Chapter 5. The feelings

Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind. Antoine jumped up and walked towards the towering bookshelf in the corner of the room. It was a treasure trove of invaluable formulas from Laurent Dubois, where the master perfumer had stored his secret recipes and rare essential oils, and Antoine had been fortunate enough to have access to them.

"I think I’ve found what you need," he called out with a hint of excitement.

Camille looked up at him, still puzzled. Antoine often surprised her, but this time, she was genuinely curious. Could this "tech wizard" really grasp the delicate void in the fragrance she was striving to perfect?

Antoine swiftly scanned the rows of old shelves, gently taking hold of a box, and brought it over to Camille. "Laurent truly was a genius," he murmured, his eyes filled with admiration. "He always knew how to amaze."

Antoine opened the box, revealing a small glass vial. The liquid inside shimmered with a pale golden hue. A subtle scent wafted out—soft, yet deeply alluring, evoking a memory both familiar and distant.

Camille inhaled deeply, her body stirring awake. "This is..." she exclaimed, her voice laced with excitement and surprise, "Miel de Tilleul? Linden blossom honey?"

"Exactly," Antoine nodded, a glimmer of pride and amusement lighting up his eyes at Camille's reaction. "Linden blossom honey essence, handcrafted by Laurent from the blossoms along the Seine in the summer of 1998."

In that radiant summer, the linden trees bloomed in a snowy white along the Seine. The sweet fragrance filled the air, attracting bees to make their honey. Laurent had spent the entire summer harvesting this special nectar, extracting only a small amount of essence. He had said that the scent reminded him of a peaceful, tranquil time in Paris.

"It’s... truly unique," Camille's voice softened, as if afraid to break the fragility of the moment. The linden blossom honey scent seeped into her senses like a warm current, evoking pure and serene memories.

Paris in summer, when the linden trees on the streets bloomed in white and filled the air with their intoxicating fragrance. Eight-year-old Camille, holding her grandfather’s hand, strolled along the Seine, listening to him tell stories about this magnificent city—the city where she was born and raised, the city of perfumes.

"Why did he keep it hidden for so long?" Camille asked Antoine, still astounded by how clearly she remembered this distinctive scent despite all the other essences and fragrances that had passed through her life.

"Perhaps Laurent was waiting for the right moment," Antoine replied, his gaze resting on Camille with a touch of warmth. "Or... maybe he knew that one day, someone would come along who could truly make it shine."

Camille felt her heart skip a beat. The words, combined with Antoine's warm, slightly enigmatic look, stirred an unfamiliar feeling within her—a new sensation, part sweet, part confusing, just like the honeyed linden blossom scent now filling the air...

Camille shook her head gently, pulling herself back to the present. "Let’s try it," she said, her gaze returning to its usual professional focus.

Just a small amount of the linden blossom honey essence, yet Camille knew it was the missing piece she had been seeking. Its warm, sweet, yet refined aroma acted like a delicate finishing note, balancing the rich fragrances of rose, patchouli, and bergamot, while creating a lingering aftertaste, evocative and memorable.

As Camille had hoped, when the "Miel de Tilleul" blended into the symphony of scents, it became the perfect final note, both revealing and reminiscent. The fragrance of Champs-Élysées at sunset no longer embodied only the outer splendor and grandeur but also carried a flowing stream of romantic, subtle memories within. Paris, in each person’s memory, was different, but they would find themselves in the sweet nostalgia that this scent evoked.

"Perfect!" Antoine exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with unconcealed admiration for Camille. "It’s truly incredible! Camille, you’re a magician!"

Camille smiled softly. The feeling of success after creating a new scent always brought her a unique joy. Yet, she knew that this time, the success wasn’t hers alone.

"No, Antoine," she shook her head, her eyes meeting his with a sincere, grateful sparkle, "This success is ours. Your 'Muse,' Laurent, and... you too..."

Camille paused for a moment. In that fleeting instant, amidst the room filled with fragrance, she saw Antoine more clearly, more intimately. He wasn’t the cold tech guy she had thought, but a warm companion who always knew how to support and inspire her.

The room was bathed in the soft light of the setting sun, the last rays of daylight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow on Antoine’s face. Camille looked at him, and for the first time, she noticed his striking appearance—a bit of chestnut hair, slightly tousled yet exuding intelligence, and his eyes, behind round glasses, no longer held a challenging gleam but instead, a gentle gaze filled with affection.

Suddenly, Camille felt her face heat up. She quickly turned away, trying to steady the frantic beating of her heart. Strange thoughts rushed in, swift and intense, much like the way she created new fragrance notes for her perfumes.

“I think we should stop here for today,” Camille spoke, attempting to keep her voice as calm as possible. “It’s getting late. I’ll continue experimenting with other formulas tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes… of course,” Antoine stammered, seemingly just snapping out of a rare moment of distraction. “I need to check some data on ‘Muse’ anyway. See you tomorrow.”

He hastily gathered his belongings and disappeared through the door. The office returned to silence, with only the lingering scent of Damask roses and linden nectar hanging in the air like a whispered reminder of memories just awakened.

Camille stood motionless for a while, as if still enveloped in the swirl of scents and emotions she had just created. “Antoine Moreau…” she whispered his name to herself, the sound of it gently echoing in her mind, yet causing her heart to skip a beat.

In the days that followed, the atmosphere between Camille and Antoine seemed to shift slightly. Their collaboration was still seamless, their debates over fragrances still passionate, but something else had crept in—something indefinable. A fleeting glance, a quick smile, an accidental brush of the hand that left both startled…

As night fell over Paris, golden lights reflected off the shimmering Seine, mirroring the mysterious night sky. Camille stood on her apartment balcony, inhaling the cool night breeze deeply.