Chapter 283: Something Undeserving

Ivan rode his horse for hours.

He had no destination in mind.

He only knew that he needed to get away from the palace.

He needed to breathe.

Everything inside him felt too crowded. His thoughts were moving too quickly, and no matter how hard he tried to clear his mind, Lydia’s face kept appearing before him.

So he rode.

He passed the palace gates and continued farther away from Svetlana.

The wind hit his face as the horse carried him across the quiet roads.

He did not know how long he had been riding.

He only stopped when darkness had finally covered the earth.

Ivan looked around.

He had somehow reached the outskirts of Svetlana.

There were fewer houses here, and the roads were quiet. Most people had already gone home for the night.

Ivan slowly got down from his horse.

His body felt tired.

He tied the horse to a nearby pole and noticed a wooden bench a few steps away.

He walked toward it and sat down.

For the first time since leaving the palace, he allowed himself to sit still.

He lowered his head.

He needed to stop thinking.

But the moment he closed his eyes, Lydia came back to his mind.

Her tears.

Her voice.

Ivan opened his eyes.

He had left her again.

Not forever.

Not because he wanted to abandon her.

But he had still left.

Barely twenty-four hours after the incident. Twenty-four hours since she was in danger and because of him. And yet, he had ridden away from the palace.

Ivan rubbed his face.

"Perhaps this was a bad decision."

He had been suffocating.

He had needed space to think.

But that did not mean leaving was the right thing to do.

He had already made Boris promise to protect Lydia.

He had ordered extra guards around her.

He had done everything he could to make sure she was safe.

Still, none of that changed the fact that he was not there.

What if she needed him?

What if something happened again?

It would be all his fault.

Ivan stood.

"I should go back."

He walked toward his horse.

He had barely reached it when a familiar voice came from behind him.

"Are you leaving so soon?"

Ivan froze.

"You didn’t even bother to say hello to me."

He slowly turned around.

An elderly woman stood a short distance away.

She had a warm smile on her face.

Ivan recognized her immediately.

"Klara."

Klara Mikhailovna smiled.

"It’s been a while, Your Highness."

She walked closer.

"I’ve missed your visits."

Ivan looked at her for a moment.

He had not expected to see her.

Klara was already in her sixties, but there was still something lively about her. She had always been warm with him, even when he was a young man who rarely spoke.

Her eyes moved over him.

Then her smile faded slightly.

"You look tired."

Ivan said nothing.

"And hungry."

"I’m fine."

Klara gave him a look.

"That is what people say when they are neither fine nor well fed."

Ivan almost smiled.

Almost.

Klara pointed toward her cottage.

"Come with me."

"I should return to the palace."

"You can return after you eat."

Ivan hesitated.

Klara continued.

"I made more than enough duck soup. Unless you have suddenly decided you are too important to eat food made by an old woman."

Ivan sighed.

"I never said that."

"Good."

She smiled.

"Then come."

Ivan followed her.

---

Klara’s cottage was warm and comfortable.

The moment Ivan stepped inside, the cold night seemed to disappear.

A small fire burned in the fireplace.

The smell of food filled the room.

Klara moved toward the table while Ivan removed his coat.

"You can help me set the table."

Ivan looked at her.

"You haven’t changed."

"Neither have you."

She handed him a few plates.

Ivan took them without arguing.

He helped set the table while Klara brought the food from the kitchen.

Soon, a bowl of hot duck soup was placed in front of him.

Klara sat opposite him.

"Eat."

Ivan picked up his spoon.

He took the first bite.

The food was warm, and he realized how hungry he actually was.

Klara watched him for a moment before smiling.

"There. You look slightly less dead."

Ivan looked at her.

"I wasn’t dead."

"Your face disagrees."

He shook his head.

Klara laughed softly.

They continued eating for a while.

The silence between them was comfortable.

It was one of the things Ivan had always liked about visiting Klara.

She did not force him to speak.

She allowed him to sit quietly when he wanted to.

After some time, she finally spoke.

"It’s been almost three months since you last came to visit me."

Ivan looked at her.

"I’ve been busy."

"I know."

Klara took another spoonful of soup.

"But I was beginning to worry."

"There is no need to worry."

Klara smiled.

"Is that because of her?"

Ivan’s hand stopped.

He looked at her.

"What do you mean?"

Klara gave him an innocent expression.

"I may live on the outskirts of Svetlana, but I do hear things."

Ivan remained silent.

"There are plenty of people who come here. They talk."

She smiled.

"And people in Svetlana seem to have very little else to do besides gossip."

Ivan lowered his gaze.

"So I know your wife came back."

Klara’s smile grew.

"Which explains why you no longer visit me."

Ivan did not respond.

Klara laughed.

"I’m not offended."

She waved her hand.

"Actually, I’m glad."

Ivan finally looked at her.

"Glad?"

"Of course."

Klara leaned back.

"When my husband was alive, he used to fawn over me all the time."

She smiled at the memory.

"I suppose it is only fair that you do the same with your wife."

Ivan said nothing.

Klara’s smile slowly disappeared.

She had expected him to react to her joke.

He didn’t.

Instead, he continued staring down at his food.

Klara studied him carefully.

Something was wrong.

She put her spoon down.

"Why did you come here?"

Ivan looked up.

"Nothing happened."

Klara shook her head.

"Don’t lie to me."

He remained silent.

She waited.

Then she asked gently,

"Why aren’t you with her?"

Ivan’s fingers tightened around the spoon.

For a few seconds, he said nothing.

Then he quietly answered,

"I don’t deserve to be with her."

Klara stared at him.

"Not anymore."

His voice was low.

"She has suffered so much."

He looked down.

"Because of me."

Klara listened.

Ivan swallowed.

"I can’t continue hurting her."

"You think leaving her will stop the pain?"

Ivan looked at her.

"Maybe."

His eyes were filled with sadness.

"Maybe it’s better to let go."

He looked toward the small fire.

"Maybe she will find happiness without me."

Klara remained quiet.

Ivan continued before she could answer.

"She deserves someone better."

"Someone who didn’t abandon her."

His voice became quieter.

"Someone who won’t make her suffer."

Klara looked at him sadly.

"And what about you?"

Ivan frowned.

"What about me?"

"Don’t you deserve happiness too?"

Ivan gave a bitter smile.

"How can I deserve happiness?"

Klara said nothing.

"My existence has caused pain to too many people."

He lowered his head.

"I don’t deserve to be happy."

His voice broke slightly.

"I don’t deserve her."

Klara stared at him.

She had known Ivan for many years.

She had seen him as a young boy.

She had watched him grow into the man sitting in front of her now.

But she had never seen him speak about himself like this.

He looked exhausted.

Not because of the journey.

Not because he had been riding for hours.

He looked tired of himself.

Klara slowly reached for her cup.

She did not know what to say.

Ivan continued eating quietly.

The room became silent again.

Only the sound of the fire filled the cottage.

Klara watched him.

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong.

She wanted to tell him that he deserved to be loved.

But she knew that words would not be enough.

Not tonight.

Ivan had already convinced himself that loving Lydia meant letting her go.

And that was the part that hurt the most.

He believed that walking away from the woman he loved was the only way to give her a better life.

Klara lowered her eyes.

She did not know how to make him see that sometimes, staying and facing the pain could be harder, but it could also be the thing that saved what was left.

For now, she simply sat across from him.

And Ivan continued eating in silence, carrying the weight of a love he believed he had no right to keep.