Chapter 4: The Scent of Betrayal

One night, Nathaniel returned late and didn't see me waiting for him. He found me in the study.

The room was quiet, the lamp casting a soft glow. I was curled up on the daybed, half-asleep, a book open on my lap.

I was lying on the daybed in summer clothes, reading a romance novel. The story was at the part where "the heroine opens the window to invite her lover." Suddenly, a tall figure approached and kissed me, hard.

His lips were warm, insistent, and I startled, dropping the book. He smiled, brushing a stray curl from my forehead.

When the kiss ended, I was out of breath. I suddenly smelled a faint floral scent on his neck, and I touched his collar. "When did you change your cologne? Why haven't I smelled it before?"

The question slipped out before I could stop it. Nathaniel paused, a flicker of something crossing his face. Then he recovered, smiling as usual.

Nathaniel paused for a moment, then smiled as usual. "Today I accompanied the mayor to the civic arts center. The gardenias are blooming between the two walkways. After staying there for a while, I must've picked up the scent."

He spoke lightly, but I sensed a tension beneath his words. I wondered if I was imagining things, if the doubt was just in my head.

My thoughts drifted. "The civic arts center?"

I pictured the sprawling lawns, the neat flowerbeds, the way the sun set behind the old clock tower.

"The mayor wants to revive the city’s women’s leadership program."

He sounded tired, distracted. I wondered if he was thinking about something—or someone—else.

The current mayor has only been in office for three years, a young leader with big ambitions.

Everyone in town had an opinion about him. But Nathaniel always spoke of him with respect, even admiration.

Nathaniel didn't want to say more. He leaned in, wanting to kiss me again. "You're so full of life. Do you still have room for me in your heart?"

His words were teasing. But there was a hint of insecurity in his eyes. I smiled, brushing my fingers against his cheek.

"Jealous? You? Who could be busier than you—rolling in at midnight every night."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling. I tried to hold onto that moment, to believe in the version of him that belonged only to me.

"It's my fault." Nathaniel picked me up in his arms. He laughed. "Let me make it up to you."

He carried me to the sofa, his laughter echoing through the room. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed.

After that day, Nathaniel came home early from work.

The staff noticed, whispering about how the young couple seemed closer than ever. I tried to believe it, to ignore the nagging doubts in my heart.

Everyone in the household kept saying we looked closer than ever.

Mariah winked at me over breakfast, and even Martha seemed pleased. Her stern face softened whenever she caught us laughing together.

My mother-in-law was kind and let me skip the daily check-ins.

She gave me more freedom, encouraging me to spend my days as I pleased. I felt grateful, but also a little lost.

After meals, I accompanied her in the garden. She patted my hand and smiled. "You and Nathaniel are so loving. Give the family a grandbaby soon."

Her words were gentle. But the expectation was clear. I nodded, feeling the weight of tradition settle on my shoulders.

I blushed and tucked my face against her shoulder. She sighed, "For women, a man's affection can come and go—but children are what lasts."

Her voice was wistful, almost sad. I wondered if she was speaking from experience, if she knew the ache of wanting more than what you were given.

That night, Nathaniel returned late again. I got up to help him change. As I approached, I smelled that faint floral scent again.

The scent was stronger this time, clinging to his collar. My heart pounded as I reached for his tie, fingers trembling.

"What's wrong?" Nathaniel held my hand to his cheek and kissed it.

His lips were warm. But I felt cold all over. I tried to smile, to pretend everything was fine.

I shook my head, my fingers straightening his collar, then suddenly paused.

My hand froze. For a moment, the world stopped spinning.

On the side of Nathaniel's neck, deep inside his white undershirt, there was a faint pink lipstick mark.

It was barely there, just a whisper of color. But I knew what it meant. My breath caught in my throat.

The color was so light it was almost invisible, and in summer it could easily be mistaken for a mosquito bite.

But at that moment, I was certain it was a lipstick mark left by a woman—and I knew it was left on purpose.

A chill ran down my spine. I tried to steady myself, to think of any other explanation, but none came.

Looking up, Nathaniel's handsome face still wore a smile, his eyes gentle, but I felt as if I had fallen into an icy abyss, a pain so real it took my breath away.

The pain was sharp, immediate, like stepping barefoot on broken glass. I wanted to scream, to run, but I stood there, frozen.

It felt like a knife twisting in my heart, tearing me up inside. The pain was so raw I could barely breathe.

The hurt was physical, a hollow ache in my chest. I wondered if I would ever feel whole again.

"What's wrong?" Nathaniel wrapped his arm around my waist. I leaned into his arms, hiding my expression. "...I missed you."

The words tasted like ash. I let him hold me, burying my face in his shirt, willing myself not to cry.

Nathaniel laughed softly, kissed my hair, picked me up, and carried me into the bedroom.

He held me close, as if nothing was wrong. I let him, too tired to fight, too broken to care.

That night, I turned Nathaniel down, saying I wasn't feeling well.

I turned away from him in bed, staring at the wall until I finally drifted off, my heart heavy and sore.