Chapter 11: Lost Hopes
Vladimir ran quickly to Ivan’s room, his face drawn with worry and concern. As soon as he entered, he found Ivan awake but cold and distant. Ivan tried to leave the bed, pushing himself up weakly, but a sharp pain shot through him, and he was forced to fall back against the pillows, his face tightening.
"I want to sleep," Ivan said, turning his face away. "Leave."
The servants and guards exchanged glances but obeyed. Vladimir stood there for a moment longer, as if wanting to say something, but in the end, he said nothing. With a heavy heart, he turned and left with the others, closing the door behind them.
Meanwhile, back at the Andreyevna house, Lydia sat by her window, staring quietly at the night sky. The stars blinked faintly, blurred by the tears in her eyes. A soft knock came at her door. She turned, surprised. A moment later, she heard the sound of the lock turning. Slowly, the door opened, and Elena stepped inside, carrying a tray.
"I brought your dinner," Elena said in a small voice. She placed the tray on the small table by the bed and turned to her. "I’m sorry... for Father. I tried to talk to him but..." Her voice broke, and she shook her head helplessly. "I’m so sorry, Lydia. I wish I could do something to help you."
Lydia smiled sadly and hugged her tightly. "It’s not your fault, Elena. Don’t cry. It’s okay."
They stayed like that for a moment, two girls bound by helplessness in a house that grew colder each day.
The next morning came slowly.
Ivan was feeling a little better, though his body was still weak and sore. He stood in the king’s throne room, dressed simply, his posture straight despite the pain he was clearly holding back.