listen. i only published the other oneshots because of the goncharov anniversary. BUT, i have goncharov brainworms. so i am writing another😔😔 someone please put me down. this isn't normal

sofia x katya & goncharov x andrey.

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"I'll be working late tonight," Goncharov had said. "There's a lot work to do."

Well, that was what he claimed. Both Katya and Goncharov knew it wasn't true. Goncharov knew that Katya was aware that it was a lie, but he never told the truth. What was the point of telling the truth if she already knew it?

Katya stood on the balcony, her gloved hands draped over the barrier. She gazed out onto the streets of Naples. The air was still warm, even in the nighttime. Katya pressed a shiny wine glass to her scarlet lips, the lipstick imprinting on the glass. 

Katya knew her husband was a liar. She knew of his secrets, the nightly meetings with the so-called banker. 

Nearly every night, Goncharov came home late at night with his hair out of place, shifty, and smelling of vodka, smoke, and cologne that did not belong to him. The cologne was on his skin so often that Katya could smell it in their bedsheets. It was practically Goncharov's cologne at this point, since he smelled of it so often. 

Their romance soon went cold. A loveless marriage. But the two still cared for each other. 

Katya watched the stars shining above in the sky. Her husband was out again. She could imagine how her husband kissed the banker, just as how he had used to kiss her when their marriage was young and sweet.

After a couple weeks of Goncharov's nightly meetings, Katya finally learned the name of the banker. She had heard Goncharov whisper it in his sleep, in a tone of pure ecstasy. Andrey, it was.

Katya smiled as she set the wine glass onto the side table next to her. A fond memory pressed at her mind. The delicate touch of a womans hands, her tanned skin glowing in the sunlight of Italy. She sipped the wine, then offered the same glass to Katya. She took it with a soft smile.

Goncharov wasn't the only one who had secrets.

When Katya met Sofia, it was the day that she finally met Andrey in-person. She could put a face to the cologne on her husbands clothes.

Sofia had accompanied Andrey, although they weren't in a relationship. She was simply his good friend. They had sat down opposite from Goncharov and Katya. Goncharov and Andrey sat parallel to each other, as did Sofia and Katya. As she gazed at Sofia, her breath was lost and her mind went blank. She could feel the warmth painting her cheeks. Sofia smiled, a comforting gesture that made Katya feel happy for the first time in a while. Ever since her marriage had failed.

Speaking of. She cast a glance over at Andrey, who was introducing Sofia. He laid an arm across Sofia's back, a playful gesture that confirmed the fact that they were only friends. Good news for both Goncharov and Katya, in different ways.

Goncharov was staring at Andrey like he was an angel. He and Andrey took out a cigarette and lit them with a lighter, their faces inches apart. The flame danced in their dark eyes and their lips tugged with faint smiles as they made eye-contact. Katya's eyes would have narrowed at this, but now that she had found Sofia, a part of her did not care anymore. Goncharov could have Andrey, as long as Katya could have Sofia.

Andrey Daddano was a broad man. He had strong shoulders and was quite tall, maybe an inch or two taller than Goncharov. His curly hair was chestnut brown and it was medium length. He sported an eyepatch, and from the space the eyepatch did not cover, one could see the scar that slashed across his face. 

Sofia Ambrosini was a tall woman with long, raven black hair that reached her mid-back. Her lips were as red as Katya's, and she wore a lot of green, black, and red. Her eyes, brown-green, were adorned with eyeshadow that had colours varying on what she wore. She always wore authentic, shiny pearls that glinted in the light.

When Katya met Sofia, she was wearing a red dress, red lipstick, and red earrings. But nonetheless, it wasn't a lot.

Since that night, Katya was enamoured by a new love. The woman of her dreams, the one who could bring her out of the dull life that she lived as Goncharov's wife. When Goncharov left for his late nights with Andrey, Katya left with Sofia and roamed Naples. Going to markets, buying from fruit stands, checking out beauty shops, they lived their lives freely. Katya found laughter again, her eyes finally glinted with joy as she danced around with Sofia. She complained to Sofia about Goncharov and confided in her when she felt down. They drank all the wine they desired and kissed all they wanted. Sofia's arms were a welcoming place. 

When Katya came home late with pearls draped around her neck, Goncharov simply said nothing. He knew he had no right to comment on them when he smelled of Andrey. His shirt was unbuttoned, clearly from a hasty attempt to put it back on. Lipstick smudges still remained on Katya's neck. She did not care to wipe them away.

Katya walked into her dining room, closing the glass doors behind her. She placed her glass into the sink and headed off to her bedroom, where she undressed and slipped into a white robe. Katya flopped onto her bed, bouncing slightly as the springs did. She did not feel tired, but had no desire to stay awake. There was no point waiting up for her husband anymore. They did not love each other enough for that. She drifted off into sleep eventually, and her last thoughts she had before she fell asleep were of Sofia.

She awoke a few hours later, unsure of the time, when Goncharov opened the bedroom door. He stumbled slightly and the smell of alcohol hit Katya like a wave. She gazed blearily at him, blinking to clear her blurry vision. He went into the bathroom and lazily removed his clothes, muttering cusses to himself as he kept dropping his clothes and kept sumbling into walls. Goncharov sighed heavily and sat down in bed next to Katya, where he noticed she was awake, and stared distantly at her. 

"Katya," he said eventually. His voice was hoarse. 

"Dear," Katya responded. 

The silence was heavy in the air.

"How was your night?" Goncharov asked. It was the most conversation they have had throughout the nights where Goncharov returned messy and drunk.

"Fine." 

A pause.

"Yours?" Katya continued. There was a note of amusement in her tone that Goncharov heard.

Goncharov swallowed thickly and his eyes dropped to the floor, unable to meet her gaze. She could see the redness on his neck and cheeks at the question. The smell of Andrey still remained on him, despite him changing. It was on his skin, then, rather than his clothes.

"It was fine," he said. Was that a slight tremor in his voice? Katya hid her smile.

The next day, Katya was in the bathroom, applying her makeup in the mirror. She dragged a red line of lipstick to her lips and gave them a small pop. She reached for her hair again, fixing each minor imperfection in her blonde curls. Katya stepped out, heels clicking on the floor as she steutted into the living room, where Goncharov sat, reading the newspaper in a leather chair. He flipped a page and raised his gaze to Katya.

"Going out?" He asked. For once, Katya didn't hear any tension or negative tones in his voice. He sounded calm. She liked it.

"Yes," Katya said. "Out to town with Sofia. I'll see you later." She walked past him, and he said goodbye. They only said goodbye. There were no more farewell kisses on the forehead, which was what they used to do. But it no longer served a purpose in their loveless marriage. 

She left the house, and six hours later when she returned, she stepped into the door to find her husband and Andrey Daddano laying on the couch together. It was a harmless position, but their flushed cheeks, messy hair, unbuttoned shirts, and sweaty chests implied something else. Katya knew this was happening between the two men for months now, but seeing it for herself, was surprising. She simply regarded them with raised eyebrows and walked away to leave them scrambling to collect themselves.

Andrey left after he had stammered an awkward apology to Katya, and the incident was never spoken of again. 

Not until one day, when Katya invited Sofia over. Goncharov was home and was busy with his paperwork. For once, it was actual work, and he wasn't just stalling. 

Katya and Sofia sat in the living room while Goncharov sat in the dining room, writing away with a pen to many papers. Katya smiled and laughed with Sofia, sipping cups of tea and reclining back in leather chairs. When Sofia left after a couple hours of casual chatting, Katya pressed herself to Sofia's lips, a deep kiss that made them breathless. When they seperated, Sofia glanced at Goncharov, but Katya looked significantly towards to the couch. Katya had told Sofia about the incident between Andrey and Goncharov on the couch. Sofia's eyes glitteded with amusement and a smile cracked at her lips. She gave an elegant snort of laughter, doing her best to hide it. Katya broke out into a series of giggles like a schoolgirl.

When Sofia did leave, Katya and Goncharov sat down for dinner. Goncharov had noticed their kiss, but remained silent. It was nothing compared to his desperate makeout session with Andrey.

"So," Katya began. "It's obvious that our marriage is dead."

Goncharov sighed but nodded. 

"I still care about you, Goncharov, but I don't love you anymore," Katya murmured. She reached out and firmly grabbed his hands in hers. "I love Sofia. You love Andrey."

"I still care about you, too," her husband said. "But yes, I do agree that the romance we once had, is gone."

"We don't need to act like we are in love," stated Katya. "We don't need to lie to eachother and act like we don't stay out all night with our lovers. I'm okay with you loving Andrey."

"And I'm okay with you loving Sofia."

"Exactly. Our marriage means nothing. We can be open about this with eachother."

Goncharov looked as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "I agree."

"One day," Katya murmured. "One day, we will live the lives we desire. But not now, not yet. Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it."

Goncharov sighed. He suddenly looked more tired than Katya had seen him. The grandfather clock ticked in the background. "That's what I'm worried about."

"But maybe," he continued. "With whatever happens, maybe we will make it out."