Xo_Xie

Chapter 216: The Truth That Can’t Be Said

Chapter 216: The Truth That Can’t Be Said


The forest had grown colder with the coming night. The air was damp, carrying a sharp chill that cut through Ivan’s clothes and sank into his bones. He did not move. He was still seated at the base of the tree, his back resting heavily against the rough bark. The world around him was silent except for the faint sound of crickets and the rustle of branches when the wind passed through. The darkness was pressing in. It covered everything, leaving only the pale shimmer of the moon between the leaves above him.


Yet Ivan did not look at the sky. His eyes were fixed on nothing. He had no strength to lift his head. He only sat there, heavy and tired, as if his whole body was sinking into the earth. His heart was burning, but at the same time, he felt empty.


Part of him wished that the ground would open and swallow him whole. If the earth swallowed him now, maybe it would finally be peace. No more guilt, no more shame, no more memories of Lydia’s eyes, red from crying. No more of the pain he carried every time he saw her broken because of him.


But his mind betrayed him, as it always did. Even while he wished for an end, her face came back to him. He could imagine her now. He could see her clearly, sitting alone in her room. Her cheeks wet. Her body shaking. Maybe she had cried so much that her head hurt. Maybe she had finally cried herself into sleep.


He hated himself for the thought. The more he pictured her crying, the more he hated himself. The more he wished he could vanish.


And yet... and yet, another part of him wanted to get up. To move. To return. To see her again. To check if she was still awake. To know if she was fine. Even if she pushed him away, even if she cursed him, he still wanted to see her with his own eyes.


His hands curled into fists, pressing against the ground. His breath came sharp, almost ragged. He stayed like this for a while, torn between wanting to disappear forever and wanting to go back to her. Finally, with effort, he lifted his head. His eyes found his horse. The poor animal was shifting nervously, neighing low as the forest grew darker. Its ears flicked at the strange sounds of the night.


Ivan forced himself up to his feet. His legs were stiff from sitting too long, but he did not care. He dragged himself toward the horse. His hand reached for the reins, calming the animal as best he could. His voice was low, almost broken, but he still whispered, "Let’s go back."


He mounted his horse, his movements heavy, almost sluggish. He held the reins and pulled gently, guiding the horse out of the forest. He did not look back. The shadows of the trees swallowed the place where he had been sitting. He rode in silence, his heart still heavy as stone. His thoughts crashed against him like waves that refused to rest. Even on horseback, even when the wind brushed against him, he felt no relief. He only felt more suffocation, as if the more he moved, the more he drowned.


The city lights appeared far away, faint in the night, and he headed toward them.


Inside the palace, Lydia sat stiffly in her room. She was seated on the edge of her bed, her posture tense, her back straight, but her body was trembling inside. The only thing in her room was darkness. The lamps were not lit. The curtains were drawn. The air inside was heavy, as if the darkness itself had weight.


Her mind was just like the room. Dark. Empty. Cold.


Her eyes kept returning to the door. She kept staring at it as though waiting. As though hoping. She tried to stop herself, but she could not. Every sound from the corridor, every faint echo, made her heart jump. But each time nothing happened, she felt her chest sink deeper.


Despite her pain, despite her pride, she could only think of Ivan. Even after everything, he was still the first thought in her heart. She told herself he would not come. She told herself she should not expect him. And yet she kept waiting, silently, foolishly.


Tears threatened to fill her eyes again. But she fought them. She forced them back, refusing to let them fall. She sat stiff, her hands clenched tightly on her lap, her jaw tight, her lips pressed together. Her chest burned, but she refused to give in to the tears. She whispered to herself in her heart, Don’t cry. Don’t cry.


Then she saw it. A soft light reflected faintly beneath the door. It flickered and moved, like someone holding a lamp. Her heart skipped. She froze in her place. For one wild moment, she thought—maybe it was him. Maybe he had come.


Her breath caught in her throat. She waited, staring at the door.


Then a knock came. Soft. Gentle.


Her chest tightened painfully.


But before she could hope, she heard a voice. "Your highness. It’s me."


Her heart fell. She sighed, her shoulders sinking.


It was Katherine.


Lydia lowered her eyes and forced her voice to sound cold. "Come in."


The door opened. Katherine entered with a lamp in her hand. She moved quietly, almost carefully, as though she was afraid of breaking something fragile. She began lighting the lamps around the room one by one. The warm glow spread slowly across the walls, pushing back the darkness. The shadows faded, and the room grew bright again.


Lydia sat still, her voice soft but steady. "Thank you."


When the room was filled with light, Katherine put down the lamp she carried and walked closer. She sat near Lydia, her expression full of worry. She spoke gently, her tone filled with guilt.


"I am sorry, your highness," she said. "Because of me today. I was not careful. I should have been."


Lydia turned her face slightly toward her. Her voice was calm, though her eyes were tired. "It’s not your fault. I’m also at fault. I should be careful too."


Katherine shook her head quickly. "No, your highness. Please don’t say that. It was me. I spoke when I should not have." Her voice lowered. "About what I said earlier... I am sorry too. It wasn’t my place to speak."


She hesitated, but then her eyes grew firm, even though her tone stayed soft. "But still, your highness, I stand on what I said. You can’t keep your condition a secret forever. It will only hurt you more."


For a moment, silence filled the room. Lydia did not answer. She lowered her gaze to her hands, her chest heavy. Her lips trembled slightly, but she did not let words come out. She only sat there, her heart twisting painfully inside her.


Finally, she spoke, but her voice was faint, almost a whisper. "I’m tired, Katherine. I wish to rest."


Katherine’s eyes softened. She bowed her head respectfully. "Goodnight, your highness."


She rose quietly and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.


Lydia was left alone once again.


And this time, she could not stop herself. The tears came. Slowly at first, then faster. They fell from her eyes in streams, rolling down her cheeks, dropping onto her hands. She did not bother to wipe them away. She let them fall, because she was too weak to fight them anymore.


Her voice broke as she whispered to herself, "I can’t tell him."


Her chest heaved as sobs shook her body. She tried to cover her mouth with her hand, tried to silence herself, but the pain was too heavy. Her heart was too broken.


The tears kept falling. They fell and fell, soaking her cheeks, soaking her pillow as she lay down.


She closed her eyes, whispering words she could not even hear, only cries of pain and despair. She told herself to stop crying, but her body did not listen.


And so she cried, until exhaustion claimed her. Until her body grew weak. Until her eyes closed on their own.


At last, Lydia fell asleep, still with tears on her cheeks.