Chapter 41
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She had not slept. Or rather, she had slept the way people do when their body gives up before their mind.
In short, shallow intervals that left her more exhausted than the wakefulness.
She had stared at the ceiling for most of the night, the pendant on the nightstand catching occasional moonlight, the connecting door closed and silent on the other side.
She had not put the pendant back on.
She had looked at it twice before leaving the room. Both times, she had left it where it was.
The breakfast hall was bright with morning mountain light, and she hated it. She wanted grey skies and low clouds and weather that matched her mood. Instead, the snow peaks gleamed outside the windows like everything was perfectly fine.
Bharat Jogra was already seated and having breakfast while reading on his tablet.
He looked well-rested and entirely undisturbed by the events of the previous night, which made her want to upend the entire table.
She dragged her chair back with deliberate force and sat down.
He didn't look up.
Savita poured steaming spiced tea and set a plate of hot vegetable parathas that Yamini currently had no appetite for.
“Thank you, Savita,” she said.
Savita must have sensed the tension or simply seen the dark shadows under her eyes because the young girl’s smile was less bright when she nodded and left.
It was just two of them in the room.
Yamini glared at him as he scrolled.
“Why,” she said, keeping her voice low and controlled with considerable effort, “have you never used protection?”
His hand paused.
“You want to control when we have a child,” she continued, her jaw tight. “Fine, but if that was the plan, why not simply use protection? Why make me go through the morning after pill and doctors—”
“You have a latex allergy,” his voice interrupted her.
She stared at him.
“Severe contact sensitivity,” he continued. “Documented. Non-latex alternatives carry a higher failure rate. The current arrangement is more reliable.”
She kept staring.
The words were uttered calmly as though he were commenting on the weather.
“How do you know about my latex allergy?” she asked.
He looked at her then. His eyes briefly moved to her neck, then back to her face.
“A medical background check was conducted before the contract signing,” he said.
Yamini stared at him in shock.
Of course, he would run a thorough background check on her before marrying her.
It was sensible, practical, and efficient. Just like everything else he did.
Unlike her, who had proposed to him on impulse and married him recklessly without even reading the contract fully.
She felt heat rush up her neck and into her face, and she was furious at herself for it.
“I see,” she gritted.
She picked up her kahwa cup. Set it back down. The small motion was the only thing she trusted herself to do with her hands.
“So, you are using precautions. Not because you don't want children. Because you want them on your schedule.”
“Yes,” he replied.
His calm reply agitated her more.
“I am not a project,” she said, her voice rising despite herself. “I am not a steel factory you acquired and optimized.”
He didn’t say anything. His face remained expressionless.
Then he rose.
He put on his jacket and adjusted his cuffs. The gold cufflinks caught the light with their usual indifference.
“Dr. Bhatt will arrive at ten,” he said. “Follow her instructions.”
He nodded once and walked toward the door. Security assembled outside without a sound.
Yamini watched him go.
She sat at the table for a long moment after the sound of the helicopter had faded into the mountains. Her breakfast had gone cold and untouched. Savita hovered near the doorway, clearly uncertain whether to approach.
“I'll eat later,” Yamini said. “Thank you, Savita.”
Savita nodded and withdrew.
Yamini pushed back from the table and walked toward the lower corridor where Sheru's basket was kept near the warm kitchen alcove. She crouched beside it, and the kitten immediately climbed into her lap.
She stroked his grey-and-white head while trying and failing to understand the control Bharat Jogra exerted on her life.
He married her for an heir. Yet, only he decided the timing.
“He is such a controlling jerk,” she whispered. “I hate him.”
Her chest tightened at the words.
The kitten purred loudly as though sensing her conflict.
She pressed her fingers into the soft fur.
“Maharani.”
She looked up.
Kamla stood in the corridor doorway, hands folded, expression apologetic. “Dr. Bhatt has arrived.”
Yamini closed her eyes briefly.
“Already?” she muttered.
It was three minutes past ten.
Of course, even the royal doctors would follow the Jogra maharaja’s timing.
Yamini set Sheru gently back into the basket, stood, and smoothed her dress. “Where is the doctor?”
“The east sitting room, Maharani.”
Yamini nodded and followed.
Dr. Bhatt was approximately fifty, with silver-streaked hair pulled into a neat bun, reading glasses on a chain around her neck. She rose when Yamini entered, gave a respectful nod, and opened her bag with brisk efficiency.
“Maharani,” she said. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Yamini replied, because there was no reason to be rude to a doctor who was simply doing her job.
Dr. Bhatt placed a small white pill in a paper cup and a glass of water beside it on the side table. She said nothing further. No explanation or apology. Just the cup and the glass and a steady, professional gaze.
Yamini looked at the pill.
She thought about refusing. She had considered it during the sleepless night, running the argument over in her mind. It was her body, her choice, and her medical decision.
But she had signed the contract agreeing to the terms even though she hadn’t read them.
She picked up the paper cup and swallowed the pill with a long drink of water.
Dr. Bhatt noted something on her phone.
Then she looked up. “His Highness will require confirmation of ingestion via bloodwork within six hours.”
Yamini looked at her.
“Bloodwork,” Yamini repeated.
“Yes, Maharani. A standard procedure. I will draw the sample in a few minutes.”
Of course, he didn’t trust her. He probably expected her to spit out the pill to spite him.
Yamini closed her eyes and opened them. “Fine. Please have some refreshments while we wait.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
Thirty minutes later, Yamini sat down again, extended her arm, and looked at the window while Dr. Bhatt prepared the needle.
Outside, the mountains were still gleaming. Still perfectly, indifferently beautiful.
She felt the small cold swab on the inside of her elbow.
“Small pinch,” Dr. Bhatt said.
Yamini said nothing.
She watched the blood fill the vial, dark and steady. Dr. Bhatt withdrew the needle, pressed a small cotton pad to the inside of her elbow, and secured it with a neat piece of tape.
“All done, Maharani,” she said. “Results will be sent to His Highness directly.”
Dr. Bhatt packed her bag, gave a respectful nod, and left.
Yamini sat alone in the east sitting room with a cotton pad taped to her arm.
She pressed her fingers over the cotton pad.
Cold, calculating, controlling bastard.
I do hate him.
Even as she thought those words, she couldn’t stop thinking about the two seconds his thumb had brushed the emerald pendant.
She hated herself a little for that.