CHAPTER 20
Yamini had not seen the Gaur Palace in five years.
From the helicopter window, it looked smaller than she remembered, though not physically.
Amidst the mustard fields, the palace still stood with pale stone walls weathered by heat and time, its domes rising above dry gardens and courtyards.
The carved balconies were still there. The old mango trees still leaned over the east wall.
The narrow terrace where she had hidden from tutors and relatives still ran along the second floor.
But something had changed. Or maybe she had.
The helicopter descended toward the slightly overgrown yet flat land in front of the palace. Yamini’s fingers tightened around the edge of her dress.
Across from her, Bharat sat in complete silence, dressed in a dark charcoal suit with his sunglasses in place.
Yamini tried not to look at him. It was difficult not to.
He looked as though he were arriving for a business meeting rather than walking into the home of the woman who had once abandoned him before their wedding.
She still couldn’t believe that he had agreed to come with her so easily.
And now, he looked as though this was simply one more task arranged into his day.
The helicopter landed smoothly. Security moved first, then Bharat stepped out. Yamini followed, her heart pounding harder with every second.
There were no guards at the Gaur palace to receive them. Yamini knew there would only be a meager staff inside. But the helicopter's noise would have alerted her family and the staff inside.
She had told herself she would walk in calmly.
Composed. Like a maharani next to Bharat Jogra.
But halfway through the overgrown grass, her eager restlessness grew.
Yamini couldn’t wait to see her family. She lifted her lehenga slightly and ran.
She then hurried up the stone steps and pushed open the main door.
The palace was familiar and strange at once. The marble floor still had the faint crack near the center pillar. The blue glass lamps her mother loved still hung from the ceiling. The portrait of her grandmother still watched over the room with cold eyes.
The first person she saw was her mother, who was just coming down the stairs.
Rani Maheeta Gaur looked thinner than Yamini remembered. Her hair had more silver in it, and the lines around her mouth were deeper. For a brief moment, she simply stood there, one hand pressed to her chest, staring. “Yamini?”
The sound of her mother’s voice nearly broke something inside her.
“Ma,” Yamini whispered.
Her mother came down the steps faster than a royal woman should. She reached Yamini and pulled her into a tight embrace, trembling arms closing around her as though she feared Yamini might vanish again.
Yamini hugged her back, tears prickling her eyes.
The familiar scent of sandalwood and jasmine clung to her mother’s sari. It was the same. Exactly the same. Five years, a marriage, a divorce, a continent away, and her mother still smelled like sandalwood and jasmine.
“Oh, my child,” her mother whispered, voice breaking. “You are here.”
Yamini shut her eyes. She had thought she was prepared for the reunion. But she didn’t realize how much she missed her mother.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” she whispered.
Her mother only held her tighter.
For one brief moment, the past five years collapsed. The shame, the blocked calls, the silence, the divorce, the lonely apartments, the pride she had wrapped around herself like armor. Beneath all of it, she was still a daughter who had wanted her mother to answer the phone.
“Maheeta, who is it?” a familiar voice asked.
Yamini opened her eyes.
Her father stood at the top of the steps.
Maharaja Mahinder Gaur wore an ivory kurta and a sleeveless jacket. Age had deepened the lines on his face, but his authority was unchanged.
He had the particular posture of a man who had never once doubted his own judgment. Yamini had grown up trying to earn a nod from that posture. She had stopped trying at twenty-two.
As soon as he saw Yamini, his expression changed to fury.
“Get out,” he said coldly.
Yamini’s heart jerked.
Her mother turned toward her husband. “Mahinder, please—Our daughter has come back—”
“I said get out,” her father repeated, louder now. “You have no right to step into this house.”
Her chest tightened painfully. “Papa—”
“You lost the right to call me that,” he snapped. “You are a disgrace to this family. Five years ago, you humiliated us, destroyed our standing, and ran away like a coward. We disowned you. Nothing has changed.”
Footsteps sounded from up the stairs. Her older brother came down and stood behind their father. Shock lit his face when he saw her.
Yamini’s heart jerked.
She and her brother had once been close. He used to sneak her extra sweets from the kitchen and cover for her when she disappeared to photograph stray dogs and children playing in the streets outside the palace. He had stopped calling after the elopement. She had stopped expecting him to.
He looked so much like their father. But instead of cold authority, his expression was now strained.
“Throw her out,” their father ordered. “Now.”
Her brother looked torn.
When her brother didn’t move, Yamini saw her father turning towards the staff hovering nearby, watching the drama unfold. “Throw her out. I don’t want her—”
Before he could finish, the main door opened wider, and the uniformed royal security stepped in, standing by the door.
A moment later, Bharat Jogra walked in.
The air seemed to still.
“Your Highness,” her father said in shock. And then, she saw him descending the steps rapidly. “This is an honor. We were not informed you would be visiting.”
Bharat inclined his head once. “Maharaja Gaur. Maharani Gaur. I’m here with your daughter.”
His voice was low and formal yet commanding.
For a moment, her parents and brother froze, unsure what to make of it.
Yamini inhaled a deep breath. “Ma… papa… I am married now to… Maharaja Bharat Singh Jogra.”
There was absolute silence.
Her mother’s hand shook slightly in hers before she spoke. “That’s… that’s wonderful news.”
Her father recovered quickly. He straightened, his expression shifting into something like relief. “I see,” he said. “I am… glad, Your Highness. Glad that you chose to forgive my wayward daughter.”
Yamini stiffened at the word.
“She made a terrible mistake,” her father continued. “But this marriage—this restores everything.”
Bharat remained silent. And his face revealed nothing.
“You are a newlywed couple,” her mother said. “That means we must welcome you properly with our rituals.”
Yamini didn’t say anything. She stood next to Bharat Jogra as arrangements were made.
Several rituals practiced by the Gaur royal house were performed.
And soon after the rituals, lunch was arranged hurriedly.
“Ma, please don’t trouble yourself—”
“Nonsense,” her father interrupted with a booming laugh that sounded false to her ears. “Our daughter has returned with Maharaja Bharat Singh Jogra. This is a blessed day.”
Our daughter. The words twisted inside her.
Barely weeks ago, her father had told her she was no longer his daughter.
Now, because Bharat Jogra stood beside her, she was theirs again.
Bharat Jogra remained silent.
She wished he hadn’t witnessed her father’s shallow affection. Or her mother’s tears. Or her brother’s guilt-ridden face.
But he did witness all the broken pieces of a family that had been rearranged instantly because power had entered the room.
They sat in the formal drawing room.
Refreshments arrived quickly. Silver trays. Saffron sweets. Spiced tea. Dry fruits in crystal bowls that had likely been pulled out after years because a maharaja had arrived.
Yamini’s father sat across from Bharat Jogra, leaning forward slightly, eager to please.
“We have always held the Jogra house in the highest regard,” he said. “What happened five years ago was deeply unfortunate. Deeply shameful.”
Yamini’s fingers tightened around her teacup.
Her mother looked down.
Her brother’s jaw tightened.
Bharat Jogra did not react.
Her father continued. “Yamini was young. Foolish. Easily misled. We tried to make her understand her duty, but she had always been stubborn.”
“But destiny has corrected what youth destroyed,” her father added, smiling at Bharat Jogra. “We are grateful for your generosity in accepting her again.”
A cold wave of shame passed through Yamini.
Accepting her again.
As though she were damaged goods returned to a generous buyer.
Before she could speak, Bharat Jogra spoke.
“I did not accept her again,” he said.
The room went completely still.
Her father's smile held, uncertain now.
Yamini’s breath caught.
“I married her,” Bharat continued, his voice level.
Her father blinked and looked relieved. “Of course, Your Highness,” he said, recovering quickly. “It is an honor for us all.”
Yamini’s heart thudded.
“I did not accept her again. I married her.”
Although her father took those words as reassurance, they sounded ominous to her.
They sounded like a threat.
Before she could think more about it, lunch was served soon after.
Her father spoke too much. About alliances. About the future. About how happy the Gaur family was to see the old relationship restored.
Yamini listened without really hearing.
Her mother kept looking at her as though memorizing her face.
Her brother was silent.
As soon as the lunch was over, Bharat stood. “We’ll have to leave. I have prior commitments.”
Her father nodded with an understanding smile. “Of course, Your Highness. We know how busy you must be.”
Yamini didn’t mind that the visit was cut short. She was happy she could see her mother and could smooth things over with her family.
When it was time to leave, her mother hugged her again, longer this time.
“I’m so happy,” her mother whispered.
Yamini swallowed. “I’m happy too, Ma.”
Yamini hugged her brother next. “Bhai.”
She could see a faint sheen of tears in his eyes when he pulled back from her hug. “Take care of yourself, Yami,” he said, using the shortened form of her name that he always did.
“I will. Take care of Ma and Papa,” she said.
Her father didn’t hug her. But he gave her a brief, hard look. It held a warning.
“Don’t ruin this," it said.
Yamini inhaled a deep breath.
Her father then turned to Bharat Jogra for an elaborate farewell, filled with respect and eagerness, as he presented traditional Gaur royal gifts.
Bharat Jogra accepted them with a brief nod.
The security carried the gifts away.
By the time Yamini accompanied Bharat Jogra to the waiting helicopter, she felt emotionally wrung out.
The blades began turning.
And the Gaur Palace slowly fell away beneath them, swallowed by the yellow mustard fields surrounding it.
Yamini rested her forehead against the helicopter window, watching her childhood home disappear from view. This time, there was no crushing tightness of loss in her chest at the thought of her family.
Although the tightness had eased, some of it still remained. She still wasn't sure whether today's welcome belonged to her or to the man sitting across from her.
She turned to look at him now.
Sunglasses were back in place, and he was reading something on his tablet, his handsome face composed and unreadable as always.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For coming with me.”
He didn’t look towards her. His eyes remained on the tablet while he only gave a brief, curt nod.
Heat flared in her chest with annoyance at his cold dismissal.
She glared at him.
Cold-hearted, infuriating man.