CHAPTER 48
Yamini sat in her small rented apartment, working at her laptop.
On the screen, molten steel glowed like captured fire. Workers in helmets stood shoulder to shoulder, proud and steady.
She adjusted the contrast, sharpened a frame, and balanced the highlights.
Her hands moved with professional calm. Her mind didn't.
She clicked to the next image.
Bharat stood in profile, sleeves rolled, speaking to a group of engineers. The light caught his eyes—golden-brown, steady, unreadable even in stillness.
Her fingers froze on the mouse.
She zoomed in despite her heart screaming at her not to.
The image magnified until she could see the line of his jaw. The faint tension at his temple. The authority in his posture.
She stared at it for a moment too long.
And then she minimized it.
This is just professional work, she told herself. This was the final phase of the PR project. The files were due by the end of the week. She would finish what she started.
It had been two weeks since she had walked out of Jogra Palace with a suitcase, her laptop, and Sheru wrapped in a pashmina shawl. Two weeks since the emerald pendant had skidded across the teak table and landed between them.
Now she lived in a small rented apartment above a pharmacy.
There were no marble floors or silent corridors or friendly staff who sensed her mood before she said anything. There were just white walls, a narrow balcony, and a kitchen she had to clean herself.
Sheru didn’t seem to mind that from a palace, his space had been reduced to a small space.
At night, her bed felt too cold.
She told herself she preferred it.
But some nights, in the dark, her body remembered things she didn’t want to remember. His kisses. His passion. Then the weight of his arm across her waist. And the way he pulled her closer in his sleep.
She hated that she missed it.
The child you will be carrying won't be mine. It will be from another man.
The words came back without warning, the way they did several times a day.
She straightened in her chair and dragged the cursor across the screen, adjusting the exposure harder than she needed to.
He never loved you, she told herself. He planned to destroy you.
The apartment door creaked open.
“Yamini?”
She didn't have to turn around. It was Pooja.
Pooja came in with a takeout bag in one hand, worry written across her face.
Sheru trotted over and wound around Pooja's ankles before she'd even put the bag down.
Pooja crouched briefly to scratch his ears. “At least someone's happy to see me.”
Pooja then crossed the room and pulled Yamini into a hug.
Yamini stiffened, then let herself lean into it for a moment.
“You look terrible,” Pooja said. “Have you eaten anything all day?”
“I've been working.”
“You have been avoiding me,” Pooja said.
Yamini turned back to her screen and started rearranging folders that didn't need rearranging.
Pooja had been calling for two weeks. Dropping by. Asking the same question in different ways. What happened. Why did you leave? What did he do?
Yamini had deflected every time.
Today wasn't going to be easier.
Pooja pulled a stool over and sat down.
“Jogra security said you haven't left the apartment since yesterday.”
Yamini was irritated. She had asked them to leave multiple times. They were still outside guarding the apartment day and night.
“I'm asking again,” Pooja said gently. “What happened between you and Bharat Jogra?”
Yamini kept her eyes on the screen.
“It's over,” she said.
Pooja drew in a breath. “What do you mean by that?”
“The contract marriage is finished.”
The words made her chest ache.
“You've been saying that for two weeks,” Pooja said. “That's not really an answer.”
“It's the only one you're getting.”
Pooja's expression softened. “You looked so happy. The two of you looked perfect together.”
Yamini's jaw tightened. “All of that was an illusion.”
“No,” Pooja said. “You were glowing.”
Yamini clicked to the next image too fast, misjudged the crop, and had to undo it.
“Did he cheat on you?” Pooja asked hesitantly. “Like Rahul?”
“No.”
The answer came out immediately.
Bharat Jogra was many things. Controlled. Calculating. Infuriating.
But not that.
“Then what?” Pooja asked.
Yamini shook her head once. “It doesn't matter.”
“It matters to you.”
She swallowed. “He married me for revenge,” she said finally.
Pooja frowned. “Did he tell you that?”
Yamini’s jaw clenched. “He made it obvious.”
Pooja frowned. “How? He has always given you things before you even ask. He’s protective.”
“All of those were lies,” Yamini said, her voice sharpening, “And I returned whatever he has given me.”
Pooja leaned back and studied her. “You still love him.”
“No.” The word came out too fast, too sharp. “I have never loved him.”
The denial echoed louder than the truth would have.
Pooja didn't push. Her gaze drifted to the monitor, where the preview of Bharat's image still sat in the corner.
“He doesn't look like a man who would just let you go,” Pooja said carefully.
Yamini's chest tightened. She closed the laptop screen halfway.
“He doesn't get a choice.”
She knew what Bharat was capable of. He could apply pressure if he wanted to. Not because he wanted her back. But to only make things harder for her.
She pushed the thought away.
“I've accepted a job abroad,” she said.
Pooja blinked. “What?”
“I applied before the marriage. They reached out again and I said yes.”
“Where?” Pooja asked.
“London.”
Pooja was quiet for a moment.
“You're leaving the country?” Pooja said, stunned.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
Pooja's face shifted from shock to concern. “Are you running away from him?”
Yamini met her eyes. “I'm choosing to start over.”
Pooja didn't look convinced.
“What about the exhibition?”
Pooja had sent out invitations two weeks ago, insisting the photographs deserved to be seen. The prints were now sitting in storage since Yamini had vacated the Dalview studio.
“I'll be there for the exhibition. Then I'll leave.”
Pooja reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Just make sure you're not running from something you actually want.”
Yamini didn't answer.
Because she didn't know anymore what that was.
Pooja stood. “Call me tonight. Even if you just want to sit in silence.”
Yamini nodded, her throat tightening.
When the door closed, the apartment felt smaller. Quieter.
She opened the laptop again.
Bharat's image filled the screen. Golden-brown eyes. Controlled expression. The maharaja in his domain.
Her fingers hovered over the brightness slider.
She could soften the shadows around his face. Make him look warmer.
Instead, she reduced the highlights. Muted the gold.
Then she dragged the file out of the exhibition folder. And then deleted it.
Her breath shook.
“I hate you,” she whispered into the empty apartment.
The words didn't sound convincing even to her.
Her hand moved to her chest.
She caught herself a second too late. There was nothing there. There hadn't been for two weeks. She had thrown away the emerald fish pendant.
She lowered her hand slowly.
Sheru climbed into her lap without being invited.
She didn't push him off. She held him closer.
Her phone buzzed on the desk.
She let it ring. And kept staring at the empty space on the screen where Bharat’s picture used to be.