The Bride Of The Devil-Chapter 70: The One Who Is Sorry Pt1

It was dawn. The sky outside was pale and quiet. The air still carried the cold from the night. Servants were already moving around the palace, preparing the gates. The horses were being saddled. The carriage that would take them back to Svetlana waited in silence at the courtyard.

Ivan stood in his chambers, tightening his gloves. His fingers moved slowly, as if he was not in a hurry. His mind was elsewhere. There was a quiet stillness in the room. He did not look up when the knock came at the door.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened gently, and Leonid stepped in. His hair was messy and his eyes looked heavy with sleep. He wore a long robe and slippers. It was clear he had just gotten out of bed.

Ivan frowned a little. "Why are you here? It is still early. You should go back to sleep."

Leonid stepped forward, rubbing his eyes. His voice was small. "I came to say goodbye."

Ivan paused. He looked at his younger brother and saw how his hands were nervously playing with the edge of his sleeve.

Leonid took another step. "Brother... when do you plan to come back?"

Ivan looked away. His voice was calm, but there was no softness in it. "I have no plans on coming back anytime soon."

Leonid’s face fell. His mouth parted a little as if he wanted to say something but was trying to find the right words.

"Then it means I will not see you anytime soon," he whispered.

Ivan did not answer. He just looked down at his gloves.

Leonid lowered his head. "I wish I could visit you and sister-in-law... but mother will not let me. She still thinks you will hurt me. Because of that day."

His voice shook slightly at the last part.

He continued. "If only they knew the truth. Maybe if I told everyone, they would not be so afraid of you. Maybe they would see things differently. Maybe they would stop saying such cruel things about you."

But before he could finish, Ivan stepped forward and stopped him. His voice was firm.

"Do not. It is better that they do not know."

Leonid looked up quickly. His eyes were already glossy. "But it is my fault," he said, almost choking on his words. "Everyone blames you, but it was me. It was all because of me."

Tears began to run down his cheeks. His small hands were clenched into fists by his side. His shoulders were shaking slightly.

Ivan bent down and looked him in the eyes. His own expression softened.

"It is not your fault," he said gently. "It was an accident. Nothing more. You were just a child. You did not mean for any of it to happen."

He reached out and held Leonid’s hands.

"Do not carry this guilt. I am the one who made the decision to stay silent, not you. And I will keep making that decision, for your sake."

Leonid could not stop crying. Ivan took out something from the inner pocket of his coat.

It was the small wooden whistle Leonid had carved and given him.

"Do you remember this?" he asked with a small smile.

Leonid nodded.

Ivan placed it in his hands.

"I will get a messenger bird. Just blow this whistle whenever you want to write to me. The bird will come to you. We can send letters back and forth as much as you want."

Leonid looked at the whistle for a long time. Then he looked up at Ivan again.

"Really?"

"Yes," Ivan said softly. "Even if I do not come back, we will not lose each other. I promise."

Leonid smiled through his tears. He wiped his face with the back of his sleeve.

"Thank you, brother."

Together they left the chambers. The hallway was quiet. The sound of their footsteps echoed gently as they walked. Leonid held the whistle tightly in his hands like it was something precious.

As they turned a corner, they ran into Lydia.

She was already dressed, ready for travel. Her cloak was wrapped around her, and her gloves were in her hands. But her face looked tired. Her eyes were dull and heavy. It was clear she had not slept at all.

Her gaze met Ivan’s, and for a brief moment, they just looked at each other.

Ivan turned to Leonid. "Wait here."

Leonid nodded and stood by the wall.

Ivan walked forward, and Lydia joined him. Neither of them spoke, but they walked side by side. Their steps were slow and steady.

When they reached the door to Vladimir’s study, Ivan knocked once before opening it.

The room was filled with pale light from the rising sun. The soft glow made everything look faded and cold. Vladimir stood by the window, his back to them. He did not turn around. He was staring out into the sky, lost in thought.

Lydia stepped forward and bowed politely. "Good morning, Your Majesty."

Vladimir gave a small nod, but still didn’t turn.

Ivan did not bow. His voice was cold and sharp. "Our carriage is already waiting. Say what you want to say so we may take our leave."

Vladimir finally turned around. His face was calm, but his eyes were tired.

"I do not have anything much to say," he said simply. "I only wished you would stay longer. But I know you will not."

Ivan gave a small nod, then turned toward the door.

"If you have nothing to say, then I will take my leave."

He took a step forward, but Vladimir’s voice stopped him.

"I know you hate me, Ivan," he said. "And I know I deserve it. But I want you to know that I am truly sorry. For everything. I do not expect to be forgiven. I only want you to know that I am sorry."

Ivan’s hand froze on the doorknob.

There was a long silence.

Then he turned slowly.

"You are sorry," he said, his voice rising. His eyes were shining now.

"You think the word sorry is enough for what you did to me. For what you did to my mother."

His voice was shaking. His breath was sharp.

"You are delusional if you believe that word can make me forget everything. All those years. All that pain."

He stepped closer, his anger coming out like fire.

"And you are wrong. I do not hate you."

Lydia, who had kept her head down, slowly looked up at him. Her eyes were full of tears.

Ivan’s voice was louder now.

"I absolutely loathe you. I detest you. I abhor you more than anything in this world."

His voice broke. His hands were trembling.

"So stop pretending to be sorry. We both know what you are truly sorry about."

He took another step.

"You are only sorry that you have a son like me. A son who taints your perfect image. That is what you cannot stand. That is what makes you ashamed."

He stared straight into Vladimir’s eyes. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out.

His eyes were glassy. He blinked hard, but the tears still came.

Behind him, Vladimir stood still, his own eyes full of unshed tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, but he did not speak.

Lydia had not moved. She stood between them, her body frozen. She had seen the pain in both of their eyes. She had heard it in their voices. Like they wanted to say more but could not. Like something inside them had shattered too deeply to be repaired.

A tear rolled down her cheek. Then another.

She turned to follow Ivan, but before she reached the door, Vladimir called out to her softly.

"Wait."

She stopped.

"I have something to say to you."

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