All Past Love Locked Away

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I can smell when a heart turns. Pure love is sweet; when it rots, it reeks of vinegar. This gift made me a fidelity appraiser, hired daily by women to sniff out cheating.

Then came an odd request from a student wanting me to test her wealthy sponsor. Fidgeting with her bag, she confessed he flew home at midnight to console her, stayed up talking, and even kissed her while she slept. Please follow us today, she asked, smiling shyly.

I agreed, missing the malice in her eyes. An hour later, trailing them, I breathed in the thick sweetness of real romance. As I reached for my phone, he turned, and I froze. It was my husband, Hampton.

Only a few hours earlier, he had held me in our kitchen, kissing me deeply and promising he would be away on a three-day business trip.

My mind went entirely blank. Without even saying goodbye to the client, I hailed a cab and rushed back home.

Not long after I arrived, the front door clicked open. Hampton walked in, immediately pulling me into his arms.

The air around him was tainted with a faint, sour tang, heavily masked by a strange, floral perfume.

I stiffened, my nose wrinkling. "Did you change your cologne?"

His arms tightened around me, his body freezing for a fraction of a second. "Oh, the company just hired a new assistant. We had to work closely on a project earlier. I must have picked up her scent. Ill be more careful."

"A new assistant?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

A look of genuine pride and fondness washed over his face. "Yes, Erica. She's the student I've been sponsoring. She's incredibly driven. Every time I see her working, it reminds me of how hard you used to push yourself when we were younger."

He kissed my forehead, a gesture that felt more like a distraction than affection. "What's with the interrogation? Surely you aren't jealous of a young student?"

I didn't answer. I merely held my breath, desperate to escape the suffocating mix of cheap perfume and rising sourness.

"Is that so? For a moment, I thought you used the business trip as an excuse to see someone else," I said, trying to sound playful, though my chest felt as if it were being squeezed by iron bands.

The sour scent in the air spiked instantly, sharp and bitter.

Hampton averted his eyes. "You and your jokes. You must be hungry. Ill go make us some dinner."

In that single moment, my heart plummeted into a freezing abyss.

We had been together since we were eighteen, sweethearts who had survived everything side by side. Hamptons heart had always belonged entirely to me.

When I was twenty, my abusive father had raised a wooden club to strike me. Hampton had thrown himself over my body, taking the heavy blow instead. As blood dripped down his forehead, he had looked back at my sobbing form and smiled. Dont cry, Celeste. As long as Im here, no one will ever hurt you again.

When I was twenty-eight, my landlord had secretly filmed me in my own apartment and leaked the videos online. Standing on the edge of a rooftop, feeling utterly worthless, I had wanted to jump. Hampton had flown eight hundred miles, rushing up to the roof to pull me into his arms, sobbing. Celeste, look at me. This is not your fault.

Through all those years, the scent of his love had remained perfectly, unbreakably sweet. Until today.

I clutched my shirt, trying to cling to any shred of hope. What if my ability was malfunctioning? What if I was just letting my anxiety get the better of me?

I held onto that hope until bedtime.

I watched Hampton as he stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair. "Hampton, do you believe a person can love two people at the same time?"

His movements halted for a single beat.

That split second felt like a needle driving straight into my eye.

He resumed drying his hair, his voice entirely casual. "Are you still overthinking things because of Erica? Stop worrying. I only love you."

He leaned down to press a soft kiss against my cheek, but I could smell it, the sudden, overwhelming wave of sourness that flooded the air the moment the lie left his lips.

The next morning, Hampton prepared breakfast just as he always did.

The milk was warmed to the exact temperature I liked, a habit he had kept for five years of marriage. But today, he took a photo of the breakfast plate, smiling as he typed a message on his phone.

The sour scent grew even thicker. I chewed on my toast, but it tasted like ash.

Suddenly, a loud, frantic ringtone shattered the silence. Hamptons face turned pale.

A weak, sobbing female voice came through the speaker. "Hampton, my head hurts so much. I feel so sick."

He stood up immediately, grabbing his coat and rushing toward the door, completely forgetting his car keys on the table. "Im on my way."

He paused at the door, covering the microphone, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Celeste, something urgent came up at the office. Take a taxi today."

I sat in silence as the front door slammed shut.

After a long while, I stood up, took his spare keys, and went down to his car.

Inside, a delicate new ornament hung from the rearview mirror. The car freshener had been replaced with a heavy, cloying scent of freesia. I had always despised strong floral scents, which was why he had always chosen subtle woodsy colognes in the past.

I reached into the side pocket of the driver's door and pulled out a lipstick.

It was a bright, youthful pink. It was a shade I would never wear, meant for someone much younger.

My fingers clenched around the tube, my nails digging into my palms.

On my drive to work, I passed a high-end restaurant I had wanted to visit for months. Every time I had brought it up to Hampton, he had brushed me off. The reservations are too difficult to get, Celeste. Besides, I'm too busy with work. You should go with your friends.

Instinctively, I pulled the car over and walked inside.

There, by the window, Hampton was sitting across from Erica, gently stroking her cheek.

In that instant, a breathtakingly sweet fragrance filled my senses. It was the scent of Hamptons pure, untainted love, but it wasn't directed at me. It was entirely for her.

My vision blurred, but no tears fell.

"Hampton!"

I lost all my dignity, screaming his name as I marched toward their table. The quiet chatter of the restaurant died instantly.

"Celeste?!" Hampton gasped, staring at me in absolute shock. "What are you doing here?"

He stood up, instinctively shielding Erica, whose face had gone pale with fright.

Standing before me, the sweet scent on Hampton vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, toxic sourness that choked my lungs. His love for her had completely eclipsed his love for me, proven by the way he stood protectively in front of her.

"My husband is about to kiss another woman, and I'm not allowed to be here?" I laughed, the sound hollow and sharp.

Erica burst into tears, shrinking back behind him.

Hampton wiped her tears away, looking at me with a heavy sigh. "I am her benefactor, Celeste. Erica is young, shes just confused about her feelings of dependency."

He paused, his voice hardening slightly. "I sponsored her because she reminded me of how difficult your own childhood was. There is no need for you to act like this."

Erica peeked from behind his shoulder, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry, Celeste. I never wanted to come between you two. Its just that no one has ever treated me as well as Hampton has."

A fuse blew in my mind.

I lunged forward, grabbing Ericas arm, trying to drag her out from behind him. "You knew exactly what you were doing!"

"Hampton, help me!" Erica cried out, deliberately collapsing toward him.

"Celeste! Stop this!"

Hamptons face turned furious. His hand clamped around my wrist like an iron vise, squeezing so hard I was forced to let go.

The whispers around the restaurant grew louder.

"She can't even keep her husband, so she takes it out on a young student. How pathetic."

"He said he's just her sponsor. Shes completely overreacting."

"Look at her acting like a madwoman. No wonder her husband is looking elsewhere."

Several people pulled out their phones, recording the scene.

"Stop making a scene. Haven't you embarrassed us enough?" Hampton hissed through clenched teeth.

I looked at Erica, who was hiding a smug smile behind her hands.

Unable to contain the rage, I swung my hand and slapped her across the face.

She cried out, stumbling backward into Hamptons chest.

Seeing this, Hampton shoved me away with immense force.

I lost my balance, crashing hard onto the tiled floor. My arm swept a glass cup off the edge of a nearby table. It shattered, the sharp shards slicing deep into my forearm. Blood began to pool, mixing with the spilled water on the floor.

Hampton stared at his hands in disbelief, his voice shaking. "Celeste, I didn't mean to"

I couldn't hear him anymore.

A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my lower abdomen, accompanied by the suffocating, bitter stench of Hamptons betrayal.

My vision went dark, and I blacked out.

When I finally regained consciousness, the sharp smell of hospital disinfectant filled my nose.

Hampton was nowhere to be seen.

I sat up with great effort and reached for my phone. My inbox was empty, save for two messages Hampton had sent three hours ago.

The doctor said you're fine. You crossed a line today, Celeste.

Ive left for my business trip. Lets take some time apart to cool down.

My fingers trembled as I typed a reply, still clinging to a pathetic shred of hope. Is Erica with you?

I tapped send. A bright red exclamation mark flashed on the screen.

He had blocked me.

I stared at the screen, unable to deny the truth any longer. He didn't love me anymore.

For two days, Hampton made no attempt to contact me. When the nurse came to discharge me, she looked at me with deep sympathy.

"Mrs. Ward, your chart shows you are eight weeks pregnant. Is your husband not coming to pick you up?"

I was pregnant?

My hand slowly moved to my stomach. This child was entirely unplanned, and my mind spun in confusion.

As I hesitated, several patients walking by stared at me, whispering and pointing.

A sense of dread washed over me. I opened my phone with shaking hands.

My name was trending at the very top of the local news search.

Erica had posted a video online. In it, she wept bitterly, claiming she was a hard-working student who had earned her scholarship, only to be falsely accused of being a mistress by her sponsor's jealous wife. She claimed I had physically assaulted her and threatened to have her expelled.

In the comments, someone had leaked my past trauma, posting about how my landlord had filmed me, claiming I was a loose woman who had seduced the landlord myself.

The comments were a toxic tide of hatred.

Shes dirty herself, so she thinks everyone else is dirty too.

What kind of woman behaves like this? No wonder her husband wants out.

I'm at the hospital right now. The nurses say shes pregnant. Her husband should probably get a paternity test.

No! Thats not true! Its all lies!

I screamed in my mind, but looking up, I only saw the judgmental, disgusted stares of the people around me.

I stumbled out of the hospital, desperately calling Hampton.

If he would just answer, he would fix this. He knew the truth about the landlord. He would protect me.

The phone rang until it went to voicemail, over and over again.

My hand dropped, the phone slipping from my fingers and clattering onto the pavement. Tears finally spilled over.

I remembered how Hampton had been spending more and more time on his phone over the past year, always claiming it was work. Now I realized his attention had been entirely on Erica.

He wouldn't even take my calls anymore.

I let out a bitter laugh. Celeste, you are such a fool.

I will not wait for you anymore, Hampton.

I gathered what little strength I had left, hailed a cab, and went home.

When I woke up again, I was lying in our bedroom, changed into clean pajamas.

The door clicked open, and Hampton walked in carrying a bowl of warm porridge. Seeing me awake, he set the bowl down and tucked the blanket around me, his eyes showing a flicker of concern.

"I saw the news online. Ive already had the search results taken down."

"I was only gone for a couple of days. How did you manage to ruin yourself like this?"

I didn't answer. The air in the room was a sickening mix of sweet and sour, making my heart ache with a dull, constant pain.

Hampton blew on the porridge, his tone turning cold and accusatory. "But perhaps this is a good thing. This lesson should teach you not to make scenes anymore. Erica and I have a strictly professional relationship. Its not as dirty as you think."

Strictly professional?

I looked up, staring directly into his eyes. Those eyes, which used to look at me with absolute devotion, now held nothing but cold indifference.

"Hampton," my voice was barely a whisper. "I have a secret. I can smell betrayal."

"Years ago, you smelled incredibly sweet to me. There wasn't a single drop of sourness in you. It was like that from the moment we fell in love."

Hamptons face froze. "Celeste, you're exhausted. You're starting to hallucinate."

I ignored him, continuing quietly. "But everything changed the moment Erica appeared."

"Now, you smell sweet only when you think of her. When you look at me, you smell incredibly sour and bitter."

After a long silence, Hampton stood up, his expression hardening. "You need professional help. Get some rest."

I sat up, trying to grab his hand, but he stepped back, letting me fall forward.

At that moment, the front door clicked open. Erica walked into the living room, holding a paper bag.

I froze, watching her walk in as if she owned the place.

"Im just here to drop some things off," Erica said, her voice dripping with mock shyness. "Hampton forgot these at my apartment."

Instinctively, I snatched the bag from her hand and tipped it over.

Hamptons spare underwear and a half-empty box of condoms spilled onto the floor.

My hands shook violently. "Is this your strictly professional relationship?!"

A flash of panic crossed Hamptons face, and Erica immediately began to sob. "Celeste, please don't misunderstand! I must have grabbed the wrong bag by mistake!"

Hamptons attention shifted entirely to Erica, pulling her gently into his arms to comfort her.

The air in the room became thick with the sweet scent of their mutual affection, so strong it made me gag.

Hampton turned to look at me, his scent toward me turning entirely rancid. "Erica is still fragile from the online backlash. Im going to take her home. We'll talk when I get back."

I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood.

"Hampton," I called out, my voice cracking. "Its not over."

"Do you have any idea what they are saying about me online?" My voice trembled. "They are calling me a monster. Even if you took down the search results, the rumors are still spreading. They are dragging my past through the mud again."

His shoulders stiffened slightly.

"If..." I thought of the child in my womb, my throat tightening. "If Erica records a video clarifying the truth right now, I will forgive you. This is your last chance."

I reached for my phone.

"Enough!"

Hampton snapped, slapping the phone out of my hand.

"Celeste, you are out of control! A few comments online won't kill you! First you invent this ridiculous story about smelling love, and now you want to drag an innocent girl into your drama?!"

"Lest you forget, I still have the files from your landlords camera. Do I need to release them myself to make you behave?"

The threat hung in the air, cold and merciless.

My strength deserted me, and I collapsed onto the floor, staring at the man before me in absolute disbelief.

This was the same man who had deleted those files with shaking hands years ago, whispering that he would protect me. Now, he was using my greatest trauma to threaten me into silence.

The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth.

Hampton avoided my gaze, turning his back on me. "Calm down and think about what you want. Ill be back when youve cleared your head."

Without looking back, he took Ericas hand and left.

I lay on the cold floor, a sharp, unbearable pain tearing through my lower abdomen. Warm blood began to soak through my clothes.

I reached out weakly, trying to grab my phone to call for an ambulance, when a notification popped up on the screen.

It was a message from Erica, containing a link.

Do you like my gift, sister?

I opened the link. My old, private videos had been uploaded online, accompanied by a caption claiming this was the proof of my loose character.

The world blurred around me. I felt the last of my strength fade.

I pulled the pre-signed divorce papers from my drawer, smeared my bloody thumbprint across the signature line, and left them on the table.

I don't owe you anything anymore, Hampton.

Four days later, unable to reach me, Hampton finally rushed back to the apartment.

When he opened the door, there was no one home. There was only the dark, dried blood on the floor, and the blood-stained divorce papers resting on the coffee table.

His face turned instantly pale.