Chapter 4: Rose Meets Cedar

Chapter Four

She wore it on a Tuesday.

Until then, Portrait of a Lady had belonged to her evenings. Long walks through Hackney. Saturday mornings at the market. Quiet nights with a book and a cup of tea. It was hers before it belonged to the world. That morning, she reached for the bottle without thinking. One spray on each wrist, one at the base of her neck. The rich rose unfolded almost immediately, followed by the warmth beneath it. Every time she wore it, it settled on her skin a little differently. Today, it felt calmer. Stronger. She smiled at her reflection.

"Good morning," she murmured.

Then she picked up her bag and left. The Central Line was crowded as usual.She stood near the door with a novel open in one hand, gently breathing in the familiar scent rising from her wrist. It grounded her. Somehow, it always did.

Then another fragrance slipped into the air. She noticed it before she noticed him. Her eyes remained on the page, but her mind was no longer reading.

Black tea, Fig, Cedar, a trace of bergamot, dark... but clean. Comforting in a way she couldn't explain. She slowly looked up. He was standing at the other end of the carriage, tall, dark jacket. An open book rested in one hand while the other held the rail above him. He turned a page, never read it. His thoughts were somewhere else. She looked for a second too long.

As though he felt it, he lifted his head.

Their eyes met. Neither of them smiled, Not yet, but something passed between them. Recognition...Curiosity. Then the train slowed. Zara looked away first.

"Oh, that's embarrassing," she whispered.

When the train stopped, they both stepped onto the platform. She told herself not to watch where he was going....She failed almost immediately. He walked ahead of her, calm and unhurried, then he turned onto the street leading to the Chapter House. Her steps slowed....Surely...He walked straight to the front door, pressed the private bell sequence, the door opened, he disappeared inside, zara stood there for another second. Then she laughed quietly at herself.

"You don't even know his name."

✦ ✦ ✦

Dr. Yewande Obi was already working when Zara arrived..She glanced up once.

"You're three minutes late."

"My apologies."

"You don't owe me an apology. You owe me three minutes."

Zara smiled.

"I'll earn them back."

"I expect you to."

There was a brief silence.

"Dr. Obi..."

"Yes?"

"A man came in just before me."

"What about him?"

"He..."

Zara stopped herself.

"...nothing."

Dr. Obi looked at her for a moment.

"If the question isn't important enough to ask, it probably isn't important enough to think about."

Zara nodded.

Then Dr. Obi slid a key across the desk...."The pre-1970 archives."

Zara picked it up....As she turned to leave, Dr. Obi spoke again.

"You weren't sent here as a favour."

Zara looked back.

"I chose you."

Another pause.

"I don't waste my time on people I don't believe in."

Nothing more.

She returned to her paperwork.

The conversation was over.

For some reason, those words stayed with Zara all morning.

✦ ✦ ✦

The archives smelled of paper, dust and old wood. Sunlight slipped through the tall windows, catching tiny specks floating lazily in the air.Zara opened a file, read a page, closed it again.She wasn't thinking about old records, she was thinking about a fragrance. She closed her eyes..Black tea...Fig...Cedar. Then she smiled. "I know you." She reached into her bag and pulled out the small notebook she'd kept since she was fifteen. A few pages later, she found it.

Le Labo. Thé Noir 29.

"There you are."

She ran her finger over the name.

"So that's your scent."

She didn't know why saying it made her smile..She didn't know why she cared..She only knew she hadn't stopped thinking about it.

✦ ✦ ✦

Four days passed before she saw him again, she turned a corner on the second floor, he was walking towards her..closer this time. The scent reached her first.

Thé Noir 29.

He looked up, for the smallest moment, surprise crossed his face, then came the faintest smile, not flirtation, recognition. As if he, too, remembered the train. Zara felt her heartbeat stumble.

She stepped aside.

"Sorry."

"No need."

His voice was low and calm..He moved aside as well, giving her space to pass, for a brief second, Portrait of a Lady met Thé Noir 29 between them.

Rose...Black tea....Incense....Cedar.

Then they were walking in opposite directions, she didn't look back..she told herself not to. She almost succeeded.

✦ ✦ ✦

The next morning, Zara reached for her perfume.

She paused, smiled to herself.

"I'm wearing this because I love it."

She sprayed once, then, after a tiny hesitation...Once more. She picked up her bag and left. By the time she reached the end of her street, she never noticed the man standing outside a small café across the road.

He watched her disappear into the morning crowd. Then, almost absent-mindedly, he glanced at the book in his hand. He hadn't read a single page. A faint smile touched his lips. "Portrait of a Lady..." he said quietly.

Then he closed the book and walked away.