Chapter 181: Chapter 181

The palace was quiet that night. Everyone was asleep. Everyone except Lydia.

She lay in her bed staring at the ceiling. Her pillow was wet from her tears, but she could not stop. No matter how much she tried, the tears kept falling.

Her chest felt heavy. Her eyes hurt. Her heart would not calm down. Over and over, she kept hearing his voice from earlier that night.

"I cannot abandon my child."

Those words cut through her like a knife. They broke her. They tore her into pieces because, to her, they only meant one thing.

He did not care about her. He never had.

Her son... their son... had died because he abandoned them. And yet here he was, saying he could not abandon another child.

Lydia pressed her hand against her mouth to stop her sobs, but it was useless. Her tears streamed endlessly.

"You need to stop this, Lydia. You need to stop this," she whispered to herself in a broken voice. "You need to stop getting affected by him. You already know. You already know... he doesn’t love you. He never did. He just used you."

She wiped her face roughly, trying to convince herself.

"You’ve moved on. You don’t love him anymore."

But if she didn’t love him anymore, then why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like her chest was being crushed? Why did she feel as if she was breaking apart?

Her breath shook as she turned to her side. She tried to close her eyes. She told herself she needed sleep. That tomorrow she would be stronger. That tomorrow she would no longer cry for him.

But her heart refused to listen.

What Lydia did not know was that, just outside her door, Ivan sat on the floor.

He was leaning against the wall, silent, his face buried in his hands. He had walked there after leaving his study, unable to stop himself. He wanted to see her. He wanted to knock on her door. To step inside. To speak. To tell her something—anything.

But his hand had frozen when he reached for the door.

He stood there for a long time, not knowing if he even deserved to see her. So instead, he sat. He lowered himself to the ground and stayed there in silence.

His mind kept replaying the same memory.

Lydia, kneeling by the grave of their son. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ nοvelfire.net

Her body shaking as she sobbed, her hands clutching the soil, her cries filling the air. She was in pain, in despair. And he had stood there, watching from a distance. Watching when it was so clear that she needed him.

He had not gone to her. He had not held her. He had not wiped her tears. He had just... watched.

Even now, that image was burning him alive. His heart felt hollow, as though it was bleeding inside his chest.

And still, he did nothing. He stayed at her door like a coward. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. Somewhere between his guilt and his grief, he fell asleep.

The sun began to rise. Its soft golden light slowly filled the palace corridors.

Katherine was walking down the hallway, carrying a small bundle of linens, when she stopped. She had seen something unexpected.

Just by Lydia’s door, Ivan was there. Asleep. His tall frame leaned against the wall, his head dropped slightly to the side.

Katherine’s heart ached at the sight. His face looked so tired. His brows were furrowed even in sleep, as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

She stepped closer, hesitant at first, then bent down slightly.

"Your highness," she whispered, placing a hand gently on his arm.

Ivan stirred and opened his eyes. For a moment he looked disoriented. Then he quickly straightened up, standing tall as though embarrassed to be caught in such a state.

Katherine looked at him softly.

"If you wish to see her," she said in a quiet voice, "why not go in? Maybe if you talk to her... maybe. Maybe you two can fix things."

Ivan’s eyes lowered. His voice came out low and tired.

"I can never fix what I did to her."

Katherine wanted to say more, but before she could, he added, almost like a plea, "Please... don’t tell her. Don’t tell her that I was here."

Her chest tightened at his words. She could see how broken he looked, how lost. He was a man torn apart, and yet he was still holding everything inside.

She nodded softly. "Yes, your highness."

Ivan’s gaze turned away. "Is the renovation of her room complete?"

"Yes," Katherine replied. "She will move back today."

"Very well," he said quietly. Without another word, he walked away, his steps heavy, his back tense.

Katherine watched him disappear into the corridor. Her heart sank. She wanted to call after him. She wanted to tell him that maybe there was still a chance. That maybe Lydia still cared. But she stayed silent.

She sighed softly and turned back to Lydia’s door. She opened it carefully and slipped inside.

Lydia was still asleep. Her face was turned slightly to the side, her hair scattered across the pillow. Even in sleep, Katherine could see the faint redness around her eyes, proof of how much she had cried.

"Poor thing," Katherine whispered as she walked closer.

She gently adjusted the blanket over Lydia’s body, tucking it around her shoulders. Her heart ached for her. Both of them—Lydia and Ivan—were drowning in pain, yet neither knew how to reach the other.

But as she touched Lydia’s hand, she froze.

Her skin felt too hot.

Katherine frowned and touched Lydia’s forehead. She gasped softly.

Her calm face twisted into worry. Lydia’s breathing was uneven, her cheeks flushed with heat.

Katherine pressed her palm to her again, just to be sure, but there was no doubt. Lydia had a fever.