Page 13 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

Soon a photo appears of a completely naked body I know all too well.

Natasha.

Damn, this woman is oblivious. Even with a prepaid phone, she's taking a lot of risks.

I answer immediately.

Ruslan: You're giving me a hard-on. I hope you're already getting wet for me.

Unknown number: Can I call you? I want to hear your voice.

Ruslan: No, Sophia's not asleep yet.

Unknown number: Too bad... You don't know what you're losing... Can you feel how wet I am for you? I imagine you penetrating me, your sex plunging deep inside me, taking me harder and harder...

Ruslan: Yes, that's it, baby, think of me. Think about how I'm fucking you. Over and over again.

She doesn't write anything for a long time, and I can easily imagine what she's doing. All these texts are just to keep a hold on her, without having to touch her, the goal being to make her believe in a relationship that doesn't exist. At first, I enjoyed fucking her: she's a beautiful woman with a gorgeous body. Then I started seeing Sophia to cover up my lie. After that, it became more complicated; I was torn between desire and guilt.

When Sophia and I slept together for the first time, it was incredible. Afterwards, I used the wedding preparations as an excuse to avoid one-on-one time with Natasha. The only time I didn’t have an excuse, Nicolas called me for an emergency, and I was saved by the bell.

Still, I can't just dump her; she can still be useful to me. Besides, who knows how far Natasha would go to get Sophia out of the way. I'm not her only lover, but Natasha is capricious, and I'm her current obsession.

Fortunately, the fear of her husband finding out about our relationship forces her to keep some distance; otherwise, I believe she wouldn't hesitate to show up at our door to get what she wants from me.

Unknown number: Hmm... It was so good, but not as good as if you'd been there...

Shit, she's still here!

Ruslan: It was good for me too. Good night.

And I turn off my phone.

I need a good shower.

The water flows over my body like a caress. I soap myself up and let my hands roam freely over my taut muscles, where I'd like other hands to do the same. My fingers slowly caress my abs, then move lower to my sex. My fist closes around my shaft and I masturbate gently, my head filled with images of her naked beneath me. I rest one hand on the wall to steady myself and accelerate my thrusts. The pleasure mounts, I feel my release approaching. I increase the pressure until my body spasms and I spurt long streams of semen. Despite my desire to remain silent, her name escapes me.

"Sophia..."

***

The next morning, when I wake up, my first instinct is to reach for Sophia beside me. Then I remember—she's sleeping in the guest room. I get dressed, get up, and step out of the bedroom.

Muffled laughter drifts from the kitchen—Sophia, Asli, and Laurent, sharing confidences over steaming coffee. I stop in the hallway, listening to their easy camaraderie. The moment I step into the room, my mere presence at the doorway is enough to burst their little bubble, scattering them like startled birds.

I feel like a stranger in my own home. It's as if an invisible wall has risen between us, separating me while they form their own little circle.

How could I blame them? Sophia has this effortless way of connecting with people, of genuinely caring about their lives. She follows Asli’s grandchildren’s adventures like an enthralling series, checks in regularly on Laurent’s son studying abroad. Me? I’ve only ever been the perfectionist boss, the one who demands excellence with no compromises.

Once breakfast is served, Asli leaves us alone and heads to the kitchen with Laurent to work on inventory.

"Are you going to the office today?" I ask Sophia.

"Yes. You?"

"I'll be working from home for the next few days."

"Fine."