Elizaveta stood at the door with her bags packed and her heart glowing inside her eyes. The carriage had arrived, leaving everyone within that manor to a state of mild depression.
Toris and Feliks had said their good-byes.
"Thank you so much for coming to visit us darling." The Polish man left a kiss upon her cheek, as did the brunette.
"Thank you for coming, Elizaveta."
"Of course. Thank you both for having me." The gorgeous thing embraced her companions; then she donned the good-byes and slipped through that grand porthole, a few servants carrying her luggage.
And from that point on, every single visit followed the exact same pattern.
Elizaveta would arrive. She would speak to Feliks. She would find Toris within his chamber and they would make love. Night after night after night. The greatest part was that blond did not even suspect either if them of such activities. He never heard them. He never saw them.
God, it became so simple.
And due to Elizaveta's much needed arrivals, Toris' terrible itch was finally allowed to be scratched.
Thanks to this cease of constant and violent suffering, the Lithuanian could finally tolerate his silly counterpart. It was almost as it used to be. Spontaneous kisses within the hallways. Love made frequently. More affection shared between the two.
Life had become less mundane.
It was hardly mundane at all.
Feliks would frequently ask the Lithuanian what made him so content all so suddenly, usually wrapped around him sweetly during the night, kissing those pink cheeks and lapping at that warmed skin.
"Oh, it's nothing." He would say. "It only helps to break up all that work from time to time." Then a press would be donated in return.
"Do you enjoy Elizaveta's visits?"
"Yes, I do."
"I think she likes to spend time with you, Toris." A palm settling into the lonesome nook of the man's neck. "I know I do."
"I'm certain she likes you more, Feliks." Those words were so very ironic, it was laughable. "After all, you're the reason why she keeps returning."
"What makes you say that?"
"The both of you are such dear friends. Elizaveta and I hardly know one another."
"Oh Toris, you're just too much."
"Well, even if that is the case, I'm still certain she adores your company. It's not as though our relationship tarnishes yours, darling."
"No. It's quite harmonious when she visits. No conflict what-so-ever."
"Yes. Our time amongst one another is very nice." Feliks shut those bright green eyes. "I'm sleepy, love. I'll see you in the morning."
"See you in the morning, Feliks."
Yes. That was what their life had become. A beautiful castle built upon bricks of manure. Nothing about it was correct. Nothing at all.
Toris did not even feel guilt for their circumstances. His lying came naturally as breath and the man could pretend as well as a renowned actor. He might as well have been paid to do so.
Well, this new and faux happiness did have certain benefits.
The entire mansion was kept in a state of peace.
However there were the rare times when Toris' mind became overrun with the thoughts of what exactly he was committing. It was not exactly repentance. Heavens no. But it was a deep and abysmal contemplation.
What if Toris managed to be caught?
What if Elizaveta had become pregnant?
What if that stupid Austrian already knew?
What would become of them all?
It was a myriad of cruel questions that never seemed to be alleviated. In those short and few brooding silences, they rained as a plethora with no signs of ceasing or letting up. Something about it was mental torture. The unfaithful brunette wound himself into t tight circles, tying limbs into knots and becoming a condensed ball of writhing mass. What was to be done?
He was not willing to murder his affair.
That stupid creature was convinced he was in love.
What a joke.
So, it would go on until something or other put an end to that putrid dance of sex and thought. In a way, Toris felt a pulpy sort of remorse for his actions, but that sentiment was so convoluted and incorrect, it was hardly even to be granted a definite title.
It did not even occur to him that he was being used.
Nor, that he was using that willing doll.
No. None of that blatant dysfunction was acknowledged. It was all brushed beneath the heavy fur rug, shaped as a boulder and festering as a tumor.
When would someone trip over that mess? Stumble upon it and lift the edges of that ruined cover?
How long could it truly be?
Well, as of now that building concern and avalanche of lies was not a problem. Toris could sleep peacefully and that was all that mattered.
Unfortunately, karma tends to strike with a dagger.
And she does not carry mercy.