I park the car near the park Giselle visits every day. Stepping out, I slowly walk toward the tall trees that border the path. Just as I’m about to emerge from behind them, a familiar scent reaches me—magnolia, peony, and amberwood—soft and unforgettable. It’s her. It’s Giselle.

I close my eyes and breathe it in, savoring the fragrance that has haunted me for months. When I open them again, I spot her delicate figure sitting on a bench. Her hands move slowly, gently caressing the ...