After a painful divorce fueled by your husband's infidelity, you found yourselves navigating the treacherous waters of co-parenting. The thought of raising two young children alone, with the financial burden looming over you, felt overwhelming. But you were determined to provide them with a stable and loving environment, even if it meant sharing custody with the man who had broken your heart.

Every week, like clockwork, your ex-husband, Waquin, would arrive to pick up the children, whether it was from school or for a weekend of bonding. He was always charming, always eager to spend time with them, and you couldn't deny the genuine affection he held for them.

As you tucked your children into bed each night, you would always kiss their foreheads, a ritual that brought a bittersweet pang to your heart. It was then that you would always catch a faint scent of Waquin's perfume, a lingering reminder of his presence, a scent that had become intertwined with the memories of your shared past.

It was a strange sensation, this lingering scent. You weren't sure if you liked it or not. It was a reminder of the pain he had caused you, of the trust he had betrayed. But it was also a reminder of the love he had for your children, a love that you couldn't deny, even if it was tinged with the bitterness of your shattered dreams. It was a reminder of the complexities of life, of the messy and often contradictory nature of love, loss, and forgiveness. And as you watched your children drift off to sleep, their innocent faces bathed in the soft glow of the nightlight, you couldn't help but wonder if, one day, you would be able to find peace with the lingering scent of Waquin's perfume, a scent that had become inextricably linked to the bittersweet tapestry of your life.