Chapter 241: Struck Between Hate And Love

Lydia remained on the floor, crying and clutching her chest. Her fingers dug into the soft fabric of her robe, twisting it tightly as if holding herself together was the only thing keeping her from breaking completely. The silk was thin beneath her nails, slipping against her skin, but she gripped it harder as though it were the only anchor she had. Her sobs tore out of her throat unevenly, sharp and heavy, each one breaking her apart a little more.

Her hair was a tangled curtain over her face, the strands sticking to her wet cheeks, but she didn’t care to move them. She could barely see through her swollen eyes, and even if she could, there was nothing in the golden-framed room that could comfort her. The walls, once warm with candlelight, seemed to lean inward, pressing down on her. The gilded patterns and polished floor only mocked her now—they sparkled while she fell apart. The air was thick, heavy, suffocating, as if grief itself had filled the chamber.

Outside her door, Ivan stood silently. The golden frame glowed faintly in the corridor light, the door between them both strong and fragile at the same time. He had walked away once, but his steps had faltered, his heart dragging him back. He couldn’t leave, not when her cries still echoed through the hall, faint but sharp enough to cut him open.

His hand hovered over the handle, his fingers trembling. He wanted to open it. He wanted to go inside, to fall on his knees beside her, to hold her and beg for forgiveness. But he couldn’t. He didn’t dare. His body pressed against the cold wood, his forehead leaning there as his eyes closed.

He whispered softly, almost as if she could hear him through the door. "I wish I could take away the pain I caused you. I wish I could undo everything. I’m sorry, Lydia. I’m so sorry."

But his words dissolved into the silence of the corridor, slipping into the cracks of the wood, never reaching her ears.

Inside, Lydia’s lips moved between sobs. "It hurts so much," she whispered through her tears, her voice low and broken, the words tumbling out like shattered glass. No one heard her. The room swallowed them, but they lingered in the air as if they carried weight, as if even the walls felt her pain.

Ivan’s fingers curled against the carved frame of the golden door. His jaw clenched, a sharp ache spreading through his face. His heart burned with helplessness. For the first time in his life, he felt small—smaller than a man, smaller than a shadow. He had power, he had armies, he had a throne. But in front of her pain, he had nothing. He turned away slowly, every movement heavy, as if the air itself was pushing him down. His boots dragged against the polished floor, each step a cruel reminder that he was walking away from her, again.

His mind spun with memories, regrets, choices that could never be undone. He saw her smile from the past, the way her laughter had once made him believe in peace, and then he saw her tears now, broken by his hand. The ache in his chest grew unbearable.

Maybe she was right. Maybe nothing could fix what he had destroyed. He couldn’t give her back what she had lost. He couldn’t take away the nights she had spent alone, the pain he had caused her, the scars he left on her heart. The thought twisted inside him like a blade. Perhaps the only mercy left was distance. If he stayed away, he wouldn’t wound her further. If he let go, maybe she would heal without him.

As these thoughts dragged him down, he turned a corner, and nearly collided with Katherine.

She stopped instantly, her skirts brushing against the wall as her sharp eyes met his. Her breath caught. One look at him and she knew—something was wrong. His face was pale, his eyes clouded, his whole posture weighed down like a man carrying chains.

"Your Highness..." she began carefully, her voice soft but full of alarm.

Ivan cut her off before her words could press further. His voice was low, almost gentle, but heavy as stone. "Lydia isn’t feeling well. Please take care of her."

He didn’t give her time to question. He turned and walked away, his back straight as if held by duty, but his steps dragging with sorrow. The echo of his boots followed him down the corridor, fading until nothing remained but silence.

Katherine’s heart clenched with worry. She gathered her skirts and hurried toward Lydia’s chamber. The golden door loomed ahead, tall and ornate, shining faintly in the torchlight. She could already hear faint cries leaking through, faint but heartbreaking.

"Your Highness!" Katherine called softly as she neared, her voice trembling slightly. She didn’t wait for permission. She opened the door and slipped inside.

The sight froze her.

Lydia was on the floor, her robe twisted around her as she curled into herself, crying hopelessly. Her whole body trembled as if even the air was too heavy to bear. The proud woman Katherine had once admired so fiercely looked so small, so fragile, so human that it nearly broke her own heart.

Katherine rushed forward, her skirts whispering across the floor, and dropped down beside her. She wrapped her arms around Lydia without hesitation. "Your Highness," she whispered, her voice soft, almost breaking. "Are you okay?"

Lydia clutched at Katherine’s arm as if it were the only thing keeping her from sinking further into despair. Her nails pressed into the fabric of her sleeve, her grip desperate. She shook her head violently, tears still streaming down her face.

"I’m not. I’m not okay. I don’t... I don’t know." Her voice cracked, spilling out in broken fragments that hardly fit together. "I... I don’t know what to do anymore, Katherine. I’m losing my mind."

Her sobs shook her thin frame harder, her face pressed against Katherine’s shoulder. Katherine held her tightly, one hand rubbing gentle circles on her back, the other resting against her trembling arm. She whispered small soothing words, words that sounded weak compared to the depth of Lydia’s pain, but she hoped her presence was enough.

"I am so confused," Lydia went on, her voice muffled by Katherine’s embrace. "I don’t know. I don’t know. Katherine..." She pulled back slightly, lifting her head. Her eyes were swollen, red, her cheeks streaked with tears. Her face was a portrait of raw pain. "I slept with him. Even after everything. I... I want to forgive him. I still love him. I miss him. I want to give in. I want to forget everything. I want to so much. What do I do, Katherine? What do I do?"

Her voice broke into desperation, the last words rising into the room like a plea to heaven itself. She gripped Katherine’s sleeves tighter, holding on as though her life depended on the answer.

"I’m scared," Lydia whispered again, softer this time, but her eyes were wide and wild, shimmering with tears. "I’m very scared. I’m so scared. That he’ll leave me again. I’m scared that he will abandon me when he finds out the truth."

Katherine caught her hands gently, squeezing them with firmness, grounding her. She looked into Lydia’s eyes, steady and serious. "The truth that... once he finds out that you... you are pregnant, Your Highness."

Lydia’s face crumpled. Her tears flowed harder, dripping down her chin, falling onto her lap and the polished floor beneath her. Her whole chest heaved with sobs as she shook her head.

"He’ll leave me. He’ll abandon me again just like before." Her voice shattered on the last word, as if it cut her throat to say it. Her body folded inward, trembling harder.

Katherine squeezed her hands tighter, but Lydia’s voice kept spilling out, raw and frightened.

"Katherine, I am scared. I don’t think I can live like that again."

She pressed her hand against her chest, as though her heart itself might break apart in her ribcage. Her tears soaked into the silk of her robe, dripping endlessly, unstoppable. Her voice grew quieter, a whisper so soft Katherine had to lean in to hear it.

"What do I do..."

The question hung in the air like smoke, fragile, breaking, desperate.