SADE

When they announced the final exam, my hands went cold, not the kind of cold you shake off. The kind that settles deep and stays.

Madame Valée stood at the front of the lab, straight-backed as always, eyes moving over us like she could already see who would fail and who would succeed. The room smelled like nerves and alcohol wipes; nobody was speaking. It felt like we were holding our breath.

“This is your last exam,” she said. “There will be no retakes. No mercy grading.” Someone behind me let out a slow breath. “You will create a scent that explains your life. Not a moment. Not a...