Page 169 of Claimed By the Maharaja
He painted until the first pale light came over the mountains and the darkness began to thin at the edges.
CHAPTER 39
It had been over two weeks since she had walked out of Bharat Jogra’s office.
Mornings changed first.
Yamini stopped going to the main dining hall. She woke early, before the palace fully stirred, and had breakfast in the smaller sitting room near her studio. A silver tray appeared quietly each morning without her having to ask.
Sheru curled in her lap while she fed him small pieces of boiled chicken.
“You don't ask,” she murmured one morning, scratching behind his ears. “You just take what you want.”
He could enforce a contract. He could not enforce her presence at his table.
But sometimes, when faint sounds drifted up from the main hall—the low, steady cadence of his voice—her steps slowed in the corridor. Just for a second.
Then she walked on.
The staff noticed. The housekeeper paused in the doorway one morning.
“Would Maharani prefer breakfast in the main hall today?”
“No,” Yamini said. “Thank you.”
Savita's eyes moved once to the blocked connecting door while changing the linens. She said nothing. The staff bowed when Yamini passed, and their eyes stayed with her a moment longer than usual.
The palace noticed everything. Silence had witnesses.
Work helped.
She spent longer hours at the studio, reviewing images from the factory visits.
At the steel plants, she was professional and focused. Bharat was present at most of them. Charcoal suit. Sunglasses. Immaculate posture. She would see him across the floor speaking to engineers, one hand resting in his pocket.
The same hand that had stayed at her waist through the entire announcement.
He never looked in her direction. Never called for her.
She told herself that was a relief. She didn't want a confrontation at a work site.
But her pulse didn't agree. His restraint irritated her, infuriated her, hurt her.
Pooja noticed when she visited the studio.
Her friend remained playful at first.
“So what are you and the handsome maharaja up to these days?”
“Nothing much,” Yamini said. “We've both been busy.”
A pause.
“You used to complain about him constantly. Now you don't mention him at all.”
“There's nothing to talk about.”
Pooja didn't push. But her silence on the way out was heavier than her words usually were.
