Ivan sat in his chambers, by the window where he always found himself whenever his thoughts became too heavy. The sky outside had started to fade, the golden light slipping quietly into blue. It was peaceful, but not for him. His heart ached. He could not stop thinking about her. Lydia.
He had seen her return. From his window, he had watched the carriage arrive. He saw her step out slowly, her head bowed low. Even from that distance, he had noticed how she had wiped her face before she walked into the palace. But he already knew. Her eyes were red. She had been crying.
And that sight stayed with him.
He had wanted to go to her. To hold her, to ask what was wrong, to tell her he was still here. But his legs had refused to move. His pride held him like a chain. He sat still, fighting with the weight of his silence.
A soft knock came at the door.
He turned slightly. "Come in."
The door opened. It was Leonid. He looked uncertain, his hand still on the doorknob.
