CHAPTER 161: THE SILENT STORM

Ivan leaned in. His hand moved gently, almost afraid to touch, yet it found its way to her lips. His fingers brushed them softly, like a whisper. Then he tucked her hair behind her ear, slow and tender, as though even that small touch was too much for him to claim.

Lydia slowly leaned back until her body rested against the bed. Ivan hovered over her, his breath shallow, his heart heavy with something he could not name. His lips moved closer, closer still. But at the very last moment, he stopped. His body froze. He could not do it. He felt as if he was stealing something precious, something he had no right to take. He could not kiss her. Not properly.

Then her voice broke the silence. It was soft, calm, almost like a caress itself.

"Ivan," she whispered.

The sound of her voice shattered what little restraint he had left. He wanted to stop, but he could not. He leaned closer, surrendering. His lips brushed against hers, faint as a breath, trembling with fear and longing.

But just as his lips barely touched her, Lydia burst out laughing. The sudden sound cut through the moment like glass breaking. Ivan froze at once, his whole body stiff.

"Why do you keep fighting with yourself?" she asked, her voice light but laced with something sharp. Her hands slid beneath his shirt, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. "You and I both know you want me."

Ivan trembled beneath her touch. His body betrayed him. He closed his eyes, fighting against himself, fighting against her, yet every muscle burned with the need to give in.

She leaned in and kissed him briefly. Her lips lingered for only a heartbeat before pulling away. Then, in a low voice, she said, "Just beg, Ivan. And I am all yours. Right now. Stop fighting yourself. Just beg."

His body shook. His breath came uneven, and his heart thundered so loud he thought she might hear it. He wanted her. He wanted her so badly it hurt. His lips parted, and he almost gave in. He almost begged.

But just then, the door opened.

Boris stood there, frozen in shock. His face turned red, and his words stumbled. "I... I... my apologies..."

Ivan panicked. He quickly adjusted Lydia’s robe, covering her bare shoulders, shielding her from Boris’s eyes. His movements were quick, frantic, almost desperate.

But Lydia only smirked. She stood gracefully and walked to the vanity as though nothing had happened. She looked at Boris with a mocking smile. "Why are you acting surprised, Boris? It is not like it’s your first time walking in on us."

Her voice carried a playful sting, and she sat back down, turning her eyes to the pile of glittering gifts. Her fingers traced the edges of the boxes as if she had already forgotten the man who had hovered over her seconds ago.

Ivan’s jaw tightened. He turned to Boris, his voice sharp but low. "Let’s go to my study."

Without another glance at Lydia, he left.

Lydia stayed in the room, her lips curving in a small, secret smile. Yet her eyes, when they glanced at the door, betrayed her. She wanted him to come back. She wanted him to stay.

---

On the way to the study, Boris broke the silence with a laugh.

"You know, I and Nikolai were worried for nothing," he teased. "We thought she would have stabbed you by now. But from the looks of it, you..." He grinned. "I don’t know. Should I say you’re the one about to be stabbed? But in a different way?"

Ivan said nothing. His face was grim, his silence heavy.

Boris chuckled at first, but when he noticed Ivan’s expression, his laughter faded. He saw the sorrow there, the weight pressing on his friend’s heart.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"It’s nothing," Ivan muttered.

When they reached the study, Ivan cleared his throat. "Why are you here?"

Boris set his bag down and pulled out a parchment. "I came to give you this."

Ivan opened it. The seal of Vladimir was stamped on it. It was a document, formal and heavy. Inside were orders concerning Venograd, the land Zolotaria had won through war. The emperor sought Ivan’s approval to begin redistributing the land among loyal nobles, to build fortresses there, to make their victory permanent.

Ivan read it, then set it down, his eyes narrowing. He looked at Boris. "This could have been brought by any messenger. Why are you really here?"

Boris did not answer at first. He simply stepped closer and placed a hand on Ivan’s shoulder. His voice was low, steady. "Because I am worried about you. I am worried you’ll get hurt."

Ivan’s lips moved without thought. "I deserve to get hurt."

Boris froze. He had heard it, faint but clear. "What do you mean?"

But Ivan’s face hardened again. He said nothing.

"Ivan," Boris pressed, "what do you mean?"

Still, Ivan remained silent. After a long pause, he shook his head. "I’ll talk later."

With that, he left the study and went to the library. He wanted the silence of books. He wanted the loneliness. He dragged himself inside and stayed there the whole day, refusing anyone who came near.

---

Back in the room, Lydia remained. She kept glancing at the door though she pretended not to. She told herself she didn’t care if Ivan returned or not, but her eyes betrayed her.

He didn’t come back.

As the sun fell and night came, a knock sounded at the door. Her heart jumped. But when the door opened, it was not him. It was only a servant, carrying her dinner.

Lydia’s heart sank.

She sighed, taking the tray. She ate slowly, pushing the food around, her mind elsewhere. After a while, she gave up and set it aside.

Her body felt heavy. She laid on the bed, exhaustion wrapping around her. Her eyes closed, and she drifted into sleep.

But outside, the rain began to fall. Soft at first, then heavier, until it beat against the windows like restless hands.

Lydia stirred. Her body moved uneasily beneath the blankets. Her lips parted, trembling. Her voice slipped out in a soft, broken whisper.

"Ivan..."

Her face twisted with distress. Her hands clutched the blanket tightly.

"Our baby..." she whimpered.

Her voice cracked. The sound was filled with pain, with longing, with grief that lingered even in her sleep.

Rain poured harder against the glass. Inside the room, Lydia trembled, lost in her dream, calling the name of the man who was not there.