Ivan stood quietly at the end of the hallway leading to his chambers, leaning against the cool wall. His mind was restless. He had left Irina alone with Lydia, and even though he knew he should give them space, he couldn't stop the nagging worry in his chest.
The door to his chambers opened, and Irina stepped out. He could see it immediately—her eyes were red, her cheeks glistened with tears that she tried to hide. Her movements were composed, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her.
"Are you okay, Lady Volkova?" Ivan asked softly, his voice gentle.
Irina quickly collected herself. "I am," she said, her voice steady but a little strained. "I will take my leave, Your Highness." She bowed slightly and turned, leaving down the corridor.
But Ivan could feel it in his bones. Something was wrong. He didn't trust the calm facade. He knew he needed to see Lydia. To check if she was alright.
