Chapter 253: Teatime And Desperation PT2

The glass hall was bright, almost too bright for the kind of words being spoken inside it.

Sunlight poured through the tall glass walls, falling softly on the long table where the noble ladies sat. Outside, the royal garden was full of blooming flowers, but inside the air felt heavier with every passing minute.

At first, the talk was light.

Soft laughter. Gentle clinking of cups. Fans moving slowly as women leaned closer to one another.

But then the topic changed.

Someone mentioned the grand duchess and the grand duke.

And just like that, the room shifted.

A quiet sadness filled their voices as they spoke about them, like they were talking about something lost and beautiful.

"They were perfect once," one lady said softly, almost like she was remembering a dream. "It was painful to watch them separate."

Another sighed. "They were each other’s first love. You could see it even from afar."

The words were gentle, but they carried weight.

Tatiana sat among them.

She did not speak. She only listened.

Her fingers rested lightly on her teacup, but the cup was no longer warm. Her face stayed calm, too calm. But her eyes were not.

They were dark. Quiet. Controlled.

She kept telling herself not to react.

Not to show anything.

Not here.

But the room did not let her stay untouched for long.

A lady across from her suddenly looked at her, her gaze sharp and unkind.

"It was all beautiful before she came in," the woman said.

The words landed like a slap.

The room went slightly still, but no one stopped her.

"She was taken in after her husband’s death," the lady continued. "And yet everything changed after that."

Tatiana’s grip on the cup tightened slightly.

But she still said nothing.

She told herself to breathe.

To ignore it.

To stay quiet.

But then another voice joined in.

Lighter. Almost playful. But cruel in a different way.

"No matter what happens," one of them said with a soft laugh, "the grand duke still loves the grand duchess."

That was when the air changed completely.

A few women leaned closer, excited by the gossip now.

"It is not even a rumor anymore," another added. "He looks at her like he is still lost in her. At every ball, he cannot hide it."

Tatiana’s fingers stopped moving.

"She was his first," someone said, lowering her voice slightly, as if sharing a secret. "A man never forgets the first woman he has ever been with."

There was a soft giggle after that.

Not loud.

Not obvious.

But sharp enough to cut.

And then more whispers followed.

Deliberate.

Careful.

Each word chosen like a small wound meant only for her.

Tatiana’s chest rose slowly.

Her breathing became uneven, but she still did not move.

She kept sitting there.

Still.

Silent.

Trying.

Trying so hard.

But inside her, something was breaking.

A voice in her head screamed louder with every passing second.

Until she could not take it anymore.

Suddenly, her chair moved back with a harsh scrape against the floor.

The sound cut through the room like a blade.

Every head turned.

Every laugh died.

Every fan stopped moving.

Tatiana stood up so fast that the silence that followed felt heavier than all the words before it.

Her eyes were cold now. Not soft. Not emotional.

Cold in a way that made people uncomfortable.

Without a word, she turned and walked out.

Her steps were sharp.

Fast.

Almost angry.

No one stopped her.

No one dared.

Behind her, whispers began again, but she did not hear them anymore.

She only heard her own heartbeat.

Loud.

Painful.

She walked through the hallways until she reached the garden entrance.

And there she stopped.

Because she saw them.

Ivan and Lydia.

Together.

Just standing there.

Close enough to feel like something she could never reach.

Even from a distance, Tatiana could see it clearly.

Ivan’s eyes were on Lydia.

Soft.

There was something in his gaze that made Tatiana’s chest tighten painfully.

Lydia stood before him, her posture steady but fragile at the same time. The wind moved gently through her hair, and for a moment, she looked almost unreal.

Like someone who did not belong to the same world as everyone else.

Tatiana’s lips parted slightly.

But no sound came out.

Her throat felt dry.

Her chest burned.

And then, slowly, tears gathered in her eyes.

Not falling yet.

Just waiting.

Shaking.

Her voice came out as a whisper, broken and low.

"I have to get rid of her..."

She swallowed hard.

"If it is the last thing I do."

And she stood there longer than she should have, watching them.

Like something inside her was slowly turning into something darker.

---

Lydia’s body trembled slightly.

She could feel it before she even opened her eyes properly.

Warm hands.

Firm, but careful.

Holding her gently as she leaned forward, trying to steady herself.

Someone was behind her.

Supporting her.

She knew who it was without turning.

Ivan.

His voice came next.

Soft.

Careful.

"Are you alright, Lydia?"

There was fear in it.

Real fear.

The kind he could not hide no matter how much he tried.

Lydia opened her eyes slowly.

The world still felt a little unstable.

Her breath was uneven.

Her chest tight.

Ivan’s hands stayed on her back, but they were trembling slightly.

He was scared.

She could see it clearly now.

His eyes did not look away from her.

Not even for a second.

"Lydia," he said again, softer this time. "Are you sure you are okay?"

Something inside her snapped at that moment.

Not loudly.

Not suddenly.

Just quietly.

Like something breaking under pressure.

She moved.

Quickly.

Coldly.

She pushed his hand away from her body.

"Don’t touch me," she said.

Her voice was sharp.

Empty.

But her body betrayed her.

It was still shaking.

Ivan froze instantly.

His hand stopped midair.

Like he did not know where to put it anymore.

He looked at her.

Not angry.

Not offended.

Just lost.

"Lydia," he said again, softer. "I am only asking if you are alright."

She wiped her mouth with her handkerchief, trying to steady herself.

Trying to become that cold version of herself again.

"I am fine," she said flatly. "It is none of your business."

Ivan hesitated.

Then spoke again.

"When we travelled to the capital, you were sick too. You threw up during the journey. And now again."

Her heart dropped.

For a second, everything inside her stopped.

Her fingers tightened around the cloth.

Her breathing became shallow.

No.

No.

Did he know?

Did he find out?

Her mind spiraled instantly.

Fear rose fast inside her chest.

Too fast.

Her lips trembled before she could stop them.

Ivan watched her carefully.

Then said gently.

"Are you perhaps sick? You do not look well. Maybe you should see a doctor."

Silence.

That one sentence saved her.

Her shoulders loosened slightly.

Her breath came back.

Relief washed over her so quickly it almost made her weak.

But she did not show it.

She could not.

Instead, she lifted her chin.

Cold again.

Controlled again.

"I just ate too much dessert," she said. "The carriage ride was also too fast. That is all."

She paused.

Then added quietly, almost like it meant nothing.

"I am fine. I do not need your concern."

Her eyes did not meet his.

"I do not think you care anyway."

Then she turned.

And walked away.

Fast.

Before anything else could be said.

Before she could break again.

Ivan stood there.

Watching her leave.

Helpless.

His hand slowly dropped back to his side.

A quiet breath left him.

Not relief.

Not happiness.

Just something soft and tired.

"At least she is okay," he whispered to himself.

Lydia walked until she was out of sight.

Until no one could see her anymore.

Only then did she stop.

Her body pressed against the cold corridor wall.

And everything she had been holding inside her came crashing down.

Her breath shook.

Her hands trembled.

Tears gathered in her eyes again, but she fought them hard.

She would not let them fall.

Not here.

Not now.

Her voice came out low.

Angry.

Broken.

"How dare you worry about me..."

She closed her eyes tightly.

"You left me."

Her fingers pressed against the wall.

Hard.

"How dare you look at me like that," she whispered. "Like you did not abandon me."

Her chest rose and fell quickly.

Her lips trembled.

But she still held it in.

"No matter what," she said softly, almost like a promise to herself, "you must be strong."

Her hand moved slowly to her stomach.

A protective touch.

Gentle.

Possessive.

"I will do everything to protect you," she whispered.

"Everything."

A tear almost fell.

But she wiped it away quickly.

Like it was something dangerous.

Her face changed slowly after that.

The softness disappeared.

Coldness returned.

She straightened herself.

Fixed her expression.

And began walking back.

The glass hall was still the same when she returned.

Laughter.

Tea.

Gossip.

Nothing had changed.

Lydia stepped back into her seat with perfect calm.

Like nothing had happened.

Like she had never broken at all.

Her voice was steady when she spoke.

"I am sorry, ladies," she said softly. "I had to refresh myself."

A gentle smile touched her lips.

"Now... where were we?"

But inside her chest, something was very different.

Something no one in that room could see.

Something that would not let her be the same again.

And as the women continued talking, laughing, pretending everything was normal...

Lydia sat there quietly.

Smiling.

Listening.

While inside her heart, she made a silent promise.

She would never be powerless again.

Never.