CHAPTER 234: LOVE AND PAIN

The night came in slowly, painting the sky in shades of purple and gold as the sun set over Svetlana. The city was alive that evening. Every street seemed to glow with lights, laughter, and carriages rushing past, because today was the birthday of the Grand Duchess. The people loved her, even those who had once whispered against her, and on this night, the whole of Svetlana was awake and waiting.

Inside her chambers, Lydia stood in front of her mirror. Her reflection was breathtaking. She looked almost unreal, too beautiful to be human. Her gown sparkled like a delicate red rose touched with dew, shimmering with each small movement she made. Around her neck rested a red diamond, perfectly matched with the jewels that hung from her ears and circled her wrist. She looked like a painting brought to life. She looked more like an empress than a grand duchess.

But in her eyes, she did not see beauty. She did not see power. She only saw confusion and emptiness. Her heart was heavy. She felt as if she was wearing another woman’s face, another woman’s smile. It was supposed to be her birthday, but it did not feel like it. The night that should have been full of joy felt hollow.

She didn’t know what to do anymore, or even what to feel. The thoughts from the morning still haunted her—the letter, the handwriting, the doubt. She was exhausted from holding herself together.

"Just hang on," she whispered to her reflection. "Just hang on."

Anna, who had been standing silently beside her, saw all of it. She saw the emptiness in Lydia’s eyes, the way her lips trembled, the way her shoulders sagged when she thought no one was looking. Anna felt a pang of worry in her chest. She thought, I hope everything goes well today. I hope nothing breaks her further.

Lydia turned away from the mirror. Her voice was steady, though her heart was not. "Let’s go," she said. "The guests should be waiting."

Anna nodded quickly and followed her.

Far away, in another chamber, Ivan lay stretched on his bed. His eyes were open, but they held no rest. His clothes for the ball were spread neatly beside him, untouched. From the quiet of his room, he could hear faintly the music from the ball drifting through the air. It was cheerful, full of life, but inside his chest was only silence and guilt.

His heart whispered to him, Go. Go and wish her a happy birthday. She is waiting. She needs you. But his head screamed louder, You cannot. You have no right. Not after everything you have done. Not after the pain you have given her.

His door opened, and Boris stepped in. He was already dressed for the ball, his coat shining, his shoes polished. He looked at Ivan on the bed and frowned.

"Are you not going, your highness?" Boris asked carefully.

Ivan shook his head. His voice was quiet but firm. "No."

"Why?" Boris pressed gently.

Ivan stared at the ceiling. "Because I don’t belong there. I don’t belong in her life. Not after what I did to her. Not after all the pain she has suffered because of me."

Boris stepped closer, his face serious. "Then what about the pain you are causing her now?"

Ivan blinked and turned his head slowly. "What do you mean?"

"I know you hurt her," Boris said, his voice steady. "I know you regret it. But you didn’t mean it the way she thinks. You wanted to protect her. You wanted to take the burden yourself. But do you really think you are helping her now? Do you think that leaving her alone in this pain is good for her? You are destroying yourself, yes. But in the process, you are destroying her too."

Ivan’s chest tightened. He sat up, his eyes searching Boris’s face.

Boris continued, "Ivan, please... try to fix things with her. Not just for yourself, but for her too. She is strong, but she is breaking. I can see it. Everyone can see it. Go to the ball. At least attend. At least stand there and let her know she is not alone."

Ivan lowered his eyes. His hands trembled as they rested on his knees. The music from the ballroom echoed louder in his ears, and with it came the memory of her face—the way she looked at him, the way she cried.

He didn’t answer, but his silence said enough.

Meanwhile, in the grand ballroom, everything was as splendid as everyone expected. It was extravagant, filled with wonder. The theme was like Eve’s garden brought to life. Exotic peacocks stood proudly by the doors, their feathers catching the light. Flowers of every color decorated the hall, their fragrance drifting through the air. The chandeliers glittered like stars, and the stewards were dressed like angels, with silver wings that shimmered as they moved gracefully among the guests.

It was a sight meant to dazzle, and it did. Every noble and guest who entered felt they had stepped into a dream.

At the top of the stairs, Lydia appeared.

She looked like a vision in her gown, glowing beneath the lights. Everyone’s eyes lifted to her, and a hush fell across the room. She moved slowly down the steps, her head high, her face calm, though inside her chest her heart pounded painfully. She was trembling, just slightly, enough that Anna noticed.

Anna moved quickly, gracefully, so no one else would see. She placed her hand gently at Lydia’s arm, steadying her, and whispered so quietly no one could hear.

"If you don’t feel well, your highness, you should take a break," Anna murmured.

But Lydia forced a small smile. "I’m fine," she whispered back. "I must be fine."

They reached the floor, and the music swelled. The ball began. Couples danced beautifully, their gowns and coats swirling like waves across the polished floor. Laughter and cheer filled the air.

Lydia stood in the center, her red gown catching every eye. People looked at her in awe, whispered about her beauty, but she felt nothing. No joy, no pride. She only felt empty.

She watched the dancers move, but it was as if she was outside of it all, standing in a world where she did not belong. Her hands clutched at each other in front of her. She smiled faintly when people greeted her, but it was only the shell of a smile.

And then, in the midst of the glittering crowd, her eyes found him.

Ivan.

He was there.

The moment she saw him, the noise of the ballroom disappeared. The music faded. The laughter vanished. The dancing couples blurred into shadows.

It was just him.

And it was just her.

Their eyes locked across the room, and time seemed to stop.

Lydia’s chest tightened so hard she almost couldn’t breathe. Her lips parted slightly, her heart beating fast. He looked different tonight, not in his clothes, but in his face. He looked haunted. He looked lost. He looked as though every step he took hurt him, but he was still there, still standing before her.

She wanted to turn away. She wanted to run. But her eyes betrayed her, clinging to his, unable to let go.

And in that silence between them, something deeper than words passed through the air.