Chapter 105: Chapter 105

Ivan was still seated on the bench in the outskirts of Svetlana in the snow as the sun was disappearing. The air was cold and quiet. His hands were tucked under his arms, and his coat did very little to keep the chill away. Snow had started to settle on his shoulders and hair like dust. Then someone walked up to him and gently put a warm blanket over him.

It was a kind woman in her sixties. Her hands were wrinkled, and her voice was soft. She dusted the snow from his head, her touch gentle and motherly.

"You must be cold," she said with care. "You’ve been sitting here for a while." She pointed to a small cottage a few meters away, smoke rising from the chimney. "How about you come into my house for a while?"

He said nothing. He was still shocked by her gesture. No one had been kind to him in a long time. Not . Not like a human being.

She insisted, shaking her head. "It’s very cold and it isn’t good for me joints. Are you coming or not?"

For some reason, he followed her. She was soft-spoken and kind. There was something comforting about her voice, like the hum of an old lullaby.

Both of them walked to the cottage in silence. Their feet crunched through the snow. When they entered, warmth greeted them. The cottage was small but cozy. The fireplace crackled softly in one corner. There were simple wooden chairs, a knitted rug, and shelves filled with little things that showed a life well-lived.

The woman told him to sit on the seat by the fireplace and keep warm. Then she left for a while.

Ivan sat quietly. His mind was barely there. Everything felt like a blur. His heart was heavy and cold, much like the winter outside. He didn’t even know how long he had been sitting in the snow. Hours maybe. Or maybe it had just felt that way. All he knew was that he had given up, even if his body was still breathing.

He stared into the flames as they danced inside the hearth. Something about the crackling fire reminded him of childhood—of sitting near his mother’s lap while she hummed softly and braided his hair, telling him bedtime stories about good kings and brave warriors. He had long stopped believing in stories like that.

The woman returned holding a tray of hot food. She placed it gently in front of him.

"You must be very hungry," she said, smiling gently. "You look like you haven’t eaten for a whole week," she teased.

But she was right. He was starving. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he saw the food. He looked at the tray. Then something struck him. Maybe she didn’t know who he was. Maybe she thought he was just a regular nobleman. That was probably why she was being kind.

But when he looked down at the food, he froze.

It was dumplings and soup. A traditional dish. The kind his mother used to make.

His hands trembled slightly as he picked up the spoon. He tasted the soup. He said nothing. He just let the taste settle in his mouth. A memory from the past, warm and painful.

And suddenly, everything cracked.

He put the spoon down slowly and turned away, biting down on his bottom lip. His shoulders shook. It was too much. The soup, the kindness, the fire, the warmth. It was all too much.

"I don’t deserve this," he whispered, more to himself than to her.

The old woman watched him. "What is it? Is the food not to your liking, Your Highness?"

Ivan paused. Her words hit him.

"No, that’s not it," he said softly. "It’s just... I haven’t eaten this in a long time. This was my mother’s favourite dish. It even tastes similar to hers. I like it."

The woman smiled kindly. "I’m happy you do."

He was about to take another bite until it hit him fully. She had called him ’Your Highness.’

That meant she knew who he was.

And yet she still fed him. She still welcomed him. She still looked at him with soft eyes and not fear.

His voice broke. "Why are you being kind to me?"

Back at the palace, Vladimir stood by the hallway. He watched as the night was covering the sky, but his mind was not in the present. He was lost in time. Lost in a memory from twenty-five years ago.

He stood there quietly. Then he turned at the sound of footsteps.

She was calm on the outside, but her eyes told a different story. She looked confused, scared, and alone. Like she had something to say but didn’t know how to say it. Her fingers twisted her dress nervously.

She spoke in a low tone. "You called for me, Your Highness?"

He looked at her sadly. "I’m really sorry," he said.

Then he reached out for her. "I didn’t mean for this to happen."

She gently moved back, tears in her eyes, away from his touch.

"It’s okay," she said. "It’s not your fault. That’s just the way things are."

But he still reached out, cupping her face with his hand.

"I’ll look for a way for us to be together."

She shook her head, voice breaking. "You know we can’t."

"Yes, Marina. We can."

"I plan to divorce her at the end of the month," he said.

He continued, his voice firm but full of longing. "Once the divorce is finalised, two of us can be together. Just like we always wanted."

He wiped the tears from her face.

Marina said softly, "Then what happens to her? She’ll be disgraced and abandoned."

He looked away. "I don’t have any choice. I never wanted this marriage. This marriage was forced on both of us. So I am basically freeing both of us from the burden. You don’t have to worry," he added, turning to the window. "I’ll compensate her."

Her voice wavered. "That’s not enough."

Tears rolled down Marina’s cheeks. She said softly, "Then what happens to me?"

Vladimir turned back, looking at her. "What do you mean?"

She said, "I have known her all my life. She’s my friend."

He tried to speak. "I know."

But she continued. Her voice was heavy now, shaking slightly. "When my family lost everything, it was her family who supported mine. She’s not just anyone. She’s like a sister to me. So you want me to hurt her in the most cruel way possible?"

He looked at her desperately. "No. I just... I just want us to be together. I know it hurts you too that we’re apart. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me but say nothing. I feel it in the way you hold back your tears. Marina... this pain, it’s eating us both."

She closed her eyes and whispered, "But if I do so, I’ll hurt her. I can’t hurt her. I can’t be that selfish."

"It’s the only way," he said, his voice cracking. "We’ve tried everything else."

She stared at him. "So you want me to destroy my own friend?"

"I’m sorry, but I can’t." Her voice was firmer now. "I won’t."

He stepped forward, desperate. "Then what? You want to live forever? Pretending we’re nothing? Smiling through every dinner while dying inside?"

Marina’s lips trembled, but she said nothing. Her silence was loud.

He lowered his tone. "I’m really sorry. But that’s the only thing I can do."

He hugged Marina tightly. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t hold him back either. Her arms just hung at her sides. She sobbed softly in his arms.

He stopped hugging her and looked at her. "I have some matters to take care of in the capital. I will be away for two weeks. Don’t worry. When I return, everything will be okay."

He hugged her tightly again.

But when he returned in two weeks, she was gone.

She was nowhere to be found. She had disappeared without a trace.

Now in the present, he stood in the same spot.

He said, "Things would have been better if you were a little selfish, Marina."

And his voice cracked.

Back at the cottage, Ivan asked, "You know who I am, don’t you?"

He asked, "How did you know?"

She said, "You look like your mother."

He asked, "You knew my mother?"

She nodded. "Everyone knew your mother."

"So why did you let me in knowing who I am?"

"I let you in because I saw a young man freezing to death just by my house."

Ivan asked, "Aren’t you scared of me?"

She said, "Because I know the stories about you being the devil or a monster or whatever are just rumours. I don’t believe any of them."

He asked, "Why don’t you believe them?"

She said, "If you are the devil, then your mother was a shameful woman who seduced her friend’s husband."

She said, "I knew your mother personally. That’s why I know for a fact that Your Highness, you are not a monster. Just as your mother isn’t a horrible woman. People love to spread rumours about things they don’t understand. Your mother was a good woman. She was a kind soul. She never hurt a fly. The fact that she’s remembered as something so vile breaks my heart."

Ivan’s eyes were glassy. He couldn’t hold back his tears. This was the first time anyone had ever said good things about his late mother. For years they’ve always called her vile names. Even if he knew they weren’t true, a part of him always wanted to hear someone else say that his mother was innocent and wasn’t that way.

He covered his face with both hands, and let the sobs escape his throat. He cried like a boy who had just lost everything. Not a prince. Not a soldier. Just a son who missed his mother.

The woman hugged him tight, saying, "Don’t cry, child."

Then saying, "I’m sorry for not finding you sooner."