Page 221 of Claimed By the Maharaja
For weeks, she had believed his silence meant indifference. She had built an entire understanding of the last month around that belief.
The ache in her chest grew.
“You should build a life where you don't have to adjust yourself around me,” he said.
He wasn't commanding her. He was simply letting her go.
And that was what shattered her.
She had come here thinking she hated him. That she would always hate him, despite the fact that her heart ached for him each moment she was apart from him.
But now, she could no longer use hatred as a shield.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward him, close enough to break the careful distance he had been maintaining.
“No,” she said, looking at him with her chin raised.
He didn't move.
“I'm not leaving.”
CHAPTER 54
Later that evening, word had already traveled in the Jogra palace.
By the time Yamini reached her bedroom, the bed had been turned down, the electric fireplace lit, and an extra blanket added.
Savita was still inside.
“Maharani. We weren't sure which room you'd want, so...” She gestured vaguely at the bed and the connecting door. “Just in case.” There was a rosy hue on Savita’s cheeks.
Yamini pressed her lips to keep from smiling at the young maid’s blush. “I’ll be sleeping here tonight,” she said.
Savita’s smile dimmed slightly.
“Goodnight, Savita.”
“Goodnight, Maharani.”
Savita was walking out of the room when Yamini spoke. “Also, please ask Mr. Tikku to have someone bring Sheru back to the palace. Sheru is with the security in the city.”
Savita’s face brightened instantly with a smile. “Yes, of course, Maharani.”
Savita left in a hurry. Most likely to inform the rest of the staff that the Jogra maharani had returned to the palace and was not just visiting for a night.
Yamini stood alone in the room for a moment, shaking her head with a small smile.
Then her eyes automatically went to the connecting door.
She stared at it.
She desperately wanted to push open the door and step into his room. But she stopped herself.
She told herself that the right thing to do was to give him space. To give herself space too, to process everything she discovered in the past couple of hours.
Twenty-two years of paintings, a father who may have jumped from a cliff, a vasectomy at twenty—it was too much to process.
Taking a deep breath, she went for a quick shower. And then, changing into a comfortable nightdress, she lay down.
