CHAPTER 13 — Memories of Ivan

Elen sat on the edge of her bed, her forehead pressed to the cool wood of the door, trying to calm the storm inside her. Her anger at her parents, at the world, at herself, roared like fire—but then, her thoughts wandered.

She remembered the first time she had met him.

A small, quiet figure under a tree in the forest… a boy with kind eyes and a gentle voice. She remembered the apple he had offered, the warmth of the fire in the cave, the scarf he had draped around her shoulders when the wind bit too sharply. She remembered the way he had never forced her to speak, never demanded anything from her.

He was… different, she thought, heart tightening. He didn’t fear me. He didn’t try to control me. He just… understood.

She remembered the first words she had spoken: her name, trembling and uncertain, yet somehow safe in his presence. And she remembered the moment they had left the forest together, hand in hand, making their way to a small village where life was simple, warm, and free.

Years passed, six in total. She remembered her laughter replacing the coldness in her chest, the gentle mornings beside him, the quiet evenings spent learning, training, and simply being together. She remembered the night he had asked her to be his wife, the way her heart had soared as she whispered yes.

Her fingers brushed her lips as if they still held his warmth. She could almost feel his hand in hers, strong but gentle, steady and unwavering.

He loved me… she thought. And I… I loved him too.

The memory brought a soft ache, a longing so deep it made her chest tighten. Anger at her parents, anger at herself, anger at the world—it all remained, but now it was mixed with a quiet, painful hope.

For Ivan. For the life they had shared.

Elen pressed her hands against her eyes, letting herself remember the warmth, the peace, the gentle world he had built for her. A world she had left, a world she longed to return to, even if she didn’t yet know how.

And somewhere in the quiet of her room, her heart whispered what she could not yet speak aloud:

I will see him again. I must.