The Scent of Letting Go

Ethan Shaw changed the door lock password.

The new password was sent to my email, and after trying twice, I got in.

The apartment smelled wrong. The air was filled with gardenia-scented fabric softener, not the one I used.

There were clothes in the washing machine that had not been taken out. One of his shirts and a floral dress. The dress was a size S, and I wore an L.

I took the clothes out, folded them, and placed them on the sofa armrest.

I glanced through the trash can too. Pizza for two, two cups of Coke, and neither was Diet Coke.

I only drank Diet Coke. He knew that.

So neither of those two cups was for me.

I did not lose my temper. I sat on the sofa and waited for half an hour.

When he came back and saw me, he froze for a second before changing his shoes. "Youre back early today."

I pointed at the dress on the sofa. "Who did you wash this for?"

"A coworker. She spilled wine at a party"

"A coworker who wears size S, loves Coke, and uses gardenia fabric softener?"

He did not answer.

I picked up my bag and opened the door.

"Ill use the new password just this once. Change it again, and dont send it to me."

"Its too late tonight. Ill pick you up tomorrow morning."

At 1:47 a.m., Ethan Shaws message popped up.

Only the spotlight above the blending table was on in the studio, and the base notes of agarwood and cedar wrapped around me, cold and clean.

Not gardenia.

The second message came right after. "Lily Hart just drank too much and got her dress dirty, so she came over to shower. Dont twist everything into the dirtiest possible version."

Lily Hart.

He gave me a name. Earlier at home, he had called her "a coworker," but now she had become Lily Hart.

I did not reply right away. I unscrewed a bottle of petitgrain essential oil and brought it to my nose. My sense of smell could calm me down.

Gardenia fabric softener was not a scent that clung after one shower. Those molecules seeped into the fibers, and it would take at least two to three straight weeks of use.

I had studied perfumery for eight years, and my nose was more honest than his mouth.

After organizing my words, I typed back, "She wears size S, uses gardenia fabric softener, and loves Coke. Those three things all happened during the half month after you changed the password. Ethan, there is no gardenia fabric softener in my apartment."

His "typing" indicator flashed six times.

In the end, he sent a voice message.

I tapped it open. First came two seconds of silence, then a long, drawn-out sigh.

"The companys new product has been under a lot of pressure. She helped me run channels and took care of a few daily things along the way. It was only for this period, and it wont happen again."

Daily things.

Changing his fabric softener and washing her own floral dress in his apartment. He called that "along the way."

I sent him a voice message, and my voice was even calmer than I had expected. "Are you admitting it?"

"What am I admitting?" He typed faster than he talked. "Serena Cole, can you stop obsessing over details? I didnt handle it well enough, but you cant erase three years of us because of a bottle of fabric softener."

Three years.

He brought up three years.

Three years ago, he wanted to start a business, and there was forty thousand in the account. I sold three exclusive formulas and scraped together eight hundred thousand as his startup capital. Those formulas were based on what my mother had left me, and they were half my life.

At the folding table in our rental apartment, he pressed his thumbprint on a piece of paper and wrote a crooked line: Half the company shares are yours, and the front door password will always be your birthday.

Always.

Back then, it was always. Now it had become "it wont happen again."

I typed, "Three years. Are you talking about the three years when I invested eight hundred thousand and three formulas?"

"See, youre keeping score again," he replied instantly. "Im talking about feelings, and you drag money into it. Thats your problem."

My problem.

I stared at those two words for a long time.

I closed SnapChat and placed my phone face down on the blending table.

When dawn was almost breaking, I returned to the apartment. I opened the fridge, and my hand stopped in midair.

The fridge was packed full of Coke.

There were handwritten sticky notes on the cups, the handwriting round and cute, with a little smiley face drawn on them"Special sweetness for Mr. Shaw~ You worked hard! Lily"

Lily.

She had given herself a nickname in my fridge.

I took them out one cup at a time. There were eight cups in total.

I opened the closet too. My coats and sweaters were still there, but an extra pink storage bag had appeared in the bottom drawer, with a teddy bear keychain hanging from the zipper and two neatly folded pairs of leggings inside, size S.

There was also a new pink cup on the bathroom cup rack, printed with the words: SMALL BUT MIGHTY.

I took my own toothbrush away and left that pink cup untouched.

When I opened the jewelry box, Ethans engagement ring was still in the top compartment. One carat, and he said he had bought it with the companys first profit. But the formula for that order had come from me.

In the end, I had given it to myself.

I walked back to the kitchen. A thin layer of condensation had formed on the outside of the eight Coke cups in the trash can.

I threw the ring in.

It sank to the bottom, wedged between the bottom of a cup and one of "Lilys" sticky notes.

My phone rang again.

Ethan: "Are you coming back today? Lets talk about last night in person. Dont overthink alone."

I picked up my suitcase and took one last look at the apartment. Twelve hundred square feet, south-facing, a listing I found, a lease I signed, and now it smelled like someone elses home.

I only replied with one message: "I cleaned out the fridge. Theres something in the trash can. Remember to take it out."

"We still need to talk about the shares in person."

A week later, Ethan sent me this message, along with a restaurant location.

On the other end of the phone, Ava Reed was so anxious she started cursing. "Why the hell would you go? If hes asking to meet now, hes definitely up to something."

"We need to sign the share withdrawal agreement eventually," I said. "Dragging it out does me no good."

"Then Ill go with you."

"No. If there are more people, hell have an excuse to change the subject."

When I arrived at the restaurant entrance, the first thing I saw was that suit.

Dark gray custom tailoring, subtle vertical stripes, the birthday gift I gave him two years ago. Back then, he said the cut looked too old and shoved it into the closet without wearing it once.

He wore it today.

The buttons were fastened all the way to the top, and his tie was tied in a Windsor knot.

He stood up and pulled out a chair. "Sit. I ordered the sake-steamed clams you like."

"Im here to sign the agreement."

"Eat first." He pushed the plate forward. "Youve been staying at the studio these days, right? The water heater there is broken. How are you showering?"

"Does that have anything to do with the shares?"

He paused, then took a document from his briefcase and spread it out. "You can withdraw your shares, but the companys valuation cant be finalized right now. We need to wait until after the third round of financing"

"Ethan."

I cut him off.

Because I saw the person walking in through the door.

A floral dress, size S, with a waist so thin it looked pinched into shape.

The scent on her reached my nose from three tables awaygardenia. Not natural gardenia, but synthetic gardenia aldehyde from cheap household products, sickeningly sweet and flat.

Lily Hart.

The moment she "saw" us, her expression switched smoothlyfirst surprise, then embarrassment, then a smile that was eighty percent obedient and twenty percent innocent.

"Oh, Mr. Shaw, youre here too? What a coincidence."

She actually sat down. She pulled out the chair beside Ethan and sat down on her own.

"Hello, Mrs. Shaw." She nodded at me, the curve of her lips precise down to the millimeter.

Mrs. Shaw.

I put down my fork and said nothing.

She immediately turned to Ethan. "Mr. Shaw, your stomach isnt good, so you cant eat spicy food. Let me switch this to plain oatmeal and something light for you, okay?" She reached for the menu, her arm brushing against Ethans sleeve, so natural it was like she had done it a hundred times.

Ethan did not move away.

"You wont blame me for meddling, will you, Mrs. Shaw?" She looked up at me, her gaze full of consideration and propriety. "After the last party, Mr. Shaws stomach hurt all night, and I really couldnt bear to see him suffer."

After the last party.

The last time his stomach hurt.

She knew better than I did when his stomach had hurt.

"I dont blame you," I said, calling the server over. "Add one spicy grilled fish, extra spicy."

Lily blinked. "Mrs. Shaw, Mr. Shaw really cant"

"He used to drink until he threw up for business dinners, so his stomach has always been bad, and he cant eat spicy food. Didnt you know?"

She had no answer.

Ethan frowned and lowered his voice by half a degree. "Serena, is this really necessary? Going after a young girl with all that sarcasm."

A young girl.

A size S floral dress, gardenia fabric softener, eight cups of "special sweetness" in the fridge, and a pink SMALL BUT MIGHTY cup in the bathroom.

In his mouth, it was reduced to two wordsa young girl.

"Wheres the share withdrawal agreement?" I pulled the topic back.

"I said well wait until after the third round of financing"

"How long?"

"Three to six months."

"Give me a firm answer."

He drew the agreement closer to his side. "Whats the rush? Its not like were divorcing and splitting assets. Calm down, take some time to cool off, and come back so we can live properly."

Take some time to cool off.

He thought I was talking about feelings, while I was talking about equity.

Lily suddenly spoke, her voice soft and gentle. "Mrs. Shaw, Mr. Shaw has really been under a lot of pressure lately. Ive been overseeing the new product development line, and weve been busy until after midnight every day. If youre worried, Ill keep my distance from Mr. Shaw from now on."

Her words were beautiful. She backed down in public, made herself look weak, and casually slipped in "busy until after midnight every day."

I stood up.

Ethan pressed his hand on the agreement. "Are you signing or not?"

"Did you wear this suit today because you thought Id soften up if you put on something I gave you?" I picked up my bag. "Something you shoved away for two years and never wore, then polished up to use in an emergency. Its exactly like what you did to me."

His fingers tightened on the table.

Beside him, Lily lowered her head and stirred her coffee, her shoulders shrinking slightly, as if she had suffered some enormous grievance.

When I walked out of the restaurant, I heard her say behind me, "Mr. Shaw, did Mrs. Shaw misunderstand something about me? Should I not have come?"

"It has nothing to do with you. Her temper has always been like this."

Ethans voice leaked through the gap in the glass door, clear as day.

"Her temper has always been like this."

"Serena, are you here at the company to pick up your things today?"

Chloe at the front desk sounded a little nervous, and her eyes drifted toward the office area inside.

"Yeah, Im here to pick up my personal belongings."

Ethans company was in Building B of the tech park, taking up the entire third floor. I had helped him choose that office building back then and negotiated the lease down. I bought the plants at the front desk, and I blended the scent for the fragrance system at the end of the hallway.

But today, as soon as I pushed the door open, I smelled gardenia.

The diffuser stones in the hallway had been changed to a new scent.

I did not stop and walked straight to Ethans office.

The door was not closed. Nothing much had changed on the desk, and the bottom drawer was where I kept my thingsa leather-bound notebook, A5 size, with a brown vegetable-tanned leather cover and corners worn pale.

My mothers handwritten formulas. The complete compositions of thirty-seven perfumes, all her notes, scent trial records, and raw material ratios were inside. When she passed away, she left nothing else, only this.

The drawer was empty.

The notebook was gone.

I looked back at the workstations outside. At the desk directly facing Ethans office, the surface was covered with pink storage boxes and a laptop with a glittery case.

My mothers formula notebook was on that desk.

It was pressed under a takeout container and an unfinished cup of Coke.

A large brown water stain spread across the leather cover, and when I flipped open two pages, the brown stain had soaked through the paper, blurring half of my mothers fountain pen writing.

She had used my mothers relic as a coaster.

"Hey, Mrs. Shaw"

Lily had returned at some point, holding two new cups of Coke, and when she saw me standing in front of her workstation, her steps slowed by half a beat.

"Mr. Shaw asked me to organize this notebook." She put down the Coke, speaking as if she were explaining something completely natural. "Some of the formula data inside needs to be entered into the system."

"This is my personal property."

"But Mr. Shaw said these formulas are the companys core assets"

I reached out to pull the notebook away.

She moved back, and the chair wheels slid, her elbow knocking over the cup on the desk.

Freshly brewed hot coffee.

Boiling liquid poured over the back of my outstretched right hand.

Pain. It felt like someone had pressed a piece of red-hot iron against my skin.

The back of my hand swelled quickly, first turning red, then blistering, with clear blisters bulging one after another over my knuckles.

My right hand. Perfumery required grinding, test strips, and turning the wrist to sense how a scent lingered. Everything depended on this hand.

Lily screamed, but she was not looking at my handshe was looking at the coffee stain splashed on her own thigh.

Ethan rushed out of the office.

He ran past me.

He ran to Lilys side, crouched down, and checked her leg. "Did you get burned? Let me see."

Then he turned his head and looked at me, frowning as if I had caused trouble. "You knew shes clumsy. Why did you fight her over some stupid notebook?"

Some stupid notebook.

I clenched that leather notebook, now soaked and ruined by Coke, in my right hand. The blisters on the back of my hand burst under the pressure, and clear fluid ran down between my fingers, mixing with the brown Coke stains.

"Ethan," I said, "the eight hundred thousand you used to start your business came from this stupid notebook."

His expression finally cracked.

"Dont send me the password anymore. Even you feel dirty to me now."

I left with the notebook clenched in my hand. In the elevator, my hand began trembling uncontrollably, the pain so intense that my fingertips spasmed.

Chloe ran after me and handed me a bottle of water, looking at my hand like she wanted to say something but hesitated. "Serena should I call a car for you? Burns need treatment right away."

"Help me call a car to the hospital."

"Okay." She paused for two seconds, then said quietly, "Serena, Lily Mr. Shaw didnt ask her to organize that notebook. She took it herself. Last week, she even took photos of the formulas inside and sent them to an outside supplier."

My fingers tightened around the notebook another degree.

I could no longer feel the pain.

"Thank you for telling me, Chloe."

She bit her lower lip and nodded hard, looking like she was about to cry.

The car arrived. Before getting in, I looked back at the third-floor window, and the office lights were still on.

"Lets go."

"Second-degree burns, with some deep second-degree areas."

The doctor took off his gloves and looked up at me. "What do you do for work?"

"Im a perfumer."

He paused, and the motion of tossing his gloves into the trash slowed by half a beat.

"The deep second-degree areas over the joints on the back of your right hand may leave scars. Right now, we still need to monitor the wound for infection risk, and skin grafting cannot be ruled out later."

"Will finger movement be affected?"

"Its hard to say for now. It depends on recovery. If scar contracture develops, the bending angle of your fingers may be limited."

By the time Ava rushed into the hospital room, my hand was already wrapped in gauze.

"Serena Cole, are you insane? Why didnt you call me? Your hand"

"Help me do a few things."

Her eyes were red with anxiety, and her mouth was still open before she could finish scolding me.

"First, block every contact method for Ethan Shaw."

"Okay."

"Second, help me check flights to Grasse today."

"Youre leaving?"

"Im going to Grasse. Theres a fragrance-producing region there, and I contacted an estate owner before. I can do independent R&D there."

"Waityour hand is already like this, and you still"

"Ava."

She shut up.

I lowered my head and looked at my right hand, wrapped tightly in gauze. Beneath the white bandages were ulcerated wounds, broken blisters, and a piece of skin whose future was uncertain.

A perfumers hand.

"Help me buy a ticket. Tonight."

She said nothing more and took out her phone to start working. She blocked him and deleted all chat records.

Then she suddenly stopped.

"Serena, look at this."

She handed me her phone.

It was an Ins page. The account was called "Lily Sweetpea," with half a side profile as the avatar, and an amethyst necklace hanging at the collarboneI had seen the same style beside the cup rack in Ethans bathroom.

The latest post had been published three hours ago.

Title: [New Home Decorating Vlog | Building Our Little Nest with Him]

A nine-photo grid.

The first photo was the living room, my sofa, the floor lamp I chose, and a bouquet of gardenias on the table.

The second photo was the kitchen, with the fridge door open and rows of thirty-percent-sugar Coke inside, the sticky notes on the cups clearly visible.

The third photo was the bathroom. That pink SMALL BUT MIGHTY cup was placed in the center, and the spot for my toothbrush beside it was already empty.

The fourth photo was the bedroom.

The photo on the nightstand had been changed. In the frame was a photo of Ethan and Lily together, the two of them leaning against each other at the beach Ethan and I had gone to last year.

Comments:

"Youre so happy! Your boyfriends place is huge!"

"How many bedrooms is this? So luxurious for two people!"

"Im jealous, Im jealous. When are you getting the marriage license?"

In three hours, there were two hundred and forty-seven comments.

She had turned my home into her content material.

My sofa, my lamp, the lease I signed, the home I found, all became "our little nest" in her title.

"Theres another one." Ava scrolled down to a post from last week. "Look at this."

Title: [My Perfumery Diary | Learning to Make Perfume at My Boyfriends Company]

In the photo was an open leather-bound notebookmy mothers formula notebook.

She had photographed the inner pages.

My mothers fountain pen writing, the raw material ratios and scent trial records written line by line, had been photographed and posted on social media by her, with the caption: "My boyfriends companys exclusive formula notebook. I heard its worth millions. Ill work hard too and become a master perfumer!"

One thousand three hundred likes.

Four hundred and seventy saves.

The things my mother wrote stroke by stroke were now in the saved folders of four hundred and seventy strangers.

"Serena"

"Have you bought the plane ticket?"

"I bought it. Eleven tonight."

"Lets go."

I stood up, without putting my right arm into the sleeve of my coat, and when the gauze on the back of my hand brushed against the edge of my clothes, the pain made my vision go white.

Ava supported my arm and walked me to the hospital lobby, and my phone suddenly rang.

An unfamiliar number.

When I answered, it was a mans voice, very formal. "May I ask if this is Ms. Serena Cole? Im Attorney Clark from M&C Law Firm, contacting you on behalf of Mr. Ethan Shaw."

"What is it?"

"The share agreement you previously signed with Mr. Shaw does not constitute a valid shareholder relationship under the law because it does not have the statutory filing procedures required by the company charter. Mr. Shaw hopes to negotiate with you amicably"

"You mean that agreement is invalid?"

"Strictly speaking, that handwritten document is indeed difficult to use as"

"I invested eight hundred thousand at the time. There are transfer records."

"Mr. Shaws position is that the nature of that sum was a personal loan rather than an equity investment, and he is willing to repay it in installments"

I hung up.

The taxi was waiting at the entrance. Ava opened the car door, looked at my face, and said nothing.

After the car drove through two intersections, she finally asked quietly, "Serena, are you okay right now?"

The night slid past the car window, and streetlights retreated one by one.

"Help me look into someone," I said. "Lily Harts background, work experience, and how she got into Ethans company."

"You suspect she"

"I dont believe anything anymore. Help me investigate."