CHAPTER 23
It was a small rebellion. She was aware of how small it was.
But Bharat Singh Jogra commanded her to be at breakfast at sharp nine every single night before he left her room, and she had decided early in this marriage that she would comply with that particular instruction when she felt like it and not one minute before.
The fact that she could not apply the same stubborn logic to his other midnight commands made her face heat with embarrassment.
Pushing away the thoughts of midnight, she walked downstairs towards the dining area.
Yamini paused briefly downstairs before heading toward breakfast.
Sher Bahadur luckily remained exactly where the staff had arranged him, near a back room next to the kitchen. He now looked far healthier than the tiny, trembling creature she had found outside days earlier.
She crouched briefly and stroked the kitten’s head. The tiny creature immediately pressed against her hand before lowering its head toward the bowl.
Satisfied, she stood and continued toward the breakfast hall.
The snow-capped mountains looked slightly misty outside the tall windows.
Bharat was already seated when she entered, dark suit, crisp cuffs, phone in hand. He didn't look up. He never looked up when she was late, which was somehow more infuriating than if he had said something.
She crossed to her chair and sat down.
Savita, one of the younger maids, stepped forward immediately with a warm, shy smile. “Good morning, Maharani.” She set down the kahwa with a small bow. “There are aloo parathas this morning, accompanied by fresh achar with mustard seeds.”
Yamini smiled. “Thank you, Savita,” she said, making a note to thank the cook and the staff later that evening.
The Jogra staff had been making her favorite dishes during meals, even though she had never made any special requests. She was touched by their effort, which made her feel welcome and reminded her of her childhood home.
Savita's smile widened, and she stepped back with another small bow.
Across the table, Bharat had not looked up from his phone.
At least the staff likes me and pays attention, unlike their maharaja.
Dragging her eyes away from the handsome face, she looked at the breakfast dish.
The paratha was golden and crisp at the edges, butter pooling in the center, the way it only did when someone had taken their time. A small steel bowl of achaar sat beside it, deep red with mustard seeds floating at the surface.
Yamini’s mouth tingled. She was just about to reach for it when her eyes caught the attention of a small black velvet box.
She frowned slightly.
She hadn't seen it when she sat down. It was placed close enough to her plate that it had been partially obscured by the kahwa cup when Savita set it down.
She looked at it for a moment, wondering what it was and why it was placed at the breakfast table. She reached for it and lifted the lid, and froze completely.
The emerald fish pendant lay against dark velvet, catching the morning light in fragments of deep green and white. The fish shape was elegant and strong, the emerald so deep it bordered on forest green, the diamonds edging it without overwhelming it.
Her great-grandmother's necklace—the same one Tina had been bidding for at the exhibition yesterday, the same one that wasn't supposed to be released until the auction closed this evening.
She stared at it for a long moment, unable to process what it was doing next to her breakfast plate.
She lifted her eyes.
Across the table, Bharat turned a page on his phone.
He was still reading. His expression gave nothing away. His pink-hued, noon chai cup sat at a precise angle beside his plate. The morning continued around him as though nothing had happened, as though placing her family's history beside her breakfast was a routine task he had already moved past.
Her throat tightened.
“Why did you buy the emerald pendant?” she asked.
He didn't look up. “You wanted it.”
Her heart gave an unwanted flutter that she immediately suppressed. She set the box down beside her plate and kept her voice even.
“Who told you I wanted it?” she asked.
“The security stated you were upset,” he said, swiping on his phone. “It was more efficient to resolve the matter immediately.”
She stared at him.
“It belonged to your family,” he added. “Allowing it to pass into someone else’s possession would be illogical.”
For one ridiculous moment, she had almost believed this gesture meant something else. But buying the emerald pendant was purely driven by cold logic and efficiency.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly.
He didn’t say anything. Not even a quick ‘you're welcome’.
The gratitude she felt turned into irritation.
“You should have used the card,” he said. “It would have been simpler.”
He was right. She recalled almost reaching for the card the previous day. But had stopped herself for a reason.
“I don’t need your money,” she gritted. “And I certainly don’t need rescuing.”
He took a sip of his pink-hued tea. “I do not rescue,” he said. “I secure.”
She let out a short, annoyed breath. “I'm not one of your acquisitions.”
He looked up then. His golden-brown eyes met hers across the table and held. “No,” he said. “You are my wife.”
Her heart jerked at his words.
But she had to once again remind herself that he was simply stating a logical fact. It meant nothing.
He rose smoothly, slipping on his jacket, adjusting his cuffs with the smooth efficiency she watched each morning.
“An appraisal document for the necklace will be sent to your studio,” he said. “Have it insured under your name.”
He then gave a small nod and walked toward the exit, security already assembling outside the hall.
She watched him go as confusion stirred inside her heart.
She didn’t know whether to feel grateful for the emerald pendant or annoyed by his coldness.
She sat for several minutes with the velvet box open beside her half-eaten paratha, looking at the snowcapped mountains and feeling frustrated with a man who kept doing things she didn't know how to categorize.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the necklace and put it on.
The emerald fish settled at the base of her throat, cool and solid and exactly right.