The Sweet Scent of Betrayal

Summary

I have prosopagnosia. Severe face blindness. It’s a condition so profound that for three years of high school, I couldn't pick the girl who sat next to me out of a police lineup. To me, human faces are like watercolors left out in the rain—smudged, featureless, and instantly forgettable.

To make sure I’d never lose him in a crowd, my boyfriend, Rowan Davis, wore the exact same cologne every single day. A heavy, intoxicating blend of cedarwood and bergamot.

"It’s okay," he used to whisper, pressing my face into his chest.