Chapter 212: Deep In The Forest
Ivan rode further and further away from the palace, moving toward the woods at the outskirts of the capital. His horse’s hooves struck the ground with a heavy rhythm, each sound echoing his own racing thoughts. The noon light had been bright in the city, but as he entered the forest, the tall trees stretched their arms high, their green leaves covering the sky like a roof. The sunlight turned dimmer, scattered in patches on the ground, soft and cool.
The woods were quiet except for the rustle of branches swaying gently in the spring breeze. The smell of earth, wet from the last rain, filled the air. The further he went in, the darker it seemed, though the season outside was alive with flowers.
Ivan guided his horse along the narrow path, the same path he remembered too well. His chest grew heavier with each turn until he finally arrived at that familiar spot. The tree stood tall, thick, and old, its bark rough but steady. It was the very place Lydia had once saved his life.
He dismounted slowly. His boots pressed into the grass, soft but damp. He stood still for a long moment, staring at the tree. His hands clenched at his sides. The memory burned inside him—her frightened face, her trembling hands, her courage that had pulled him back from the edge of death.
He lowered himself to the ground and sat there, his back against the tree trunk. His head fell into his hands. He wished the earth would just swallow him.
A whisper escaped his lips, hoarse and broken. "I wish I had just died that day."
The thought had been haunting him for so long, but now it tore out of him like a wound. If she had never saved him, she would never have suffered the way she did. No pain. No broken heart. No trial. No cruel fate.
He pressed his fists into his eyes, but it did not stop the ache. His whole chest felt like it was being squeezed by something cruel and unseen. The spring wind blew softly, carrying the scent of fresh blossoms, but he did not feel its peace.
Back in Svetlana, Irina sat in her room quietly. The air was warm and gentle, a vase of fresh flowers blooming by the window. Yet her mind was elsewhere. Her heart was heavy. All she could feel was regret, guilt, and endless pain.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands clasped tightly on her lap, her eyes staring blankly at the floor. The laughter of children playing outside drifted faintly in, but it only made the silence in her chest louder.
A knock came on the door.
It was Damir. He entered softly, his face carrying concern. "Mother, are you alright?" he asked. His voice was gentle, but steady, almost like a plea.
Behind him, Anastasia peeked in as well. She said quietly, "You haven’t eaten all day."
Irina forced a faint smile, though it broke quickly. "I’m fine," she whispered.
But Damir knew her too well. He walked closer, his steps firm, and sat down beside her. He reached for her hand and held it. His voice was calm but insistent. "No, you aren’t fine, Mother. I know you. There’s something wrong." He paused, searching her face. "It must be Lydia. The trial. I too... I’m worried."
The moment he said Lydia’s name, Irina’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to blink them away, but they spilled out before she could stop them. Her shoulders shook, and her lips quivered. "Maybe I should have gone to the capital," she said, her voice breaking. "Maybe I should have been there to explain, to support her. I should have..."
Her words dissolved into sobs.
Damir immediately pulled her closer. "Mother, it’s alright. Everything will be fine. Lydia is strong. She can handle herself."
Irina pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to stop her cries, but it was useless. "I just want to fix everything," she said through her tears.
Damir frowned, worry carving deep lines on his face. "Fix everything? What do you mean? What are you talking about?"
"I only did that to protect her," Irina blurted out suddenly. The words escaped her before she could stop them.
Damir leaned in, his brows furrowed. "Protect her? What are you talking about?"
Irina quickly wiped her face, avoiding his eyes. "It’s nothing," she said. Her voice trembled.
"Please, Mother," he urged. "Don’t hide it from me. You can trust me."
"It’s nothing," she repeated, shaking her head. "It’s just... I’m scared, Damir."
Damir’s chest tightened. He wanted to push, but he saw her breaking already. He sighed and instead wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly. His voice was steady and warm. "Remember, Mother, you don’t have to suffer alone. You have me. You can tell me anything. I’m here, and I won’t leave you."
Irina hugged him back, her hands trembling against his back. But her mind was not in that moment. It was far away—in the past, three years ago.
She remembered Lydia asleep, her cheeks wet with dried tears. Irina had sat by her side, brushing her hair gently, patting her softly, whispering words no one else could hear. "I’m so sorry, my dear. I had to say this to protect you from yourself. Please... don’t forgive me."
Her heart had broken that night. Every word she had spoken had cut her inside, but she had told herself it was the only way.
She had walked out of that room, her own eyes red, only to see Ivan crouched on the floor outside. He looked like a man who had just lost everything. His shoulders shook as he leaned against the wall, his face pale and torn apart.
She had been startled. "Your Highness," she whispered. "How long have you been here?"
His voice was low, soft, broken. "Why did you tell her that?"
Irina froze.
"I never abandoned her," he said, his voice trembling. "I didn’t even know about the baby until this morning. So how...?"
Irina’s lips shook. "I’m sorry, Your Highness. But I had no choice. You don’t understand how she feels. You don’t know what it’s like for a mother to lose her child."
Ivan’s eyes burned with unshed tears. His jaw tightened. "And by making her believe I abandoned her? That’s how you protect her? But I never did. Never."
Irina’s chest ached. "But you divorced her. If you hadn’t, none of this would have happened."
Ivan’s hands clenched. His whole body trembled. "I only... I only did that to protect her."
"Then do this to protect her too, please, Your Highness," Irina said, her own voice breaking. "If she blames it on you, she’ll live. She won’t blame herself. She’ll hate you, and in hating you, she’ll survive. But if not—she’ll turn the pain on herself, for the rest of her life." Her tears spilled as she shook her head. "I know because I suffered the same. I know how much pain it is for a mother to lose a child. I couldn’t let her face that."
Ivan stared at her, his chest heaving. "You ask me to let her hate me... when all I’ve ever wanted was to protect her?"
Irina clasped her hands, her voice breaking apart. "Please, Your Highness. Please protect her in the only way left."
But even as she said it, doubt was already piercing her.
Later, she had sat in her room, her hands covering her face. She whispered to herself, "I was wrong. I only hurt her more and more."
And now, Ivan sat still in the woods, staring at the ground. The spring breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of blossoms around him. He closed his eyes, his heart burning with confusion.
"Did I protect her... or did I destroy her?" he whispered.
And no answer came. Only the quiet rustle of the forest, and the memory of her tears.