On our third wedding anniversary, he stayed at the hospital with his first love and only sent me a text message. "Serena's depression relapsed. I won't be coming home tonight." No apology, no explanation. For three years, it had always been like this. For his first love, he trampled on my dignity again and again. She stole my aromatherapy formulas to launch her brand. She shattered my late professor's legacy on the floor. When I asked him why, he frowned. "She needs this success to overcome her depression." "Can't you just behave and stop acting like a difficult woman?" My love for him had already died. I left the signed divorce agreement in the villa and flew to France. The sunlight in Provence was blinding. I picked up a male college student. He looked just like my deceased first love. His features, his outline, even the way he wore a white shirt was identical. I took him walking through the small town and kissed him right in front of Damian. Damian came chasing after me and knelt down, saying he'd get plastic surgery to look like Sebastian, begging me to stay. I laughed. "Damian, you're not even qualified to be a substitute."
Natalie's POV On our third wedding anniversary, Damian stood me up. I sat in my aromatherapy boutique, staring at the French dinner on the table that had long gone cold, sitting motionless for a long time. My phone screen lit up. It was a brief message from Damian. "Serena's depression relapsed. I'm at the hospital with her. I won't be coming home tonight." No apology, no explanation, just a matter-of-fact notification. I stared at those words for a few seconds, then pressed the lock button. I stood up and dumped the carefully prepared steak and red wine into the trash can without the slightest hesitation. A year ago, I might have called him in tears, demanding to know whose husband he really was, or even hysterically rushed to the hospital to try to win him back from Serena. But now, I couldn't even be bothered to sigh. Because the death of a heart is a long and irreversible process. At two in the morning, the door lock of the villa clicked softly. Damian pushed the door open, bringing in a wave of cold air, and took off his coat that reeked of hospital disinfectant and some sickeningly sweet commercial perfume. I was familiar with that perfume smell. It was Serena's favorite Sweet Bomb, cheap and pungent. As a professional aromatherapist, I was extremely sensitive to scents. In the past, I had fought with Damian countless times over this smell, only to be met with the man's impatient rebuke. "Serena is sick. Can't you stop being so unreasonable?" Now, when I smelled this scent, I only felt a wave of physical nausea rising in my stomach, but no longer had any desire to argue. "Why aren't you asleep yet?" Seeing me sitting on the sofa, Damian frowned slightly, his tone carrying a hint of habitual wariness. He probably thought I was going to throw a tantrum again because he came home late. "I was waiting for you." I stood up, walked to the table, and handed him a small bottle of sleep-aid essential oil I had just formulated. "You've been having serious insomnia lately. This is a new formula. Just put a few drops on your pillow." Damian froze for a moment, clearly not expecting me to be so calm. He took the essential oil. "Serena was very emotionally unstable today. She kept holding onto my hand and wouldn't let go. I couldn't leave." For once, he offered an explanation, seemingly making excuses for breaking our date. "Mm, I understand." I responded coolly and turned toward the bedroom. "Get some rest early." Damian stood there, gripping the bottle of oil, his frown deepening. Damian irritably tugged at his tie. Back in the bedroom, I was already lying down with my back to him. After showering, Damian lay on the other side. Between us was a distance that could fit an iceberg. He habitually applied the essential oil to his pillow. This was a scent I had custom-made exclusively for him, one of a kind in the entire world. Soothed by the fragrance, Damian quickly fell asleep. And I slowly opened my eyes in the darkness. Listening to the man's steady breathing, I exhaled softly. I gently lifted the covers and got out of bed, walked to the study, and opened an encrypted folder at the bottom of a drawer. Inside lay a prepared Divorce Agreement. In the lower right corner, at the wife's signature line, my name was already written neatly. There were thirty days left until I completely left. I took a deep breath and locked the drawer again. Damian, the debt I owed you for the past three years, I've already repaid with countless nights of companionship. From now on, we owe each other nothing.
Natalie's POV The next morning, I prepared breakfast as usual. When Damian came downstairs, he looked more relaxed than the night before. He sat down at the dining table, picked up his coffee and took a sip, then spoke in a seemingly casual manner. "The water pipes burst in Serena's apartment, and the landlord can't fix them right away. She's scared to stay in a hotel alone. It might trigger her depression. I told her she could stay in our guest room for a while." His tone wasn't asking. it was informing. Even as he said this, his body tensed slightly, bracing himself for my outburst. After all, no wife would accept having her husband's "good friend" move into their home. However, I only paused in cutting the bread, looked at him for a second, then calmly nodded. "Okay, I understand. I'll have the housekeeper prepare the guest room." The knife and fork cutting Damian's sausage suddenly halted, making a harsh scraping sound in the quiet dining room. He looked at me in disbelief. "You don't mind?" Damian couldn't help but ask, his brow furrowed tightly. I asked back: "If I minded, would you tell her not to come?" Damian choked, then said in a low voice: "Serena's mental state is very fragile right now. As her friend, I can't ignore her." "So, since the result won't change, what's the point of me minding?" I smiled faintly. "The house has plenty of rooms. As long as she doesn't mind." That afternoon, Serena moved in with large and small pieces of luggage. She wore a pure white knit dress, her long hair draped softly over her shoulders, her eyes slightly red, looking pitiful and delicate. "Natalie, I'm sorry to intrude on you both." Serena stood in the living room, nervously clutching the hem of her dress. "I promise, as soon as the apartment is fixed, I'll move out immediately." I watched her performance without responding. Seeing this, Damian immediately shielded Serena behind him, his tone carrying a hint of reproach. "Natalie, Serena is a guest. Show some courtesy." How interesting. I hadn't said anything, yet somehow my attitude was bad? "The guest room is on the second floor, first door on the left. The housekeeper has already changed the bedding." Too lazy to deal with them, I turned to leave for my shop. "Wait!" Serena suddenly covered her nose, her brow furrowed tightly, looking very uncomfortable. "Damian, what's that smell in this house? It's so pungent. I'm getting dizzy and my chest feels tight..." Damian immediately supported her anxiously. "What's wrong? Is your depression causing somatic symptoms again?" He turned to look around, his gaze landing on the diffuser operating in the corner of the living room. It was a top-grade neroli essential oil I had specially formulated to purify the air. "Natalie, get rid of all this aromatherapy nonsense!" Damian ordered sharply. "Don't you know Serena is sensitive to scents?" I stopped in my tracks. That so-called "aromatherapy nonsense." It came from precious raw materials I'd spent countless nights collecting from around the world. Once, Damian said he loved having this calming scent in the house. Now, because of Serena's one word, "pungent," it had become trash. "Fine." I didn't argue. I walked over and unplugged the diffuser directly. Not only that, I called the housekeeper and had all the aromatherapy equipment and essential oil bottles from the living room, hallway, and even Damian's study packed into boxes. "What are you doing? I only said to remove the one in the living room. I didn't tell you to take away the ones in my study too." He said in a low voice. "Since we're removing them, might as well do it thoroughly, so Miss Serena won't feel dizzy from catching even a whiff." I sealed the last box with tape. I removed the aromatherapy, and with it, the last trace of myself in this house. Damian opened his mouth to say something, but Serena timely leaned into his embrace, weakly calling out. "Damian, my head hurts so much..." Damian's attention was instantly diverted. He immediately lifted Serena in his arms and carried her upstairs. I stood there, watching their intimate figures disappear, and couldn't help but laugh. I took out my phone and called the real estate agent. "Mr. Wilson, my aromatherapy shop. You can put it on the market now. Yes, the sooner the better."
Natalie's POV A week later, the annual business gala was held at a five-star hotel in the city center. As the wife of the CEO of Harrison Group, I was supposed to accompany Damian. I wore a black evening gown with minimalist tailoring, my long hair pinned up, without any excessive embellishment. When Damian saw me, a flash of amazement crossed his eyes, but it was quickly concealed. We had just arrived at the banquet hall and hadn't yet had a chance to greet several important business partners when a soft voice called from behind. "Damian..." I turned around to see Serena standing not far away in an extremely flamboyant pink strapless gown. Around her neck, she wore a dazzling pink diamond necklace. It was the piece Damian had purchased at auction last month for a high price. At the time, the media had widely reported that he spent so much money to give me a surprise for our anniversary. Turns out, the surprise went to Serena. "Why are you here?" Damian frowned and quickly walked over. "Didn't I tell you to rest at home?" "Being alone at home was too stifling. I wanted to get some fresh air. A friend had an extra invitation, so I came." Serena looked at him timidly, then glanced at me. "Natalie, you don't mind, do you?" I didn't spare her even a glance. "This is a public venue. What's there for me to mind?" The gala officially began, and Damian was surrounded by a group of business tycoons offering toasts. Serena stayed close by his side the entire time, as if she were the rightful Mrs. Harrison. And Damian naturally blocked drinks for her, quietly reminding her to avoid cold beverages. Their intimate gestures drew whispers from the socialites and wealthy ladies around. "Mr. Harrison treats that Miss Serena so well. In contrast, Mrs. Harrison is left ignored." "It's a business marriage, after all. Where's the real affection? She's just a placeholder." "I heard Mr. Harrison gave that pink diamond necklace to Miss Serena too. What a humiliating position for the wife." These gossips floated into my ears without any attempt at discretion. In the past, I would have felt embarrassed, humiliated, even cried. But now, I simply picked up a glass of champagne and walked to the quiet terrace alone, enjoying the city's night view. Just then, a voice with a heavy French accent spoke beside me. "Beautiful lady, you have a very special scent about you." I turned to see a blonde, blue-eyed foreign man looking at me intently. I recognized him as the internationally renowned master perfumer, Laurent. "It's vetiver mixed with cedar and just a touch of oud, isn't it? This ratio is extremely bold, yet surprisingly harmonious, like a forest after a rainstorm." Laurent didn't hold back his praise. I smiled faintly and responded in fluent French. "You're too kind. This is a personal fragrance I formulated myself. I call it Ashes." "Ashes?" A flash of surprise crossed Laurent's eyes. "A very fitting name. After everything burns away, what remains is the purest essence. Miss Natalie, your talent is astonishing. I'm currently setting up a perfume laboratory in Grasse, France. Would you be interested in joining my team?" This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the holy grail every perfumer dreamed of. Without the slightest hesitation, I smiled and extended my hand. "I'd be delighted." Damian suddenly strode over, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me to his side, his eyes coldly sweeping over Laurent. "Sorry, my wife can't hold her liquor. I need to take her away now." Without regard for my struggles, he forcibly pulled me out of the banquet hall. "What are you doing? Let go!" He was gripping my wrist so hard it hurt. I snapped at him coldly. Damian shoved me against the corridor wall, hands planted on either side of me, his eyes dark. "Natalie, have you no shame? Flirting with another man on the terrace right in front of me?" I found this absurd. "We were discussing perfume, talking about work. Damian, do you think everyone is like you, with nothing but filthy thoughts in their head?" "Does talking about work require smiling so happily?" Damian said through gritted teeth. Just as we were at an impasse, a cry came from the end of the corridor. "Something's wrong! Miss Serena has fainted!" Damian's body stiffened. Almost reflexively, he released me and ran toward the voice. I leaned against the cold wall, watching the man's unhesitating departure, and looked down at my reddened wrist. Damian, your possessiveness is disgustingly cheap.
Natalie's POV Serena's "fainting" was just a case of low blood sugar, yet Damian treated it like a crisis, not only rushing her to a private hospital overnight but also staying by her side for two whole days. I didn't ask a single question, because I was busy handling the transfer of the aromatherapy shop. The shop had found a suitable buyer, and the price negotiations went smoothly. Today was my last time at the shop to pack my personal belongings. On the shelves were many rare essential oils and antique perfume bottles I had collected. The most precious was a small bottle of ultra-pure Bulgarian rose absolute. A legacy from my late professor. Worth a fortune. And more than that, my spiritual anchor. I carefully packed it into a shock-proof box. The wind chimes on the shop door suddenly rang. I looked up to see Serena, wearing sunglasses and a mask, walk in surrounded by a group of bodyguards. "Natalie, so you're here." Serena removed her sunglasses and surveyed the aromatherapy shop, a flash of undisguised jealousy in her eyes. "Can I help you?" I didn't stop what I was doing, my tone indifferent. "Damian said he's been having insomnia lately. I want to personally pick out a calming aromatherapy for him." Serena walked to the shelf and casually picked up a bottle of essential oil to examine. "Natalie, you won't mind me choosing something from your shop to give him, will you?" "Pick whatever you want. Pay at the counter when you're done." I didn't even look up. Serena's gaze scanned around the shop and finally landed on the exquisite shock-proof box beside me. "What's this? It's packaged so nicely, it must be something special, right?" Serena suddenly reached out and grabbed the box. "Don't touch it!" I shouted sharply. But it was too late. Serena deliberately let it slip. "Oops," she said, and the box crashed heavily onto the hard marble floor. The crisp sound of shattering glass was especially piercing in the quiet shop. The rich, pure scent of roses instantly permeated the air. It was my professor's life's work, my most treasured possession, now reduced to a sticky mess of shards on the floor. I froze in place, my mind blank for a moment. Looking at the fragments, my hands trembled uncontrollably. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Serena put on a panicked expression, her eyes instantly reddening. "Natalie, please don't be angry. I'll pay you back however much it costs..." Just then, Damian strode into the shop. As soon as he entered, he saw Serena with red-rimmed eyes standing to one side while I stared at the broken glass on the floor, the atmosphere tense. "What happened?" Damian pulled Serena into his arms, frowning. "Damian, I accidentally broke something of Natalie's. She seems really angry..." Serena leaned into his embrace pitifully, tears falling on cue. Damian glanced at the glass shards on the floor and looked at me impatiently. "It's just a perfume bottle. Serena didn't do it on purpose. Do you really need to look like you want to kill someone?" I slowly raised my head, looking at this man I'd shared a bed with for three years. He didn't even ask what she broke before rushing to take Serena's side. "Just a perfume bottle?" I softly repeated his words. I didn't scream hysterically, nor did I lunge at them like a shrew. I simply walked to the counter, took out an invoice, quickly wrote down a string of numbers, then walked up to Damian and slapped the invoice against his chest. "This is my professor's rare legacy piece, with a market value of three million dollars, but to me, it's priceless." I said, "Since Serena says she'll compensate, then please settle the bill for her, Mr. Harrison. Three million dollars. Not a penny less." Damian froze. "Natalie, are you insane? How could something in this dump be worth three million? You're extorting me!" Damian said through clenched teeth. "You can choose not to pay. I'll call the police right now and check the security footage." I held up my phone, unyielding. Damian looked at me, his chest heaving violently. He suddenly pulled out his checkbook, scrawled three million on it, and slammed it on the table. "Natalie, you've really fallen into the money pit! I was so wrong about you!" With that, he pulled Serena away and left the aromatherapy shop without looking back. I stood there, looking at the three-million-dollar check. I crouched down and picked up the glass shards soaked in essential oil with my bare hands, piece by piece. The sharp edges cut my fingers, blood mixing with the scent of roses dripping onto the floor. I didn't cry. Because this three million was exactly enough to cover the admission fee for the Grasse laboratory. Damian, this debt between us. We're even.
Natalie's POV The shop transfer procedures were completed within three days. Watching the sign being taken down from the storefront, I felt little attachment. I cashed the check, transferred it to the French laboratory's account, and booked a one-way ticket to Paris for two weeks later. Damian knew nothing about any of this. I heard he'd been busy helping Serena launch a new lifestyle brand, leaving early and returning late, rarely even coming home. Until one night, late, Damian returned to the villa. He irritably loosened his tie and pushed open the bedroom door. I was sitting at the desk, writing intently under a small lamp. Hearing the sound, I didn't look up. Damian walked behind me, suppressing the anger in his heart, and said in a low voice. "I have a terrible headache. Go make me a bottle of that sleep-aid oil like before." "There isn't any." My tone was flat, my pen never pausing. "If there isn't any, then make some! You have all those materials in your shop. Can't you even make one bottle of essential oil?" Damian's tone grew heavier, carrying the commanding tone of someone in authority. I stopped writing and turned to look at him. "I'm out of materials, and the shop is closed. If Mr. Harrison is really having insomnia, you can go to the hospital for sleeping pills." Damian froze, his brow instantly knotting into a tight frown. "The shop is closed? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?" "No need to." I turned back and continued organizing my materials. Damian suddenly reached out and slammed my notebook shut, forcing me to look at him. "Natalie, what exactly are you throwing a tantrum about? Is it because Serena broke your thing, or because I haven't been spending time with you? You weren't like this before. Why have you become so unreasonable?" "Unreasonable?" I laughed lightly. "Damian, in your eyes, as long as I don't go along with what you and Serena want, I'm being unreasonable, right?" He took a deep breath, trying to soften his tone. "Fine, I won't argue with you. Serena's brand is launching next week, but the signature fragrance she's been working on isn't quite right. You're a professional. Tomorrow, bring out your formula book and help her adjust it. Consider it a favor to me." I looked at him, feeling like I was watching an utterly absurd joke. He actually wanted me to hand over my life's work to the woman who destroyed my professor's legacy? "Impossible." I refused flatly. "Natalie!" Damian's patience completely ran out. "Can you stop being so selfish? Serena's depression is just starting to improve. This brand is very important to her! You're just sharing one formula. What's the big deal?" "Since it's no big deal, let her formulate it herself." I stood up, looking directly into his angry eyes. "Damian, I'd rather destroy my work, throw it away, than let Serena use even a drop of it." Damian laughed bitterly, his eyes cold. "Fine, very good. Natalie, don't forget. When you opened that shabby shop, Harrison Group invested money too. If you won't help, I'll immediately withdraw the investment and make sure your shop can never open in this city again!" He thought this threat would be enough to make me comply. After all, that was my life's work. I just looked at him calmly and smiled. "Do whatever you want." After saying that, I walked past him straight into the bathroom. Damian stood frozen in place, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. What he didn't know was that the shop no longer belonged to me. The leverage he used to threaten me was nothing but a ridiculous empty shell.
Natalie's POV A week later, Serena's personal lifestyle brand "Serena's Time" held a grand launch event at the city's most luxurious hotel. Not only did Damian personally appear in support, but he also mobilized all of Harrison Group's PR resources to promote it for her. The core highlight of the launch was a custom fragrance called "First Love." When the big screen displayed the composition and the top, heart, and base notes of this fragrance, I clenched my fists. Cedar, white tea, mixed with an extremely minute amount of bitter orange leaf. This was the competition piece I had spent half a year preparing for the International Perfumery Competition. "Rebirth." The formula ratios were precise to the milligram. Besides myself, only one other person could have accessed my formula book. I stood up, pushed through the crowd, and walked straight to the VIP lounge backstage. The moment I opened the door, Damian was bent down adjusting Serena's dress, the two looking at each other with smiles, a painfully warm scene. Hearing the noise, Damian looked up and saw me standing in the doorway, his brow instinctively furrowing. "What are you doing here?" I ignored him, walked straight to the table, picked up the bottle of "First Love" fragrance being used as a display piece, and looked at Serena. "Where did you steal this formula from?" Serena's face went pale. She immediately hid behind Damian, her voice trembling. "Natalie, what are you saying? I formulated this myself..." "You formulated it yourself?" I pressed forward step by step. "What's the extraction temperature for bitter orange leaf? What's the fusion ratio of white tea and cedar? Can you tell me?" "Enough!" Damian pushed me away and shielded the swaying Serena, shouting sharply. "Natalie, are you done with your madness!" I was pushed back two steps, my waist hitting the edge of the table, a sharp pain shooting through me. I stared straight at Damian. "You gave it to her, didn't you? You went through my formula book." Damian's eyes flickered, but he quickly regained his cold, righteous composure. "So what if I did?" He admitted it, his tone even carrying a trace of condescending arrogance. "Serena's brand urgently needs a blockbuster product to break into the market. Your formula was perfect for it. You're so talented. You can just formulate another one for the competition. But Serena can't. She needs this success to build confidence and overcome her depression." A roar echoed in my ears. My world completely collapsed. The man before me was terrifyingly unfamiliar. In Damian's eyes, my life's work, my dreams, all those sleepless nights. They meant nothing next to Serena's so-called "confidence." My talent had become a cheap gift he used to please another woman. "Damian, that was my competition entry," I said softly. "In the perfumery world, stealing someone's formula can ruin your career." "As long as you don't say anything, no one will know." Damian adjusted his cuffs dismissively. "As compensation, Harrison Group will transfer five million to your account. This matter ends here." Five million. He bought out my life's work, and with it, the last shred of my feelings for him. I didn't cry or make a scene. I just quietly looked at Damian, for a long time. "Fine." I nodded gently. I carefully placed the fragrance bottle on the table and turned toward the door. As my hand gripped the doorknob, I stopped but didn't turn around. "Damian, the formula is yours to give. I wish you both eternal happiness." The door closed softly. There were three days left until I left. The atmosphere in the villa became eerily quiet. I sat on the living room carpet, organizing several small cardboard boxes. "What are you packing?" Damian walked over. "Some old things I don't need anymore. I'm planning to donate them." I didn't even look up, placing some old books into a box. Damian didn't think much of it. He sat down beside me, pulled out a velvet jewelry box from his pocket, and placed it in front of me. "Open it and see." His tone carried a hint of expectation. I stopped what I was doing and looked at the ring inside the box, sparkling with brilliant light from a pink diamond. Very beautiful, very expensive. But I only found it ironic. He shattered my life's work, trampled on my dignity, then tried to buy me off with a stone. This was Damian's love. "Thank you, it's beautiful." I didn't refuse. I took the jewelry box and casually placed it on the table beside me without trying it on. Damian's brow furrowed. He was getting irritated. "You don't like it?" "I like it." I gave a perfunctory response and continued organizing the box. Damian grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him, trying to kiss my lips. "Natalie, it's been so long since we..." His voice was low and husky, carrying a hint of suggestion. I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. "I'm very tired today. I don't want to." My rejection was undisguised.Damian's hand froze in mid-air, his expression instantly darkening. He stared at me for a long moment, then finally let out a cold laugh and stood up. "Fine, I won't force you. Tomorrow is your birthday. I've reserved a table at the rooftop restaurant. Seven o'clock in the evening. Don't be late." With that, he turned and strode upstairs, his back radiating suppressed anger. I watched him go, my gaze returning to the cardboard box filled with "old items." Inside wasn't old books at all, but everything Damian had given me over the past three years. Including the wedding album that had been flipped through countless times. I tossed the pink diamond jewelry box in as well and sealed it with tape. Tomorrow was my birthday, and also the day I flew to Paris. Damian, you're destined to wait in vain for this birthday dinner. The next day, at the international airport departure hall. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking at my phone screen. I calmly powered it off, removed the SIM card, and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. "Attention passengers traveling to Paris, flight AF112 is now boarding..." A gentle female voice came through the speakers. I stood up and pulled my single small suitcase. Without looking back at this city I'd lived in for three years, I strode toward the boarding gate.
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