CHAPTER 119: THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

Ivan and Lydia were still hugging. Their breaths were unsteady, their arms locked around each other like they were afraid to let go. After a long moment, Ivan gently pulled back just enough to look at her face. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb, and she did the same for him.

"I was scared," he whispered. "I thought I wouldn’t see you again."

Lydia nodded, her voice shaking. "Me too."

They hugged again, tighter this time. Like they were trying to put each other’s hearts back together. Like something had shattered and this was the only way to keep the pieces from falling apart.

Neither spoke for a while. Their silence was heavy but comforting. Their fingers clung to each other’s clothes like children afraid of being left behind. Ivan’s cheek rested against her head, his hand brushing soothingly over her back, and Lydia’s eyes closed, trying to memorize the sound of his heartbeat. That steady, quiet rhythm. That was home now.

A soft knock came on the door.

It was Alexander.

He stood by the doorway, his voice low and uncertain. "Can I speak to you, Lydia? My apologies... Your Highness. Alone."

Ivan glanced at Lydia, who gave a small nod. "I’ll wait outside," Ivan said quietly.

The moment he stepped out, the room felt cold.

Alexander looked at her for a long time before speaking. His eyes didn’t carry the same strength they once had. There was an edge of shame in them now, a flicker of guilt that hadn’t been there before. He looked older somehow. Smaller. Like the weight of his choices had finally begun to show on his face.

"I just wanted to see that you’re okay. Since you are... I think it’s time we say goodbye. I and your cousins will be heading back to the capital now."

He turned to leave.

But Lydia’s voice broke through the silence. "How could you do that?"

Alexander turned around slowly. "What do you mean?"

She stepped forward, her voice trembling. "The deal with Venograd. I know everything. I know how you used our family’s ships to smuggle weaponry and spies into Zolotaria. That’s why you never wanted me involved in the family business. You were afraid I’d ruin your dirty deal."

Her hands were clenched at her sides. She looked like she wanted to scream, but all that came out were tears. "He killed my parents in front of me. And you still did business with him. How could you do this to us? How could you ruin our lives for extra gold? Do you even understand what would happen if the royal family finds out?"

Alexander’s voice grew cold. "That’s why you’ll keep your mouth shut."

Lydia blinked. "What?"

"General Zaitsev is already dead. There’s no one left to expose what happened."

Lydia took a shaky breath. "You mean everything is buried now, don’t you? You don’t even care that because of you I had to..."

Her voice broke. She looked away, trying to calm the storm in her chest. Her lips trembled as she covered her mouth, swallowing down the scream rising in her throat. The pain of betrayal was like acid in her stomach. A deep, twisting kind of pain that no apology could ever fix.

"Please leave. I don’t want to see your face again. Thanks, Uncle... for ruining my life."

Alexander stood there for a moment. His face didn’t change, but something behind his eyes broke. His shoulders fell, just slightly.

Then, without moving closer, he said, "I didn’t ruin your life, Lydia. I know you hate me. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I’m sorry for everything. I don’t regret the choices I made. Maybe they were wrong, but they were the only way I knew how to protect my children. And you."

He paused. His voice cracked for the first time. "And about what I said before... about you not talking to my children... I’m sorry for that too. Goodbye, Lydia."

He left.

Tears poured down Lydia’s cheeks. Her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor. Her hands pressed into the rug, and she gasped for breath, as if the truth had knocked the air out of her lungs. She didn’t know what hurt more — the betrayal, or the fact that a part of her understood why he did it. She hated that there was no one she could blame fully. No clean answer. Only pain.

She hugged her knees to her chest and rocked slightly, trying to calm herself, but her whole body shook. Her heart felt like it was splitting open, like something inside her had died. Everything she believed in, every bit of loyalty and love she once had for him, lay in pieces now. And yet, some broken part of her still remembered being a child in his arms, still remembered calling him "Papa" after her real father died.

Minutes later, the door opened again.

It was Ivan.

He said nothing. He just walked straight to her and wrapped her in his arms.

"I’m here," he whispered.

She melted against him and cried.

She cried until her body ached. Until her throat burned and her chest heaved with every breath. And Ivan held her through all of it, his hands firm and warm, his touch steady. He didn’t ask her to explain. He didn’t tell her to stop. He just stayed with her, patient and quiet, until the storm inside her began to settle.

After some time passed, she nudged him gently. "I’m okay. It’s just... I hated my uncle for so long. And now I know the truth, but I still want to hate him. I should understand him, but I can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me."

Ivan kissed her hair softly. "Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s okay."

Another knock came.

It was a servant. She bowed. "Your Highness, His Majesty wants a word with you."

Ivan turned to Lydia. "I’ll be back soon."

He left.

The moment he did, Lydia broke again. She sat on the bed and wept. Everything felt too heavy. Her chest hurt from holding back the truth. She had to tell him about her deal with Olga. She couldn’t hide that anymore.

But she knew she could never tell him about her uncle’s betrayal. That truth would only destroy them both.

She sat there sobbing, trying to hold herself together.

Then another knock.

It was her maids. They came in quietly to help her. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t speak. They just helped her remove her heavy gown and filled the bath with warm water. One of them gently untangled her hair, another placed warm towels nearby. The kindness was too much. It made her cry again. Because sometimes, kindness hurts more than cruelty — because it reminds you of what you’ve lost.

Outside, Vladimir and Olga were already prepared to leave for the capital. Vladimir stood still, hands behind his back. Olga, with her usual bitterness, barely glanced at anyone.

Ivan stepped outside, his voice cold. "You asked for me, Your Majesty?"

Vladimir nodded. "Yes. I just wanted to know if the Grand Duchess is alright."

"She is," Ivan replied, his tone distant.

"I’ll take my leave then," Vladimir said. He looked at Ivan as if he wanted to say more. His eyes were heavy with unsaid thoughts, but his mouth remained shut.

Olga passed by, scoffing softly, and entered her carriage.

Inside, she muttered under her breath, "In just a few days."

Vladimir opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. Ivan didn’t wait. He bowed and walked away.

But deep down, Ivan felt the same. So much had changed in just a few days. Too much.

On his way back, he ran into Leonid, who whispered something in his ear.

A small smile appeared on Ivan’s face for the first time in a while. Leonid ran to the carriage, and Vladimir watched him quietly. He didn’t say a word, but a flicker of relief crossed his face.

At least Ivan smiled.

Back in Lydia’s room, she had just taken her bath. Her hair was still damp. She had dressed in a soft gown, her eyes red but calm now.

The door opened.

It was Ivan.

The maids quickly curtsied and left the room, giving them space.

Ivan walked up to her and gently cupped her face.

"What is it?" he asked, looking into her eyes. "You’ve been looking sad all morning."

Lydia looked away for a second. Then forced a soft smile. "It’s nothing."

But it was everything.

Everything was burning inside her. The guilt, the secrets, the betrayal. Her deal with Olga... the pain her uncle caused... all of it.

She wanted to tell him everything. Every single word. But she was scared.

She knew that once she spoke, this warmth between them might disappear. This closeness, this safety — it might not survive the truth.

She knew she couldn’t tell him about her uncle’s deal. That had to remain buried. But she had to tell him about Olga. She couldn’t hide it forever.

Just not today.

Just for today, she wanted to feel his love. His arms. His warmth.

Just one day with no obstacles. No pain. No truths.

Only them.

Only love.

So she leaned into his touch and whispered in her heart: "Tomorrow, I’ll tell him everything. But not today."

Today, she just wanted to be his.

And she wanted him to be hers.