Chapter 1The Careless Heart

We were in the thick of wedding planning, curled up on the couch watching a movie, when I felt Eric’s hand drift toward his pocket. He stopped himself, his fingers hesitating in mid-air before retreating to the coffee table to grab a mint instead.

"Giving up smoking?" I asked casually.

His fingertips paused on the candy. "You said you hated the smell, didn't you?" he murmured with a faint smile.

I tilted my head, studying him. "I've been trying to get you to quit for years. Why the sudden change of heart?"

He avoided my gaze, unwrapping the mint with a soft crinkle of paper. "Someone told me… smokers die young."

The crinkling sound seemed to echo in the quiet room.

"Who told you that?" I pressed, my eyes fixed on his profile.

His movement hitched for a fraction of a second before he let out a relaxed laugh. "Who do you think? A doctor, of course."

* * *

On the screen, light and shadow danced across a dramatic scene. Eric popped a mint into my mouth. The intense, cool flavor spread across my tongue, so sharp it made my eyes water.

My fingers curled into a fist without me realizing it. The movie’s dialogue dissolved into meaningless noise, my focus entirely gone. The sweet, clean scent of citrus that clung to Eric’s shirt suddenly felt foreign, and I subtly shifted away from him.

"Did you change your shower gel?"

"Hm?" Eric glanced down at the now-empty space in his arms, his expression carefully neutral. "Just grabbed something random at the supermarket."

"You go to the supermarket by yourself now?" I let out a soft, skeptical laugh, looking him straight in the eye.

A flicker of something—was it panic?—crossed his face before he composed himself, shrugging with forced nonchalance. "They opened a new one next to the office. A colleague dragged me along during our lunch break."

It was a seamless excuse, but Eric was never the type to be easily "dragged along." He wasn't a people-pleaser.

I said nothing more, just snuggled back into his embrace. But the unfamiliar scent wrapping around me was a persistent, unsettling hum beneath the surface of our evening.

All the little details I’d brushed aside began to connect, forming a thread that pulled my heart down, heavy as lead.

Eric, who despised oranges, had bought calamansi-flavored mints.

He’d switched his shower gel to a citrus scent—a fragrance so refined it was definitely not a generic supermarket brand.

Later that night, when I used his phone to order takeout, the app's top recommendation was a restaurant famous for its sweet and sour dishes. Eric hated overly sweet food as much as I did.

The glass in my hand trembled, water spilling over my knuckles. The icy chill on my skin did nothing to quell the sharp, rising panic in my chest.

Eric was cheating on me.

He was cheating on me with a girl who smelled of citrus and loved sweet and sour food.