Page 115 of Trapped By the Maharaja

Her cheeks warmed, recalling the previous night when she had demanded that he kiss her and treat her as a wife. Now, he was simply following her order.

By the time she found her voice, he was already stepping away, straightening his cuffs. “I’ll see you later this evening,” he said, as though nothing about the moment was unusual.

Then he strode out of the breakfast hall, leaving her staring after him.

Her hand drifted up to the spot where his lips had brushed, and she felt the warmth still lingering there.

Taking a shaky breath, Sanjana forced herself to lower her hand and push away the dangerous, treacherous feeling curling through her. She reminded herself of the contract.

She had to keep her distance.

???

The soft beeping of monitors and the faint scent of antiseptic filled the pediatric recovery ward. Sanjana stood beside the bed of a young girl she had operated on just a week ago.

Now, the little girl sat propped up with pillows, her cheeks rounder, her eyes brighter, and her tiny hands clutching the stuffed doll one of the nurses had given her.

“How are you feeling today, Diya?” Sanjana asked, her voice gentle as she checked the girl’s vitals on the chart.

“Better,” the girl said with a shy smile. Then the girl stared at her for a moment. “Nurse Ritu says you’re a maharani.”

Sanjana blinked, caught off guard. She smiled. “Well… yes,” she said softly. “I suppose I am.”

The little girl’s eyes widened, awe lighting her face. “Can doctors be maharanis too?”

“Of course.”

The girl’s smile widened, and she hugged her stuffed doll close. “Then I’ll be a doctor when I grow up.”

Sanjana laughed softly. “Eat well and grow stronger. You can achieve whatever you want.”

Waving at the little girl, Sanjana continued her rounds.

As she walked down the corridor, her gaze swept the bright hallway filled with children recovering from illness, their laughter and cries echoing faintly. And for the first time in a long while, she let herself imagine a child of her own.

Her breath caught.

The marriage contract with Ram demanded that she give him an heir. Cold words written on a piece of paper had infuriated her when she read them the first time. Yet now, the thought of carrying his child made her stomach flutter.

She had dreamt of having Ram’s children before. When they were together in college. She used to lie with her head on hischest, tracing idle patterns on his shirt, and tell him about wanting a big family. A noisy house filled with children because she had grown up with none.

He had always smiled then, tightening his arm around her and teasing,“As many as you want, my maharani.”

Her chest ached now, the memory bittersweet.

Exhaling deeply, she continued her shift.

Sometime during the afternoon, she took a break. But instead of spending it at her desk drinking a cup of chai, she shut the door and took out her phone.

She told herself this was foolish. She told herself to let the past stay buried. But her heart screamed for answers. With a sharp breath, she pulled up the number the security head had provided the previous evening. She pressed call.

The line rang once. Twice.

Then, a click.

“Hello?” The voice was impatient.

“Keya. This is Sanjana Shetty.”