CHAPTER 236: THE BROKEN KISS PT1

Few minutes ago

Lydia tried to step forward, to move toward the door, but her legs trembled. Her sight blurred. The chandeliers above her spun in circles. Her body grew weaker with every step she tried to take.

Her knees wobbled. Her lips parted, searching for air.

Her body could not hold on anymore.

---

She tried to stable herself but instead she twisted her ankle and fell to the ground.

The entire ball was quiet. Every violin string, every laugh, every murmur—it all stopped at once. The grand hall stood frozen as if time itself had been shattered.

Anna gasped and quickly rushed to Lydia’s side. Her hands shook as she tried to lift her. "Your Highness," she whispered frantically, her voice trembling with fear.

Katherine also pushed through the crowd, her gown brushing against the marble floor as she hurried. She knelt beside Lydia without care for appearances, without care for the nobles who stared with hungry eyes, ready to twist this moment into gossip.

The crowd murmured louder now. Faces leaned closer. A few hands covered mouths. A ripple of whispers moved across the ballroom like wildfire.

Lydia managed to stand on her own, though her feet were screaming in pain. She pushed both Anna and Katherine away gently. She lifted her chin, forcing her dignity back into place even though her body begged to collapse again.

"I am okay," she said clearly. Her voice echoed through the silence, stronger than she felt inside. "I am just a little tired from the preparations. Please, continue."

The murmurs didn’t stop, but the orchestra slowly began to play again. The tension softened, though eyes still followed her like hawks.

Her foot throbbed, each step stabbing like knives, but she walked carefully, hiding her limp, her body stiff with the effort. She would rather break her own bones than show weakness in front of these people.

The moment she stepped outside the ballroom, the mask cracked. The air hit her face, and the pain rushed in like fire. She slipped off her heels quickly, her breath catching as she looked down. Her ankle was swollen, red and angry.

Katherine and Anna had followed her immediately, their voices soft and worried.

"Are you okay, Your Highness?" Katherine asked.

"I’m fine," Lydia said, her voice calm but tired. "Please... help me to my chambers."

They moved to support her, each one holding her arms gently. Lydia leaned on them only as much as she had to. Every step was torment, but she bit her lip until she tasted blood. She would not groan. She would not cry.

By the stairs, they ran into Boris. His sharp eyes immediately noticed her limp.

"Your Highness, what happened? Why are you limping?" he asked with alarm.

Lydia gave him the same cold mask she gave the world. "I am fine. It is nothing serious. I just hurt myself a little. I will go and rest."

But inside, she was breaking.

---

Now

Ivan’s heart raced as he stormed down the corridor, his boots pounding against the floor. The moment Boris had spoken—"Her Highness... she’s hurt"—his world had tilted. His breath caught. His chest tightened as if someone had gripped his lungs with iron fists.

He did not even hear the rest. He ran. He ran as though his life depended on it.

He pushed Lydia’s door open with force.

There she was.

Seated on the bed, her gown already changed to a soft robe. Her hair had fallen a little from its curls. She looked tired, pale, fragile—but still so beautiful it nearly killed him.

Katherine was beside her, adjusting pillows, trying to make her comfortable.

"Lydia," he breathed, his voice cracking. "Are you okay?"

Lydia’s eyes lifted to him. She saw him standing there, his face flushed, his shirt undone at the collar, sweat clinging to his forehead. Did he run all the way here? Why?

She said nothing. She just stared.

Ivan turned to Katherine quickly. "I heard she was hurt. What happened?"

Katherine straightened, bowing slightly. "Her Highness twisted her ankle. The physician is on the way. It is nothing serious."

Ivan’s gaze dropped to Lydia’s feet. He saw the swelling. His heart squeezed painfully at the sight.

"Oh," he whispered, his throat dry.

Katherine lowered her head. "I will take my leave now, Your Highness."

She moved toward the door, but Ivan’s voice stopped her.

"Tell the physician not to bother coming," he said firmly.

Katherine froze, confused. She glanced between Lydia and Ivan. Lydia’s brows rose in disbelief.

"What?" Lydia asked sharply.

Katherine hesitated, unsure what to do.

Ivan stepped closer, his voice gentler now. "Don’t worry. I’ll massage it for you."

Lydia scoffed lightly, though her chest was beating wildly. "Do whatever you please," she said coldly.

Ivan pulled a chair closer and sat by the settee at the side of the bed. His large hands reached for her foot. Carefully, he lifted her ankle into his palms. His touch was gentle, almost trembling.

His thumb pressed against the swollen flesh, moving in slow circles.

Lydia winced. "Gentle," she hissed softly.

"Oh, sorry," he said quickly, lowering the pressure. His eyes were full of worry.

She stared at him as he worked. His face was tight with concentration, his jaw clenched. His hands shook slightly. She could feel how broken he was, as if even this small injury was stabbing him inside.

His touch grew softer, tender, almost reverent. His fingers traced her skin carefully, as though she were something fragile that might break.

Her body betrayed her. Heat spread through her leg, up to her chest, her face. She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles white, fighting the storm of feelings inside her.

Then, without warning, his lips lowered.

He pressed a kiss against her ankle. So soft. So careful. As if he were worshipping her.

Lydia’s breath caught.

Her eyes widened. Her whole body tensed.

"Ivan..." she whispered, her voice breaking, though she didn’t even know why she spoke his name like that.

His lips lingered for a moment longer. His eyes closed. His whole being seemed to ache in that single kiss.

Her heart pounded painfully. She wanted to scream at him, to push him away, to tell him how much he had hurt her. But she also wanted to fall into him, to let him hold her, to let him fix everything with just his arms around her.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

And yet, in that moment, the world disappeared.

There was no ball. No whispers. No pain.

Only Ivan.

Only Lydia.

And a kiss on a swollen ankle that felt more intimate than any embrace.