Page 12 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

"And you? Any new contracts coming up?"

"The usual clients. They want me to keep an eye on their infrastructure."

"Understandable. With all the cyberattacks lately, you can never be too careful."

I watch him over the rim of my glass. "I hope Gloventis is well protected."

His smile falters for the briefest moment.

"We try."

Laurent arrives with dessert, carrying his dish like a trophy. The intoxicating aroma of warm chocolate fills the room, momentarily overshadowing the tension at the table.

"A chocolate soufflé," the chef announces proudly. "My grandmother’s recipe."

The dessert is perfect, risen just right, its cracked surface promising a molten center. Normally, I would savor every bite, but tonight, each spoonful feels like lead in my stomach. Ruslan’s gaze, heavy with unspoken words, never wavers.

The meal ends with an increasingly unbearable atmosphere.

Once Asli and Laurent leave, I finally breathe. No more pretending.

Without hesitation, without even glancing at Ruslan, I head straight for our bedroom. Under his burning stare, which I can feel on my back, I methodically start moving my things into the guest room. His body tenses as he realizes what I’m doing.

"Sophia…"

"There’s no way we’re sleeping in the same room."

My tone is so final that he doesn’t argue. What did he expect? That I’d turn a blind eye to his betrayal? That I’d share his bed while he came home with another woman’s scent on his skin?

I feel his gaze follow me as I empty the drawers one by one. His eyes burn with a storm of emotions—helplessness, regret, sorrow.

I refuse to let it affect me. This is his fault. He should have thought about that before meeting his mistress on our wedding day.

Once I’m settled in my new room, I return to the doorway and look him straight in the eye.

"Good night."

And I shut the door in his face.

9. Invitation to dinner

RUSLAN

It pisses me the fuck off that Sophia is moving her stuff into the guest room. I was looking forward to sharing my nights with her, already picturing everything we could do—passionate embraces, late-night talks, bursts of laughter. Funny how I can miss something so much when I never really wanted it in the first place.

My relationship with her happened so easily, maybe too easily, probably because we were so close when we were younger. There’s a trust and familiarity between us that’s comforting. And of course, the sex was incredible. That’s probably what I miss the most. I’m dying not being able to touch her.

But who am I kidding? That wasn’t all there was to our relationship. With Sophia, I could be myself. I didn’t have to put on a front, pretend to be more in control than I actually was. I could talk about my doubts, my uncertainties, the decisions I make without ever really knowing if they’re the right ones. Sophia knew how to listen, and she had her own way of reassuring and encouraging me.

The fact that she shut the door in my face feels final. I feel this emptiness inside me, like I’ve lost something precious I didn’t even realize I had.

I hesitate, debating whether to knock on her door, just to have her look at me again with those furious eyes. But I hold myself back. What’s the point? This is only temporary.

I’m about to slide into bed when my phone vibrates. A new notification.

I grab the device and unlock it.

Unknown number: Hello darling, do you miss me?