercing right into the most vulnerable part of my heart.

*****

In the living room, Jonathan was leaning back on the couch, flipping through the channels with the remote. The TV screen flashed with shifting lights before finally landing on an entertainment news channel.

I took a deep breath and carefully took out the last vial of fragrance from my studio. It was made from white orchids picked at dawn, still kissed with dew, and extracted using the oldest cold-press method. It had taken me forty-nine days to produce just a single drop of this pure essence.

I walked over and held the scent strip right up to his nose. "Jonathan, can you smell this one?" I asked quietly.

He didn't even look up, just waved me off, like I was some annoying fly. "I've told you, I can't smell anything. Why don't you believe me?" My hand froze in mid-air, and it felt like my blood had turned to ice.

On the TV, the host's voice rang out, full of excitement. "After three years away from the spotlight, Best Actress Marina Cole made a stunning comeback today, announcing her official return. It's reported that she'll be teaming up with the mysterious genius perfumer, Ghost, to launch her very own signature fragrance line!"

The camera zoomed in for a close-up. Marina elegantly lifted her wrist, showing it off to the camera. There, she wore a delicate, vintage-style perfume bottle.

The host's voice rang out again, "This perfume, called Ephemeral, was Ghost's last creation before disappearing three years ago. Rumor has it, the inspiration came from a love so unforgettable, it left a scar on the heart."

My gaze locked onto that perfume bottle, unable to look away. It stood out—etched with intricate stars and waves swirling across the bottle. That pattern... I swear I've seen it somewhere before.