Page 27 of Mr. and Mrs. Novak

14. Metamorphosis

SOPHIA

Raphaël and I have always been close. Even after his long military deployments, our bond remains intact, as if time has no hold on our relationship. Since my wedding, he’s been on leave at our parents’ house in Brest. When his name flashes on my phone, I pick up instantly, a smile on my lips.

"Hello, Sis!" he greets me warmly.

I curl up comfortably on my bed, leaning against the headboard, my legs stretched out over silk sheets. "Well, well, the great Raphaël finally calls me," I tease. "How’s life as a civilian?"

His laugh travels through the line, familiar and comforting. "It’s disorienting," he admits. "I still wake up at five in the morning, convinced I’m in the middle of the desert, but I’m adjusting. Mom keeps trying to fatten me up at every meal, convinced I lost weight on my mission."

"Still the same," I chuckle. "At least you get to enjoy the comforts of home."

"Exactly… I saw Tania and Emmeline last weekend. We went out to sea with the kids and had an incredible catch—ten kilos of mackerel. Spent the rest of the day making rillettes with Dad. The teenagers pretended to complain, but they were the first to dive in at aperitif time."

His voice comes alive with the memory. I close my eyes, picturing them all gathered around the table. I miss that life, the simplicity of it, where the only thing that matters is being together, no matter what we’re doing. Now, I live in a penthouse worth millions, wear designer dresses, eat meals prepared by a chef, and yet, I’ve never felt so alone.

We talk for a while about everyone back home. Anecdotes flow naturally until a silence settles between us. I sense it coming, the moment when the conversation shifts.

"And you? How’s married life?" he asks at last.

His tone has changed. It’s more measured, almost cautious. I remember his face when I announced my wedding—his furrowed brow, the sudden tension in his body before he forced himself to wish me happiness. I never found out what happened between Raphaël and Ruslan. They were inseparable in high school, then overnight—nothing. Now, they avoid each other with a cold politeness that twists my stomach.

"Pretty good," I answer vaguely, twisting my wedding ring around my finger. "The honeymoon’s postponed, but it’s just a matter of time..."

Silence stretches before he finally breaks it gently. "You know I’m here if you need to talk."

His words hang between us, but I know my brother too well. That worry in his voice… My heart pounds. Could he know about Ruslan? About Natasha? No, impossible. If Raphaël had known, he never would have let me marry Ruslan.

"I know," I murmur before adding, with forced lightness, "I love you too, you know."

"Hey, don’t make me say things I didn’t say!" he protests theatrically.

My laughter fills the room, almost genuine. Almost. A heavy silence follows as I nervously fiddle with the blanket on my bed, desperately trying to keep the conversation away from dangerous territory.

"You should come visit us in Paris," I suggest softly. "I miss you."

"Maybe," he replies after the slightest hesitation. "I’ll check my schedule…"

"You’re never going to tell me what happened between you two, are you?"

He hesitates for a moment before responding. "No. It’s in the past."

"A past that keeps you from visiting me because he’s here… If you had told me before, maybe I would have avoided the biggest mistake of my life…" I confess, my throat tight with unshed tears.

"Sophia…"

"Did you know about the other woman?"

"No, of course not," he says, genuinely appalled. "I found out on the wedding day… I’m so sorry."

"It’s not your fault."

The silence that follows is endless until he finally breaks it.

"For what it’s worth, I do believe he cares about you."

The quiet concern in his voice threatens to shatter my last defenses. A lone tear trails down my cheek.