The morning sun rose quietly, casting a soft glow over the road. The sky was clear and calm. The wind was gentle. It was the kind of morning that felt peaceful, but there was nothing peaceful in the carriage that carried Ivan and Lydia.
The journey had continued just as it had ended the night before. Silent. Heavy. Unchanging.
Lydia was still reading her book, the same way she had the day before. Her hands moved softly as she flipped the pages. She looked calm on the outside, almost too calm. Not once did she lift her eyes from the book. Not even when the birds chirped. Not even when the horses neighed.
Ivan sat across from her. Still. Still and broken. He couldn’t stop looking at her. He tried. He really did. He knew he didn’t deserve to look at her. But he couldn’t stop. Her presence was the only thing that felt real to him now.
He watched the way her lashes fluttered every time she blinked. The way her lips gently parted when she read something interesting. The way she reached for a scone and bit into it while still reading. It was the smallest things. The simplest things. Yet they pierced through him like a thousand knives.
He was in love with her. Still. Deeply. Terribly. And he had destroyed the only person who ever truly loved him back.
Hours passed this way. Nothing but the sound of horses and pages turning.
Then suddenly, the carriage jerked slightly. It stopped.
Lydia shifted forward and almost lost her balance. Ivan quickly reached out and caught her. His hand gently held her arm, steadying her.
She didn’t say thank you. She didn’t even look at him. She pulled away quickly, her face still unreadable. Like nothing had happened.
The coachman called out, "Your Highnesses, we have arrived."
Lydia looked out of the window. Her face did not soften. In fact, her lips tightened. Her eyes scanned the city outside.
It was different now. The flowers were blooming. The trees were alive. Everything was green and beautiful.
When she came here three years ago, it had been autumn. Cold. Bare. Then came winter. And it was just ice. But now it was spring. So full of life. So bright.
But Lydia didn’t feel any warmth.
She clenched her fist tightly. Her eyes didn’t shine. They burned. It was as if the beauty around her made her even angrier. Like she wanted to set this whole lovely city on fire.
She stepped out of the carriage. Her shoes touched the familiar stone path. And slowly, she walked toward the palace.
The palace hadn’t changed much. Same grand doors. Same walls. Same air.
But Lydia had changed. She was not the same woman who had once walked into that palace full of love and hope. She had come with a heart bursting with dreams. With love for a man she gave everything to.
Now all she had left was ash.
The moment she stepped inside, everything changed. The maids and servants stopped what they were doing. Their eyes widened. Their hands froze. Some gasped. Some whispered.
"Is that... the Grand Duchess?"
"But she looks so different..."
Lydia heard them. Every word. But she didn’t flinch. She didn’t smile. She didn’t even blink. She walked slowly, like a queen returning to her castle. Her eyes scanned everything. The walls, the floor, the chandelier.
Memories were everywhere. Her footsteps echoed with memories.
She had danced in these halls with Ivan. She had laughed in these corridors. She had wept in these rooms.
But she didn’t feel any of it now.
All those memories weren’t warm anymore. They were cold. Empty. Dead.
Ivan stepped in behind her. Tatiana followed, along with Katherine.
Ivan’s eyes were locked on Lydia. He looked at her like a man watching something he lost forever. There was sadness in his eyes. Regret. And a kind of helplessness that made him look even older than he was.
Tatiana stood beside him, her hands trembling. She looked pale. Her eyes were glassy with tears she refused to let fall. She was holding her belly, trying to calm herself.
Katherine watched Lydia with quiet worry. Her eyes searched Lydia’s face, hoping for some emotion, some softness. But there was none.
Then Lydia finally turned around.
She looked at Katherine and said calmly, "Please prepare a bath for me. I would like to have my lunch at the terrace."
Katherine nodded quickly, "Yes, Your Highness."
But Lydia wasn’t done.
"While I eat," she continued, her voice strong and clear, "I want everything in my chambers removed. Every furniture, every sheet, every dress, every perfume. Even the jewelry."
She glanced at Tatiana, who was standing quietly behind. Her voice became colder.
"I do not want anything that has been touched by filth."
Tatiana’s face dropped. Her breath caught. She looked like someone had slapped her.
"I want new silk sheets," she went on, "New shelves, new mirrors, new tables. Everything should be made from polished mahogany. I want the furniture to be of velvet and gold thread. I will order my dresses from Elysia. My oils and perfumes too."
Katherine stood stunned. But she still nodded, writing everything down.
"Call the royal jeweller as well," Lydia added, "I want new jewels."
Then, slowly, she turned her face to the whispering servants who had gathered nearby. Her voice rang across the hall.
"Oh," she said, her lips curving into a small, cold smile, "Do spread the word. The Grand Duchess has returned."
And with that, she turned and walked away.
Ivan stood frozen in place. He had no words. He could only stare at her as she disappeared into the halls.
Tatiana stood beside him, shaking. Her eyes were filled with tears she didn’t want to cry. Her stomach turned. Her chest felt heavy.
But Ivan didn’t see her.
The woman he destroyed.
And the woman who was now burning everything they once had to the ground.