Fragrance Cannot Hide Decay

1 After gaining eighty pounds from severe hormone treatments, I became consumed by a suffocating insecurity. Yet my husband, Harry, a star cardiac surgeon, claimed he never cared. Every time he finished a major operation, he brought home a bottle of niche designer perfume for me. An entire wall glistening with fragile glass bottles became the single ray of light in my dull, dark existence. Until the day I dropped off lunch for him at the hospital and overheard him whispering to the new intern in the stairwell. His tone was impossibly gentle. "Being with you brings me a sense of peace and pleasure that nothing else can match." "My mood was so good today that I bought a bottle of perfume downstairs just to toss it to her. Consider it a cover-up scent for the fat girl." "Otherwise, going home to a bloated woman who reeks of bitter herbal medicine makes me dread even stepping through the front door." It turned out that the entire wall of exquisite fragrances was nothing more than a disguise for his shame. That afternoon, I dropped the lunch box, dried my tears, and quietly purchased a single one-way ticket to a city thousands of miles away. … The heavy fire door to the stairwell stood slightly ajar. I crouched in the cold shadow behind it, clamping both hands firmly over my mouth. Because of years spent on high-dose hormone therapy, the backs of my hands were swollen, lined with deep purple stretch marks. On the other side of the door stood the man I had loved for eight years, Harry, chief surgical resident at City First Hospital, alongside the new intern, Serena. They stood dangerously close. Harry's familiar, soothing voice carried through the gap. "How can I help it when you are so captivating?" Serena let out a coquettish giggle. "Stop it. If you keep acting like this, how are you going to face Virginia when you go home? She still cooks and delivers lunch for you every single day." My knuckles turned stark white as I gripped the thermal soup container. "Why bring her up and ruin the mood?" Harry let out a soft sigh. "I just buy a bottle of perfume to keep her happy before I head home. That way, she stays devoted enough to take care of my paralyzed mother for free. It saves me hundreds a day in professional nursing costs. It is an incredible deal." A sudden wave of nausea hit my stomach, forcing me to double over. I waited until the sound of their retreating footsteps faded down the hallway before I dared to breathe normally again. Tears splashed against the purple marks on my swollen skin. I could not speak a single word. Once, I was a skilled surgeon holding a scalpel alongside him. Severe endocrine failure brought on by aggressive fertility treatments caused my weight to skyrocket by eighty pounds. Back then, Harry had taken my hands softly, promising, "Virginia, this counts as an occupational injury. I will take care of you forever. You just stay home, rest, and look after my mother." Every time he completed a complex procedure, he brought me an expensive bottle of perfume. He used to say, "Virginia, just because you are sick does not mean you should stop being elegant. These scents suit you best." Deeply moved, I cherished those bottles like sacred treasures, arranging them meticulously across an entire display wall. They became the sole beacon of hope in my quiet, lonely life as a full-time homemaker. In reality, every single bottle was merely a marker of his infidelity, a pathetic veil over his betrayal. Numbly, I knelt down, picking up the shattered pieces of the thermal container from the floor, using my sleeve to wipe away the spilled chicken soup. Then, dragging my heavy, aching body, I shuffled down the stairs step by step. At eight that evening, Harry unlocked the front door. A faint scent of hospital disinfectant clung to him, mixed with a barely noticeable trace of sweet, fruity perfume. Smiling, he walked up to me and, as he always did, pulled an elegant gift box from behind his back. "Virginia, you worked hard today. This is the new limited-edition tuberose. Want to try it?" His eyes beamed with apparent affection. He reached out, gently pinching the soft flesh of my arm. "You seem to have gained a little weight recently. That is fine, extra weight brings good fortune, and it feels nice to touch." Looking at his handsome face, a surge of revulsion twisted my gut. I avoided his gaze, looking past him toward the perfume display wall in the living room, feeling my throat constrict tightly. "I need to turn my mother-in-law over first," I murmured, keeping my head low as I bypassed the perfume box and walked straight into his mother's bedroom. After changing the soiled sheets for my paralyzed, incontinent mother-in-law and washing her clean, I returned to my small study. No screaming. No confrontation. I opened my laptop and clicked on an email that had been sitting untouched in my inbox for a month. It was an acceptance letter from a top international medical research institute for a specialized critical care rehabilitation program. Taking a deep breath, I clicked the button to confirm my enrollment. Late at night, Harry was fast asleep. I sat in front of the computer screen, entering a complex password to open an encrypted file folder. Inside lay the extensive pathology data and manuscript drafts for a major cardiovascular research paper that I had been secretly organizing and writing for Harry over the past six months. My body might have been broken, and my hands might no longer hold a scalpel, but my mind was completely intact. Whenever Harry encountered an academic bottleneck, he would wrap his arms around me, softly begging me, his former top-ranking classmate, to lend him a hand. Believing we were a team, I endured endless sleepless nights, polishing this groundbreaking manuscript until it was flawless, enough to secure him an associate professorship. The next morning, when I emerged from the kitchen carrying breakfast, Harry was sitting at the dining table in high spirits, flicking through the latest issue of the National Medical Journal. "Virginia, the new issue arrived. Take a look." He smiled, sliding the magazine across the table toward me and thoughtfully pulling out a chair. Wiping the moisture from my hands, I opened the table of contents with quiet anticipation. However, the moment my eyes landed on the primary author credit, the blood in my veins ran ice cold. The name printed there was not Harry, nor was it mine. It read three agonizing words: Serena Lin. Harry walked up behind me, gently wrapping his arms around my waist, his voice dripping with smooth affection. "You saw it?" My voice sounded dry and hollow. "Why is she listed as the primary author? This paper belonged to..." "Virginia," he interrupted smoothly. "Serena is a very hardworking intern. She is preparing for her board certification and desperately needs a high-impact publication under her name. I am already an attending surgeon. Giving her this credit is just my way of mentoring a junior colleague." He dropped a light kiss onto my cheek. "Besides, you have been out of the field for so long. What use do you have for a meaningless title anyway? Why draw such sharp lines between husband and wife?" He used my blood, sweat, and tears to pave a golden path for his mistress, dressing it up as professional generosity. I lowered my eyes, gazing at the printed name, feeling as though a dull blade were slowly carving through my chest. Then, he pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it. Inside lay a thick, heavy, incredibly tacky solid gold bangle. Grabbing my hand, he forcibly crammed the bangle over my hand. The cold metal dug brutally into the soft flesh of my swollen wrist, leaving a deep red mark. "I saw this at the jeweler and knew it was perfect. The heavy gold weight matches your prosperous figure." He studied it with a warm smile. "Do not let a silly academic title make you jealous. You are the real Mrs. Harry. Everything I earn belongs to you anyway." What was this supposed to be? A gold chain to keep a loyal dog tethered? Staring at the ridiculous gold band on my wrist, I calmly used my other hand to slide it off, placing it directly over the open magazine. "It is too heavy. It gets in the way of housework," I said softly. The smile on Harry's face stiffened. His brows knit together slightly. "You simply do not know how to enjoy the finer things. Whatever. Drink the herbal medicine I bought yesterday, fix your body, and let us focus on having a baby soon." He picked up the bowl of dark, foul-smelling liquid and pushed it toward my lips. The scent was pungent and stomach-churning. I had swallowed this bitter brew for three agonizing years, destroying my metabolism and stripping away every shred of my dignity. I lifted my head, looking straight into his deceptive eyes. Then, right in front of him, I took the bowl and poured every drop of the black liquid straight down the kitchen sink. The dark whirlpool swallowed the herbal dregs, swirling out of sight down the drain. Harry froze, completely stunned. Before he could unleash his anger, my phone vibrated in my apron pocket. It was an email from the overseas institute: "Dr. Virginia, congratulations on passing the secondary review. Please confirm your start date as soon as possible." Turning around, I set the empty bowl on the counter, my voice devoid of any emotion. "I am done drinking it. It is too bitter." I walked back into my study, locked the door, and booked a one-way flight to the other side of the ocean, set for two weeks later. Those two weeks passed in a blur of numbness. The hospital's annual gala was held at a five-star hotel downtown. As Harry's wife, my attendance was mandatory. I searched through my closet, failing to find a single formal dress that could fit my swollen frame. In the end, I settled for a loose, plain black dress, attempting to use the dark fabric to hide the heavy layers of weight. As I stepped toward the banquet hall entrance, the head nurse greeting guests failed to recognize me. She offered a warm, polite smile. "Dr. Harry, did you bring your mother's caretaker along for dinner? The staff table is right over there by the side." A quiet hush fell over the surrounding crowd. Several passing doctors struggled to hide their snickers. Without missing a beat, Harry casually rested his hand near my shoulder. "Sister Zhang, you are mistaken. This is my wife, Virginia." "Oh, goodness! My apologies! Mrs. Harry keeps such a low profile, my eyesight must be failing me," the nurse offered a nervous, embarrassed chuckle. Harry smiled gently, saying it was no trouble at all. Yet, the hand resting on my shoulder pulled back almost instantly. This move, framed as a polite rescue while subtly solidifying my image as an unpresentable housewife, was far more humiliating than an outright insult. Shortly after we sat at the head table, the heavy entrance doors swung open again. Serena glided into the hall wearing a shimmering mermaid gown that hugged her curves, stepping gracefully in sky-high heels. Every gaze in the room was instantly captured by her slender silhouette. She sauntered over to our table, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Dr. Harry." Harry stood up naturally, pulling out the chair right beside mine for her, displaying a clear favor meant only for her. I sat squeezed in the middle, looking like a drab, grey wall. When the dinner began, servers brought out the signature steamed crab. Just as I picked up my fork, I watched Harry expertly pick out the sweetest crab meat and roe, arranging it neatly on a small plate before sliding it past me, placing it directly in front of Serena. "Serena spent the last few days pulling back-to-back shifts in the operating room. Her stomach has been sensitive. Eat some high-protein food to recover," he said with a bright, charming smile. Serena blushed, pretending to decline. "How could I? Dr. Harry, you should eat it yourself." "You are far too thin. Be good and eat," he urged, his affectionate tone stinging my eyes like acid. Right at that moment, the hospital director stepped onto the stage, speaking into the microphone. "Tonight, we have a special recognition for Dr. Serena Lin from the cardiology department! Her published paper as primary author has generated incredible praise across the medical community! Let us congratulate this rising star!" A spotlight immediately illuminated our table. Serena covered her mouth in dramatic excitement, standing up to bow to the room before turning to offer a deep, graceful bow directly toward Harry. "Thank you for your guidance, Dr. Harry. This paper would never exist without you." Cheering applause erupted across the room. The two of them exchanged glances under the bright lights, looking like the ultimate power couple of the medical world. Meanwhile, I, the actual author of that research, remained buried in the shadows, nothing more than a pathetic, invisible background piece. When Harry sat back down, he pulled his admiring gaze away from her. Perhaps realizing the atmosphere was too obvious, he finally remembered my presence beside him. Using the serving chopsticks, he rummaged through a platter of braised pork, picked out a massive, glistening piece of pure fat, and dropped it into my bowl. "Virginia, you love this. Eat more," he said smoothly. The surrounding female doctors exchanged glances filled with pity and undisguised disgust. That heavy piece of fat was the ultimate mockery of my body, a pathetic crumb of affection tossed to me after his grand celebration. Staring down at the greasy lump sitting in my bowl, acid surged violently up my throat. I set my fork down. "It is a bit stuffy in here. I am going to the restroom." Ignoring Harry's surprised look, I pushed my chair back and walked briskly out of the banquet hall. Inside a locked restroom stall, I pulled out my phone and messaged my attorney. "Attorney Ross, you can send over the asset notarization and the draft of the divorce agreement now." Three days after the banquet, while I was cleaning my mother-in-law, her face suddenly turned blue. She gasped frantically for air, her hands clutching the bedsheets in a violent panic. Acute heart failure! I dialed an ambulance like a woman possessed. Without even changing out of my soiled apron, I boarded the emergency vehicle and rushed straight to the hospital. Registration, payments, pushing her heavy wheelchair through various diagnostic labs. The workload meant for two family members fell entirely on my shoulders alone. When I reached the final blood draw station, days of intense exhaustion combined with low blood sugar triggered by my hormonal imbalance caused my vision to fade to black. My heart hammered violently against my ribs, and my limbs went completely numb. I reached out to grab a nearby support pillar, but my body gave out, crashing heavily onto the hard tile floor as violent spasms gripped my muscles. Through a ringing in my ears, I forced my eyes open, looking past the crowded hallway toward the nursing station in the distance. Harry was standing there in his spotless white lab coat. He was not looking in my direction. Instead, he was holding Serena's hand with gentle, agonizing care. Serena had lightly scraped her finger on a metal chart holder. Harry's brows were tightly knit as he carefully applied a small bandage to her paper-thin scratch. "Someone collapsed! Help! Call a doctor!" a patient's relative nearby shouted in alarm. Hearing the commotion, Harry turned around from the nursing station, his expression shifting to utter shock. He saw me lying helpless on the floor. In that fraction of a second, the tenderness on his face vanished, replaced by sheer embarrassment and a disgust he could barely hide. He walked over quickly, yet he did not perform any basic medical checks on my vital signs. The very first thing he did was rapidly strip off his black suit jacket, tossing it heavily over my sweat-drenched, swollen face. The scent of cheap perfume clinging to his jacket mixed with his sweat, completely cutting off my remaining air. In that exact moment, my heart stopped fighting. My final tolerance snapped completely. After being revived by the emergency nurses, I did not attempt to contact Harry. I quietly pushed his mother, now out of danger, back home. The next morning, under the excuse of attending a high-profile medical conference out of state, Harry boarded a flight with Serena, full of energy and pride. Meanwhile, in the quiet house, I performed one final, thorough cleaning. I signed the divorce papers sent by Attorney Ross, placing them neatly underneath the most expensive, limited-edition perfume bottle on the display wall. Then, I wrote down every single detail regarding my mother-in-law's medication schedule, turning frequency, and dietary restrictions on sticky notes, plastering them neatly across the wall above her headboard. With everything complete, I gripped the handle of my pre-packed suitcase and closed the front door behind me without a single backward glance. At the airport terminal, the final boarding call for my international flight echoed over the speakers. Suddenly, my phone vibrated violently in my palm. It was Harry. At a moment when he was riding high on a romantic getaway with his mistress, he actually found the time to call me. I pressed answer. Harry's voice sounded impossibly sweet over the receiver. "Virginia, I am coming back the day after tomorrow. These meetings have been exhausting. Could you simmer that wild ginseng soup I love so we can have it ready when I land?" His tone held a practiced tenderness. "I bought you a silk scarf while I was out, a large size. It will look lovely on you." Listening to his familiar script, I let out a soft laugh. No screaming. No explosive accusations. I watched the planes taking off past the glass windows, listening to the final call at my gate, and spoke with absolute calm. "Do not bother coming back, and do not bother bringing anything." "Harry, I am gone." Before he could offer any response, I ended the call. I popped out the SIM card that had bound me to him for eight long years, snapped it clean in half, and tossed it into the nearest trash bin. Then, gripping my suitcase, I walked straight into the boarding jetway without looking back once.