I don’t remember her face anymore. Not exactly. It’s been years since that night at Jao Tim KL—since she leaned against the bar beside me, her laughter slipping between the notes of a slow, smoky melody. The dim light caught in her hair, But her face? It’s a blur now. What I do remember is the scent. Honey with shea butter , laced with something floral—violet, maybe. A trace of vanilla and musk, warm and lingering, the kind of scent that stays long after someone is gone. We talked for hours, lost in the rhythm of the night, but when I left, I never saw her again. No name. No goodbye. Just the echo of her perfume in the air. Even now, sometimes, I catch it—on a passing stranger, in the hush of an old record playing somewhere—and for a second, she’s there. Not her face, not her voice. Just the feeling. Just the scent.

Top Notes

• Pears, Solar Notes

Middle Notes

• Gardenia, Violet, Lilies

Bottom Notes

• Honey,Shea Butter, Vanilla, Musk