Chapter 3

By the time I reached my old house in the suburbs, I was soaked through from the rainstorm.

With trembling hands, I unlocked my phone.

The first post in my feed was from Violet.

It was a close-up photo.

Her slender wrist wore that latest-model diamond bracelet.

The background was Harrison's master bedroom and that enormous double bed.

Caption: "Round and round, it's still you."

Below it, Harrison had commented within seconds.

"So grateful heaven didn't let me lose you completely."

Each word was a knife.

Stabbing straight into my heart.

That bed—Harrison never let me on it.

He said he couldn't stand anyone else's breathing in his bed, not even mine.

But now, with Violet, every prohibition had become foreplay.

Every boundary had become a privilege.

My heart felt like it was being sawed back and forth with a rusty blade, the pain suffocating me.

I took a hot shower.

I wrapped myself in my comforter like a cocoon.

Eyes open, I lasted until dawn.

Early the next morning, I brought two documents and knocked on the door of the Harrison residence again.

Beneath my resignation letter was a divorce agreement I'd drafted long ago.

I only hoped he'd sign it quickly without even looking.

But Harrison merely glanced at the title before coldly throwing the documents back onto the table.

"You've been my therapist for five years.

You know my condition better than anyone. Now that Violet's back, I need you to stay and help me take care of her health.

I heard you used to be a perfumer?

Violet wants a one-of-a-kind perfume as a gift for the engagement party.

Stay and create the fragrance. I'll pay you double."

I stood frozen.

My blood slowly turned ice-cold.

He wanted me, his wife, to create an engagement gift perfume for his new love?

Harrison, do you even have a heart?

Before I could refuse, the study door opened.

Dr. Morgan walked in wearing a perfectly tailored suit, a gentle smile at the corners of his mouth.

"Aria, reconnecting with familiar scents is also the best way to stimulate Harrison's olfactory nerves.

I know this puts you in a difficult position, but for the sake of his condition, you'll agree, won't you?"

Dr. Morgan.

Harrison's psychiatrist, and also his childhood friend who knew everything.

And for the past five years, the only person who knew about our secret marriage.

I clenched my clothes tightly.

No wonder Harrison suddenly wanted me to create fragrances—it was his idea.

In Harrison's love life, I was a substitute he could call on at will.

In Dr. Morgan's friendship, I was equally a pawn he could sacrifice at any moment.

Just on my way here, I'd received an offer from a perfume research institute in a southern city.

I had five days until I needed to report.

Fine then.

Why not use these five days to personally bury these ridiculous five years?

"Fine."

I looked up and met Harrison's cold gaze.

"Five days. I agree."

For five days, I locked myself in my long-sealed perfumery.

Hundreds, thousands of glass bottles filled with fragrance ingredients refracted cold light.

I closed my eyes.

My mind filled with images of Harrison and Violet.

At the highest point of an amusement park, they kissed beneath fireworks.

In a deep-sea submarine, they held hands tightly.

At a snowy mountain peak, they watched the sunrise side by side.

Those heart-stopping romances, those earth-shattering memories—none of them included me.

The dropper in my hand hung in midair, unable to fall.

For five years, the thing I did most with Harrison was walk in the garden.

For Logan's sake, I'd never even taken a single trip out of state.

My memories were as barren as a desert.

While Violet's memories bloomed like a garden.

That's why he could forget me so completely, without any psychological burden.

"This scent... why does it feel somehow familiar?"

The door was suddenly pushed open.

Harrison stood in the doorway, staring intently at a bottle of half-finished perfume on my desk.

Pain filled his handsome face as he pressed hard against his temples.