CHAPTER 139: HOW TO STOP CARING

It was a beautiful morning.

The sun poured through the tall windows in soft, golden light. The curtains swayed gently with the breeze. Inside the grand bedroom, everything was calm. Lydia sat quietly on the velvet chaise by the window. She wore a long black and gold silk robe. It hugged her gently and shimmered in the sunlight. Her long golden hair was still damp from her bath, and it fell like water down to her waist.

Her skin glowed softly. It smelled of expensive oils made from roses and jasmine. She looked like royalty without even trying.

On her lap was a book. She read it slowly as she ate her breakfast — fresh berries and grapes, soft cheese, and warm bread. She looked peaceful, but her eyes were sharp. Like a storm waiting behind calm clouds.

The door opened.

It was Katherine.

She walked in quietly and picked up the hairbrush from the vanity. Then she walked behind Lydia and gently began brushing her hair. Long strokes. Gentle hands. She didn’t speak at first. Lydia kept reading.

Then Lydia said without looking up, "Have you done what I asked of you?"

Katherine paused. Her hands froze for a second.

Then she said, softly, "Yes... I have."

Lydia closed the book gently and placed it beside her.

"Good," she replied.

But Katherine still looked troubled. She hesitated, and then she spoke again, even softer this time.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked. "This might... cause issues."

Lydia’s eyes didn’t blink.

"I don’t care," she said calmly but coldly. "Just do what I asked you."

Katherine nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. The preparations have already begun."

She brushed Lydia’s hair a few more times. Then she placed the brush down gently on the vanity.

She stood there for a moment longer.

Then she turned and walked toward the door. Before leaving, she paused at the doorway. She looked back at Lydia. Her eyes lingered on her mistress — strong, proud, untouchable. Then she walked away.

---

In the lounge, Ivan lay still.

He wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t reading. He wasn’t thinking clearly either. He just lay there on the long chaise in silence, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet, but his mind was not.

His heart was full of noise.

He could hear Lydia’s voice in his head. Her laughter. Her cries. The first time she whispered, I love you. It haunted him.

His eyes wandered across the room. They landed on the piano. It had been silent for a long time now. But in his heart, the music still played. And it hurt.

He stayed there. Silent. Still. It was like he was punishing himself. Every part of the room reminded him of her. The memories refused to let go.

Then the door opened.

He looked up.

He sighed.

It was Tatiana.

She walked in with a proud look on her face. Her hands were folded across her chest. She looked annoyed.

"I’ve been looking for you all morning," she said.

Ivan sat up slowly. His voice was tired.

"What is it?"

Tatiana stepped forward. She scoffed and said, "You really need to come downstairs."

"Why?"

She crossed her arms tighter. "Your wife is hosting a ball tonight. An actual ball, Ivan."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Tatiana raised her brows. "You heard me. She’s completely out of her mind. Everyone knows it’s forbidden to host balls. Ever since the late Czar died at one. Do you know what people will say? You better stop this madness."

Ivan didn’t answer. His face was blank. But inside, he was confused. He hadn’t expected this.

---

Back in Lydia’s room, it was quiet.

She sat where she had been all morning, still reading her book and eating her breakfast. The light in the room had changed a little — warmer now.

Then, a knock came on her door.

Without looking up, she said softly, "Come in."

She turned the page of her book.

She heard the door open, then close.

Then, footsteps.

She recognised the sound immediately. She scoffed.

It was Ivan.

He stood a few steps away from her.

His voice was quiet. "Can we talk?"

Lydia didn’t turn to him. She kept her eyes on her book.

"About what?" she asked coldly. "You and I have nothing to talk about."

Ivan stood still. There was a long silence. Then he finally said, "It’s about the ball."

She stood up slowly, closing the book in her hand.

"That’s not your business," she said. "I am the Grand Duchess. I can do whatever I want."

Her voice was calm, but sharp like a blade.

"It’s a ball to celebrate my return," she added. "If you don’t like it, don’t attend."

Ivan’s voice stayed calm. "That’s not why, Lydia. I’m just... worried about what people will say."

Lydia turned to him sharply.

"Since when do you care about my problems?" she asked.

Her tone was cold and bitter.

Ivan didn’t reply.

Then Lydia said, changing her tone, "You don’t even care about your grandfather. So why should I care about him?"

There was silence in the room again.

She looked at him for a moment longer. Then turned her back to him and said quietly, "Please leave. I want to be alone."

He looked at her.

Her face.

Her hair.

The sadness behind her words.

He wanted to say something. But he didn’t.

He turned and walked away slowly.

Before closing the door, he looked back at her. His eyes were soft. His heart was full.

But he left.

When Lydia heard the door close, she turned to her table.

There, lying quietly, was the book he had left in her room the day before.

The Last Voyage of Captain Elias.

Her and Ivan’s favourite book.

Her hand shook slightly as she picked it up from the table. Her fingers curled around it.

Her eyes burned with fury.

She looked at the book like it was haunting her. Then , she threw it against the wall.