Page 17 of Trapped By the Maharaja

The sun set when the helicopter landed on the private helipad in front of the Devara Palace.

Sanjana stepped out with her work files in one hand and a bag in another. She had picked up some of her things from her apartment.

Refusing to hand over her bag to the security, she stepped into the palace’s main entrance.

The palace staff were waiting for her inside.

“Your Highness, welcome,” one said, bowing deeply. “We’ll assist you in changing for the evening meal.”

Another reached for her bag. A third stepped forward with a silver tray offering water and a drink in crystal glasses.

Sanjana shook her head.

“Thank you, but I don’t need your assistance,” she said. “I’ll get ready on my own.”

They hesitated, blinking.

One of them, the youngest, whose name Sanjana remembered as Kumari, glanced nervously at the others before speaking in a careful voice. “Your Highness… we were instructed to assist you personally. If we don’t help, we could get into trouble.”

Sanjana saw their anxious faces and sighed.

“Fine,” she said, handing her bag. “Please hang the clothes in the closet.”

Relief flashed across their faces, and they moved to work quickly and quietly.

Sanjana drank water from the crystal glass and placed it back carefully on the tray. She then climbed up the steps on the grand staircase and then walked along the long corridor and went into the master suite.

Her heart thudded when she stepped in. But when she didn’t see Ram inside, she let out a small, relieved sigh. She needed some time before she faced Ram’s dominating presence.

Retrieving her night clothes that were hung neatly in the walk-in closet, she stepped into the bathroom.

She took a hot shower, hoping the heat would wash away her nervousness and anger. But the nervous flutter in her stomach remained.

When she finally emerged into the master suite, two maids froze and let out a gasp, staring at her.

They were looking at her clothes.

For a moment, she didn’t understand, and then it struck her that they were shocked by what she was wearing. She was wearing simple cotton pajamas and not the silk nightgowns or lace robes from the curated wardrobe that was appropriate for the maharaja’s bride.

She said nothing. Just arched an eyebrow in challenge.

They averted their eyes.

A delicious aroma filled with delicate spices filled the air.

The older maid, Latita, cleared her throat and pointed to a small carved wooden dining table set in a corner of the suite, now elegantly arranged with silver cloches, brass dishes, and crystal tumblers.

“Dinner has been served here, Your Highness,” she said. “On the Maharaja’s orders. His Highness will be arriving late.”

Sanjana exhaled, relieved she had some more time to herself.

She nodded. “Thank you, Lalita and Kumari. You may leave. I can sever myself.”

They hesitated a moment before bowing and leaving quietly.

Alone at last, Sanjana went to the table, uncovering the aromatic dish, her stomach growling despite her storming mind.

She sat down and ate in silence. But even as she enjoyed the food, her stomach continued to flutter nervously.

Her thoughts remained on the ruthless maharaja who was now her husband.

Would he ignore her again tonight with cold indifference? Or would he claim his rights for the sake of an heir?

The uncertainty made her nervous and angry. Pushing away her thoughts of Ram, she cleared up the eaten dishes and covered the rest before getting up.

She finished her nightly routine. But instead of going to bed, even though she had a long day, she picked up the patient files and went to the sitting area in the corner and sat on the ornately carved, long velvet couch.

She read the files for a long while until the grandfather clock rang somewhere in the grand hall, indicating it was midnight.

Ram hadn’t returned yet.

Was he with someone else? Another woman?

Her chest constricted before she shoved the feeling away.

I don’t care if he is with someone else.

Taking a deep breath, she continued looking at the files. She read by lamplight, clinging to her identity as a doctor, not as the trapped bride of a maharaja.

She kept reading until her eyes blurred, until exhaustion dragged her down. She finally drifted into uneasy sleep on the velvet couch, her files scattered around her.

I hate him.