The Sweet Scent of Betrayal
Language: en
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. "Even if you can't remember my face, Harper, you'll always know my…