I genuinely thought avoidance would solve the problem. But it didn’t. It only sharpened it. In my leisure time, I’d entertain myself with the live footage of her activities back at home. I knew I shouldn’t be spying on her, but I couldn’t help it.
Watching her move through the house had a weird way of easing my stress. I noticed she’d buried herself in the case files I’d previously sent to her.
Was that a coping mechanism?
Was she so focused on the cases just to escape her darkest desires?
I hoped I wasn’t the only one affected so much by the sex because that would be fucked up.
The knock on the door forced me out of my thoughts. When I glanced toward the entrance, a familiar figure was already walking into my office.
My lips curled into a small grin, and I rose to my feet. “Uncle Pavel, what a pleasant surprise.” I went around the table to meet him. “I thought you were still in Ukraine.”
“I’m back for a few days,” he answered. “Had to drop by and see my nephew—the latest groom in town.” He spread out his arms.
I embraced him, both of us tapping each other’s backs. “It’s good to see you, Uncle.”
“Good to see you too.” He pulled back just enough to look at my face, his hand resting on my shoulder. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. “See, settling down wasn’t that hard, now was it?”
A pause.
“That’s debatable.”
He laughed lightly, sinking into the visitor’s chair.
I headed to the minibar in the corner and grabbed a bottle of his favorite wine.
“So tell me, how does it feel to be married?”
I walked back to my desk, the bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. “It’s overrated, if you ask me.”
“It usually is,” he said, “until it isn’t.”
I poured him a glass and handed it to him.
“Thank you,” he said in Russian, accepting it.
I did the same for myself and took a sip, savoring the flavor dancing on my tongue.
“How is she, anyway?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine. “Your wife.”
Images of her face flashed in my head, the sound of her sweet moans echoing in the back of my mind. His question had triggered a memory his presence had managed to bury minutes ago.
“Karik?” he called softly.
I blinked back to reality.
“Did you hear what I asked?”
I cleared my throat. “She’s fine.”
Silence.
Uncle Pavel held my gaze, as if searching for something. “That’s good to know.”
I walked around the table and sat in my chair, sipping from my glass.
My uncle wasn’t here to catch up or discuss business. He was here to talk about my wife, a conversation I knew we were bound to have sooner or later.
