Chapter 221: Why Just Why
Morning came soft and slow. Light leaked through the curtains and spread across the room in a gentle sheet. It made everything look calm and small. The quiet of the palace at that hour felt like a thin lid over the house. Outside, the world was waking up slowly. Inside Lydia’s room, the world moved much slower and much sharper.
Lydia stirred. Her eyes opened and blinked against the light. For a wild second she did not know where she was. Her mind was empty and tired. Then she turned her head and saw him.
Ivan lay beside her. He was still sleeping. His face was relaxed in sleep, but she could see how tired he looked. The dark circles under his eyes made his face look older. His clothes were the same clothes he had worn at the trial. The sleeves were rolled up. The collar was a little wrinkled. It was as if he had run to her room the moment he returned and had not changed.
Lydia sat up quickly. Her body moved before her mind caught up. Confusion hit her first. Then anger arrived like a cold wind. How dare he sleep in her bed like this? How could he think he could do that?
She felt two things at the same time. Part of her wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin and the rise of his chest. She had wanted to feel that for a long time, in nights when pain woke her. Part of her wanted to scream. She wanted to yell at him until his ears bled. She wanted to shake him and demand answers and break something inside him.
But she did neither. She simply stared.
She watched the slow, regular motion of his breathing. He looked so small and worn as he slept. A memory came without warning. She remembered him laughing once, his face full of light. She remembered the way he had held her when they were happier, and the way that warmth had felt like a home.
Her chest tightened. The tears came, soft and sudden. She tried to stop them. She tried to tell herself that she would not cry in front of him. But one tear slipped free and rolled down her cheek.
She whispered, though she knew he might sleep through it. Her voice was low and rough. "Why did you ruin me?" she said to the air. The words tasted like iron in her mouth.
Her voice was small and full of pain. Another thought climbed up inside her and she could not stop it. "You are so confusing," she said. "You say you love me. Then you walk away. You make choices for me that break me. Why? Why do you hurt me like this?"
Her eyes blurred. She thought of the little life she had carried and lost. She thought of the nights she had sat alone in a cottage, the cold pressing into her bones. She thought of the hundred letters sent and never answered. She thought of the empty crib that had no name.
Even as she whispered the bitter words, another voice, softer and ashamed, rose in her chest. She did not say these words aloud, but she felt them like a small, dangerous flame. She still loved him. The truth of it sat smaller and sharper than a knife. It burned her with shame. Part of her wanted so badly to lean across the sheets and touch his face, to hear him breathe, to know that he was real and here.
A fat tear gave up and fell. She wiped it quickly with the back of her hand. She would not let him see.
He stirred.
She had not planned for him to wake. She had not planned any of this. Her hands moved on their own. She smoothed the blanket. She pushed away the soft hair that had fallen across her shoulder. She put on a cold face like armor.
Ivan’s eyes opened slowly. At first he was only half awake, the way people are when the world is still soft. Then his gaze focused and he saw her.
For a second his face was a map of all the things he felt. Relief flickered there first. He must have been afraid that she was gone. Then something like shame slid across his features. He looked at her as if he had been caught in a private moment he had no right to have.
He was gentle. The first thing he said was soft, the kind of voice a tired man has when he is afraid of breaking something fragile. "Are you okay, Lydia?" he asked. "I heard what happened. You collapsed. I was so worried. I had to make sure you were alright."
His voice was warm. That warmth did not soothe her. If anything, it made her more angry. How dare he come with that voice after all the nights she had been alone? How dare he speak of worry and care?
Lydia stood quickly. She wiped her face with both hands as if she could wash the feelings away. She turned to him and let the cold that lived in her bones come out in her face and voice.
"Why do you come here?" she said, sharp and raw. "What right do you have? Why do you come near me now? Why is this any of your business? Stay away."
Ivan’s brow knit a little. He did not snap. He kept his voice small and steady. "I was worried. I thought—"
"You were worried," she cut him off. "No one gave you that right. Who asked you to be the judge of my life? Who told you to decide what I should suffer? Stay away from me. Stay away now. Stay away forever. Even if I die, do not come near my corpse. Do not touch me. Do not." Her words tumbled out, louder now, the sound small and broken at the edges. She sounded like someone falling apart but trying to hide it.
Her hands shook. She clutched the sheet and felt it press cold against her palms. Behind each sentence was a pain that had lived in her for years. She had thought of him in the dark and believed he would return. She had lit candles and whispered apologies into the night. She had kept faith that he would come back. Instead he had left. He had left her to bear the worst of everything alone.
Ivan listened. He did not argue. He did not beg. He did not shout. His face closed like a tide pulling back. There was something inside him that gave up after her last sentence. Maybe he had hoped she would hit him or that she would yell something softer. Maybe he had hoped for a crack that he could step through. She had no mercy for him now.
He rose quietly. His shoulders were stiff. He left the room without another word.
Lydia watched him go. She felt the space he had left like a cold hollow. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt it in her ears. She wanted to call him back. She wanted to run and hold him and say I forgive you. But her throat closed on those words. The armor she had worn for years stayed on.
When the door shut, the room grew quiet again. The light was kinder, but the air felt empty. She sank back down on the bed. Her arms hugged her body tight. For a long time she could not breathe properly. She sat there with her hands on her knees, trying to slow her breathing, trying to keep her sanity from slipping.