CHAPTER 134: THE MIRROR OF THE PAST

Outside, Ivan, Lydia, and Tatiana stood near the carriages. The morning was quiet, but there was tension in the air so thick it could be felt.

Katherine walked over, her voice calm but a little apologetic. "My apologies," she said, looking at Lydia. "Since we left with only two carriages, you would have to share a carriage with His Highness."

Lydia didn’t say anything. Her face didn’t change. She just walked toward the carriage.

Ivan instinctively stepped forward and reached out his hand to help her in, but she didn’t take it. Without even looking at him, she climbed inside by herself. Ivan lowered his hand slowly, then followed her in, quietly taking his seat.

Tatiana stood behind, watching the whole thing. Her hands clenched the fabric of her dress tightly. Yelena stood beside her and whispered, "My lady, please calm down."

She even offered to help her into the second carriage, but Tatiana jerked away and climbed in on her own, her face stiff with anger.

The carriages began to move slowly through the city. Outside, everything looked peaceful. But inside, there was no peace.

In the first carriage, Lydia sat perfectly still. Her eyes were on the book in her hands, but she hadn’t turned a page in a while. She wasn’t reading. Or maybe she was. Either way, she didn’t look up.

Ivan sat across from her, his hands resting on his knees. But his eyes were on her the whole time. Her face was calm. Her hair was tied simply. She looked exactly like she did years ago, but something about her felt completely different.

He couldn’t help but remember. The day after their wedding. They had traveled together, just like now. She had pretended to read too. She kept peeking over the book, trying to look at him without him noticing. Back then, he acted like he didn’t care, but the truth was... he had been watching her too. Quietly. Curiously. Softly.

But now, she didn’t even glance at him. Not once. Her eyes didn’t lift from the book. Not even slightly.

In the second carriage, things were worse.

Tatiana sat between Katherine and Yelena. She kept clenching her fists on her lap, trying to stay calm, trying to act like nothing was wrong. But her mind was in chaos.

How could she stay calm?

Yesterday was supposed to be her wedding. Her big day. Her crown. Her moment. But Lydia ruined it. She stormed in like a ghost and turned everything upside down. Now Tatiana didn’t even know what was going on anymore. Ivan hadn’t said anything to her. Not a word.

Was the wedding still going to happen? Did he still want her? Was he even going to speak to her again?

She bit her lower lip, hard. Her eyes burned with tears, but she blinked them away. She refused to cry. Not in front of Katherine. Not in front of Yelena. Not like this.

Back in the first carriage, the day was getting warmer.

Lydia reached out and gently pushed the window open on her side. A soft breeze entered, brushing her cheeks and her hair. Her hand stayed on the window frame for a moment.

Outside, the Andreyevna Estate came into view. The same estate she had once called home.

Her eyes drifted to it. Her face didn’t show any sadness. No warmth. No fondness. Just emptiness.

Ivan saw her expression. Or maybe he saw the lack of it. He turned slightly and opened his mouth, about to tell the coachman to stop. Just for a moment. Maybe let her look a little longer.

But before he could speak, Lydia said, without turning her head, "Don’t bother."

Her voice was flat. Quiet. Not angry. Just tired.

She turned back to her book and lifted it again.

Ivan didn’t say anything else. He just sat back slowly, his jaw clenched. He didn’t know what to feel. He didn’t even know if she was hurting. Or if she was just done.

Inside the Andreyevna Estate, the family was having breakfast.

But no one was eating with joy. The table was full of food, but the plates stayed mostly untouched.

Alexander sat at the head of the table, silent.

Elena sat near him, gently stirring her tea. Anya sat with a straight back, her eyes on her untouched bread. Mikhail leaned against the table, deep in thought. Pyotr sat quietly, picking at his food.

Galina and Daria moved around the table, serving dishes.

Galina finally spoke, softly. "My lord, is it true that Lady Lydia returned?"

Daria, who had also been quiet, added, "No one is saying anything. Please, tell us."

There was silence.

Then Mikhail looked up. He was the first to speak. "She did return. But she’s not the same."

Galina frowned. "What do you mean?"

Pyotr answered this time. "She’s different. Like the old Lydia is..."

He stopped halfway.

Anya continued, finishing his sentence. "Dead. Like the old Lydia is dead. I don’t even know who she is anymore."

Nobody said anything after that.

Alexander only let out a long sigh. It was deep and heavy, like it had been sitting in his chest for a long time.

After breakfast, the halls of the house were quiet.

Elena stood outside her father’s study, then knocked gently.

"Come in," he said.

She stepped inside, holding her gloves and her shawl.

"I’m heading back now," she said. "To my husband’s house."

Alexander nodded slowly. "Safe travels."

Elena stood still for a moment, looking at him. Then she spoke, her voice soft.

"Papa... I hope you know... you are also at fault. For how Lydia turned out."

Alexander’s eyes lifted slowly to her.

She continued, her lips trembling. "If only you treated her well. If only you hadn’t been so cold to her. Maybe... just maybe..."

She stopped. Her voice broke. She pressed her hand to her mouth and sobbed quietly.

Alexander didn’t say anything.

For a long moment, he just looked at her. And finally, in a voice that sounded like it was filled with regret, he said, "I know."

Elena wiped her face, then stood tall again.

Without another word, she turned and left his study.

The door closed softly behind her.

And Alexander sat alone in the room, staring at nothing, his hands resting on the edge of his desk, the weight of silence pressing against his chest.