The Tokyo sun rose soft and pale through the curtains, stretching golden arms across Violet’s sheets. Her alarm didn’t need to ring; her body already knew it was morning. Between meetings, seminars, and early clinic hours, she’d forgotten what sleeping in felt like.

But that morning, her heart felt strangely full lighter than usual. Maybe it was because the scent of cedar and mint still clung to her pillow, faint but undeniable.

Bryan’s scent.

He’d only been gone a week, but the memory of his warmth lingered in everything the coffee mug he’d used, the shirt he’d borrowed, even the silly note he’d left on her fridge:

“Feed yourself something...