I Can Smell Every Lie, and My Husband Reeked of Betrayal Chapter 03

I Can Smell Every Lie, and My Husband Reeked of Betrayal Chapter 03

“Shannon—that Chloe you had me check? Her feed only goes back three days.”

The next afternoon, Mallory sent over Chloe’s profile.

Only three posts visible.

The first is a photo of a little girl in a princess dress. Her caption read: Wren’s whole world is her mom.

The second is a bowl of hand-pulled noodles. The caption read: Late night, just me—learning to make peace with myself.

The final one is a bunch of gardenias. No caption.

Every photo glowed warm yellow, run through that artsy, low-key filter.

Like a woman who’d been through hardship and stayed soft, sighing gently at the world.

Mallory said, “Divorced less than a year. Says the ex cheated. Got next to nothing in the settlement. Raising the kid solo.”

“Sounds pretty tragic.”

“Tragic for her, sure. What’s that got to do with your partner?”

I didn’t reply. The doorbell rang.

I opened the door.

A woman stood in the hallway, beaming.

Round face. Long hair. A tiny mole under her lower lip.

Two big shopping bags in her hands.

And gardenia—it hit me the instant the door opened, so thick it was like she’d been marinated in the stuff.

My stomach flipped on the spot.

“Hi, Shannon! I’m Chloe—I sat next to Finn in high school!”

She talked so fast. She smiled too big.

Before I could invite her in, she’d kicked off her shoes, walked into the living room, set the bags on the coffee table, and settled onto my couch, glancing around the room.

“Just like Finn said—you keep a lovely house.”

I stood there, watching her on my couch.

I did what I always do—I smelled.

The gardenia was so thick I couldn’t make out a thing. She was sealed inside a whole shell of it.

I could smell nothing. Not one emotion. In over twenty years, never once.

Everyone has a scent.

Every single one.

But this woman, beneath the gardenia, carried no trace of any feeling at all.

“Shannon, why don’t you sit?”

She patted the cushion beside her.

This is my own house. And she was offering me a seat.

I sat down in the armchair across from her.

“How do you know where I live?”

Chloe blinked. “Finn told me.”

She started unpacking. Children’s soft clothes. A stuffed lovey. A can of imported formula.

“This brand is the best. Wren drank it when she was little.”

She lifted her face to me, all concern. “Shannon, how long have you two been building your life together?”

“We’ve been building our life together for years.”

“The hardest early days are almost behind you.”

She sighed, and her eyes went suddenly red.

“When I was building a life with Wren’s father, he never showed up for any of our important plans. So by the time we divorced, there was nothing to hold onto.”

Tossed off like it just slipped out. It sounded rehearsed.

But I couldn’t smell whether any of it was true.

The gardenia was a wall. I couldn’t see through it.

“Shannon… do you not want me here?”

She looked up at me suddenly, her voice going very soft.

“I can feel it. You seem a little upset. Did Finn forget to mention I was coming? That’s so like him—he’s been like a scatterbrain since high school.”