CHAPTER 163: WHEN LIGHT DISAPPEARS

It was very early in the morning. The sky outside was beginning to turn pale. The long night had ended at last, and the storm had gone. The rain had finally stopped falling, but the world still wore its traces. The ground outside was wet, the air smelled damp, and the trees were heavy with water. Droplets clung to the glass of the windows, slowly sliding down in silence.

Inside Ivan’s room, everything was still. The only sound was the faint breathing of two people lying together on the bed.

Ivan and Lydia were asleep in each other’s arms. His body curved around hers, holding her as if he still feared she would slip away. Her head rested on his chest, her hair spread against him, while his hand still lay gently in her hair. The night had left its mark on him too. His shirt was wrinkled, stained with the dried traces of her tears. His face, though calm now in sleep, carried the heaviness of sorrow.

The quiet of morning rested over them like a fragile blanket. But it did not last long.

Lydia stirred first. Her lashes trembled slightly as her eyes opened. The light of dawn greeted her, bright but soft, seeping into the room through the closed curtains. For a long moment, she did not move. She only stared ahead, trying to make sense of where she was, and then her eyes shifted.

She found herself lying in Ivan’s arms.

His chest rose and fell steadily beneath her cheek. His warmth surrounded her. His arm was still around her body, holding her as if she belonged there. Her heart tightened, and her breath caught for a second. Slowly, she lifted her head, and her eyes fell on his shirt.

The fabric was stiff in places, stained with lines of salt. The dried tears that had fallen from her eyes during the night were still there, marking him.

Her lips pressed together. She said nothing. She carefully moved his arm away from her and sat up on the bed. Her movements were slow, gentle, almost afraid to disturb him.

He did not stir.

She rose quietly to her feet. Her bare steps on the floor were soft, almost soundless. She walked toward the window, her robe trailing faintly behind her, and pulled the curtain aside. Then she pushed the window open.

The cool morning air rushed in at once, carrying the fresh smell of rain. The sky was clear now, brightening as the sun slowly climbed upward. The world outside glistened. Leaves and flowers sparkled with drops of water, and the light made them shine as though decorated with jewels. Birds began to stir and sing, their voices sweet and cheerful, filling the air with signs of new life.

But Lydia did not see it that way.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the brightness. Her hands tightened against the window frame.

She hated it.

The cheerful morning, the shining earth, the clear sky—she despised it all. To her, it felt cruel. The brightness seemed to laugh at her pain, to mock the storm that had lived in her heart the night before. The whole world looked as though it was celebrating, while inside she was drowning.

Her chest burned. Her face hardened. The memory of last night struck her like a knife.

She could see herself again, curled in the corner of the room, sobbing like a broken child. She could feel the cold floor under her, the sound of the rain drilling into her ears until she trembled in fear. She could hear her own pitiful voice calling for Ivan.

And worse than all of that—she had let him see her that way.

Her pride tore at her. Her heart raged. She had been weak, fragile, and small in front of him.

She hated it.

She hated that she had cried in his arms. She hated that he had held her, whispered to her, comforted her. She hated the strange peace she felt in his embrace, the warmth that had seeped into her while she sobbed.

The truth was even worse. She had clung to him too. Her own arms had wrapped around him, and she had not let go. She had allowed herself to rest against him, to fall asleep in the safety of his chest.

Her hands shook slightly as she stood at the window, remembering it all. Her body trembled, not from fear now, but from anger.

How could she? How could she let herself do that?

Especially when he was the reason for her pain.

The reason she suffered every time the rain fell. The reason her heart ached whenever thunder struck. The reason she carried scars so deep inside her that they would never fade.

Her son. Their son.

Her eyes burned, but no tears came this time. She forced them back, biting down on her lip until she tasted blood.

She turned slowly to look at him. Ivan was still asleep, lying on the bed. His face looked calm, peaceful, almost innocent. His hair was a little messy, his arm stretched out where she had left him.

Her chest tightened again, this time with something that felt suffocating. Because she could not deny it anymore. She had realized something terrible.

She was getting swayed.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she could not believe it. She was supposed to hate him. She was supposed to hurt him. She had come into his space to torment him, to remind him of what he had thrown away. To remind him of the ruin he had left her in.

And yet last night she had almost forgotten.

For a moment, in his arms, she had nearly let go of the past. She had almost forgotten the pain, the betrayal, the emptiness. She had almost allowed herself to feel like she belonged there again.

Her chest rose and fell quickly. No, she thought. No.

She could not allow that. She could not allow herself to be fooled, to be softened, to be broken down by him again.

Her voice came out in a low whisper, trembling with both anger and fear. "Don’t ever get swayed by him. Don’t forget what he did to you. Wake up, Lydia. You have to make him pay."

Her words hung in the air like a vow.

She straightened her robe, tying it tighter around herself, as though pulling her defenses back into place. Then, without another look at him, she turned and walked away.

Her steps were quick, light but determined. She did not want to hear the sound of his breathing anymore. She did not want to see his face again in that peaceful state that had almost undone her.

She left the room.

The moment the door closed behind her, Ivan’s eyes opened.

He had been awake since the moment she pulled away from his arms. He had felt her rise, had heard her quiet steps, had watched her standing by the window in silence. He had heard the faint whisper of her words, though he could not catch them clearly.

But he said nothing. He did not move. He only lay there, pretending to sleep, while his heart ached in his chest.

When the door shut and she was gone, he finally turned his head toward the empty space where she had lain just hours ago. The sheets were still warm from her body. His hand reached out slowly, resting on the place she had left.

His throat tightened.

He knew.

He knew she might never return to his side again.

In the hallway, Lydia walked softly. Her steps carried her back toward her chambers, away from him, away from the bed they had shared for the night. The robe brushed against her ankles as she moved, her face calm but her heart storming inside.

Behind her, Ivan lay in silence, watching the light of morning spread across the room, knowing it had taken her with it.