Page 190 of Claimed By the Maharaja
Even when she was annoyed, defiant, or arguing with him — calling him an infuriating, controlling jerk—the trust didn't leave. He had noticed that. It was new.
“You're quiet,” Viraj said.
“I'm thinking,” Bharat said.
“About the Gulwama situation?” Samar asked.
“Among other things.”
Ram glanced at him. “Any updates from your security team?”
“They've narrowed it down to two names,” Bharat said. “Should have confirmation by next week.”
“Let me know if your eastern routes need checking,” Ram said. “Two of my shipping lines overlap there.”
“I'll send the files.”
Across the garden, Sanjana leaned toward Yamini and said something. Yamini's face shifted—surprise first, and then something softer. A warmth that spread through her whole expression.
Pregnancy.
Bharat had already noticed it earlier. The way Sanjana's hand rested briefly against her stomach when she thought no one was watching. The way Ram repositioned himself slightly every time she moved.
His mother had noticed too. He had seen her gaze rest on Sanjana's stomach during lunch, briefly, before she returned to her tea.
Yamini's gaze lingered on Sanjana's stomach. Her smile was soft. Unguarded.
He recognized the look.
Longing.
She was thinking about children.
He had been watching her closely enough, for long enough now, to recognize each of her looks.
The frozen lake—her boots stamping against the ice, the deep sound rolling out beneath them, her face lighting up with wonder when it echoed across the valley.
The apple orchard—sunlight catching in her hair as she laughed carefreely with the steel workers. She smiled when petals landed on his jacket, then brushed them off without thinking twice.
In the palace, her things had slowly moved into his rooms. A scarf left over the back of his chair remained for two weeks. He didn’t move it. A photography book was left open on his office desk when she came two days ago, while he worked. He didn’t move it either. Her hairbrush next to his razor. A small case of lipstick on the bathroom counter, where before there had only been his things, arranged exactly the way he liked them.
She slept in his bed every night now. She curled toward him without thinking about it. Sometimes her hand found his even while she was asleep.
He had gotten used to her weight beside him. To the sound of her breathing. The way she looked at him in the mornings now was smiling and teasing.
He had started leaving work early, not because anything required it, but because she would be somewhere in the palace and some part of him wanted to be there too.
Even now, he had positioned himself in a way so he could look outside in the garden at her.
“You are thinking of bhabhi,” Samar said.
“Yes.”
Samar studied him for a moment. “I was wrong about her,” Samar said. “Five years ago. And after the wedding.”
Bharat didn't respond immediately.
“She's good for you,” Samar added.
