CHAPTER 200: THE JOURNEY THROUGH LOVE AND LONGING PT3

It was sundown. The fading light stretched across the horizon, painting the sky in soft orange and purple. The carriages, worn from the long road, finally slowed to a stop in front of a modest inn.

Inside, Lydia leaned against the cushioned side of the carriage. Her face looked pale and tired, her body heavy from the endless hours of travel. Her eyes burned with exhaustion, but she said nothing. Across from her, Ivan sat still. His face carried the same fatigue. His jaw was tense, his expression calm, but his eyes were shadowed, heavy with thoughts.

The silence between them was thick, the kind of silence that pressed down on both of them, heavy and painful, full of words that neither dared to speak.

A knock sounded on the carriage door. Ivan leaned forward to open it. It was Katherine, her voice polite but carrying quiet concern.

"Your Highness," she said softly, bowing slightly, "your rooms are ready."

Lydia nodded wordlessly. She gathered her cloak around her shoulders and stepped out. The cool evening breeze brushed against her face. Anna was already standing nearby, speaking quietly with Boris. Xenia held a lantern, lighting the path toward the inn.

Ivan’s voice was low and steady. "Get some rest," he said to the others. "We’ll continue the journey at sunrise."

Katherine hesitated. She opened her mouth, then closed it. Finally, she spoke, her tone almost apologetic. "Your Highness..."

Lydia turned her tired eyes to her. "What is it?" she asked.

Katherine shifted uncomfortably, lowering her head. "There’s just... a little problem."

Ivan’s voice cut in, sharp but not unkind. "What problem?"

Katherine hesitated again before answering. "We couldn’t get enough rooms... because of the number of persons."

Lydia frowned. "So you are saying..." her voice dropped, her gaze shifting toward Ivan, "...that I should share a room with him?"

Katherine lowered her head further, ashamed. "Yes, Your Highness. But if you wish, I can check other inns along the road. Maybe I can arrange for some of the guards to stay elsewhere—"

"No." Lydia cut her off, her voice quiet but firm. "Leave it. Looking for other inns will only be a hassle. And you are already tired. Let’s just get rest."

Her tone allowed no argument. She brushed past them, walking toward the entrance of the inn.

Ivan followed behind silently.

The inn was warm inside, lit with flickering candles and the faint scent of bread and wood smoke. Their room was simple but clean—a large bed pressed against the wall, a chair near the corner, and a small table beside the window.

Once inside, Lydia sat on the bed without a word. Her shoulders slumped, her hands resting in her lap. She looked fragile under the soft lamplight.

Ivan pulled out the chair and sat down. His tall frame looked too large for the small space. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes on the floor.

The silence that stretched between them this time was different. Not just heavy, but sharp. It hurt. Every second was like a reminder of how close they were, yet how far apart.

A knock sounded at the door, breaking it. Ivan rose and opened it. The innkeeper stood there, smiling nervously, a tray in her hands.

"I brought you dinner, Your Highnesses," she said, bowing quickly. She stepped in, set the tray on the small table, and left quietly.

The food smelled warm, comforting—bread, broth, and roasted meat—but neither seemed eager. Still, they sat and ate quietly. The clink of cutlery was the only sound. No words. No glances. Just silence.

When Lydia finished, she returned to the bed, sitting at the edge. Her body was exhausted, her eyes half-closed. She was waiting. She knew Xenia would come soon to help her with her dress. She needed help with the ribbons and laces, and she couldn’t undress on her own.

Ivan remained seated at the table, silent.

Minutes passed. Then more. The candle burned lower.

An hour.

Lydia’s eyes felt heavy, her body begging for rest, but still Xenia hadn’t come. She sighed. She couldn’t sleep in the dress. The fabric felt tight, heavy, and suffocating.

She finally stood, walked to the mirror, and tried to untie the ribbon herself. Her fingers fumbled, tugging at the knots. She twisted her arms behind her, struggling. But the more she tried, the more impossible it felt.

Her breath grew uneven with frustration. She whispered under her breath, "Why now... why not just come..."

Then she felt something.

A quiet presence behind her. She froze.

Her heart leapt into her throat. She didn’t turn, but she knew. Ivan.

Her breath quickened as she saw his reflection in the mirror. He stepped closer, his tall figure casting a shadow across her back.

She felt his hand gently sweep her hair forward, gathering the soft strands and moving them over her shoulder. His touch was delicate, almost trembling. Then his fingers moved to the ribbons.

He was careful. Very careful. As though afraid of hurting her. He tugged lightly, loosening the knots. The sound of the fabric shifting filled the silence.

Lydia’s chest rose and fell quickly. Her heart beat so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

His fingers brushed against her back as he worked. They were warm, steady, lingering just a moment too long before moving away. She closed her eyes, her lips pressed together to keep from gasping.

He wanted to touch her more. She felt it. His hands hovered, hesitating. But he held himself back.

Finally, the last ribbon fell loose. He lowered his hands. His voice was so soft, almost a whisper. "I’m done."

And then he stepped back.

The space between them widened again.

Lydia snapped out of her daze, her mind screaming at her to breathe. She scolded herself silently, angry at the way her body reacted to him, angry at the weakness in her chest.

Quickly, she slipped out of the dress and put on a plain robe. She climbed into bed, pulling the covers close around her. She lay at one end, turning her face away.

Ivan had already moved to the other side. He stretched out carefully, his back to her, facing the wall.

Neither spoke.

The silence wrapped around them like a heavy blanket.

Lydia tried to close her eyes, tried to stop her thoughts, tried not to remember the warmth of his fingers against her skin. But her heart kept beating too loudly.

Ivan lay still, his body tense. He wanted to turn, to look at her. He wanted to touch her, to pull her close, to tell her everything he had locked away. But he stayed where he was, staring at the wall, forcing his body not to move.

Slowly, exhaustion overcame them both. Their thoughts blurred. Their hearts still ached. But finally, they drifted into sleep.

Side by side.

Close enough to feel each other’s presence.

Yet worlds apart.