His wife.
The word settled in his mind with a weight he had not anticipated. Not unwelcome. Simply unexpected in its persistence. He had expected it to sit like any other fact. Noted, filed, moved past.
It hadn't.
He adjusted his cufflink and looked down at the city as his mind recalled the events of the past two days with clarity.
He had been seated when she walked into the law office conference room. He heard the precise moment her steps came to an immediate stop when she saw him.
She hadn’t expected him to be there.
She sat across from the lawyers but spent most of her time glaring at him rather than listening to them or looking at the documents.
When the heirs clause was discussed, she asked for two heirs instead of one.
He had registered the request and the tone in which it was delivered. Casual. Almost offhand. The tone people used when they were trying to provoke a reaction, while appearing not to care about the outcome.
He had approved the addition.
She had stared at him after that, waiting for something he didn't give her.
When she signed the contract, her hand was steady. He had noted that.
She made a comment on the way out about not running away this time. It was deliberate and aimed precisely, looking for a crack.
There was none to find.
The next morning, he had arrived at the mountain temple forty minutes before her helicopter landed. He preferred that. Early arrival allowed him to map the space, account for variables, and settle into the environment. He had stood at the entrance and watched the helicopter descend.
She had stepped out and stopped immediately. He noted the brief stillness, the way her chin lifted as she looked at the mountains. Then the way her posture changed as her gaze moved to the temple.
She had thought he wouldn't come.
He had read it clearly in the set of her shoulders. The careful way she stood, spine straight, chin up, hands curled at her sides. The expression of someone preparing themselves for an outcome they had already accepted. He had seen it before in boardrooms when a deal was already known to be lost. People prepared their faces in advance.
She had prepared hers.
When the wind hit, she shielded her face, then lowered her hand and saw him. The change was immediate. Her feet stopped. Her body went rigid. Not fear exactly. More like the specific shock of someone whose calculation had been completely wrong.
She had walked toward him anyway. Each step deliberate and steady, even when her thoughts clearly were not.
She called it a ridiculous reason when he told her why he was there. He hadn't argued. Reasons didn't change facts. She had said yes, and he had turned toward the temple and heard her follow without looking back.
Rewa Palace had been predictable in its complications.
His grandmother had said exactly what she thought. She always did, even when its contents were unpleasant. Especially then,
What had required more processing was Yamini's face during those moments. She had held herself completely still. No visible distress. Her jaw set, her eyes steady.
When he had told his grandmother the outcome, there was visible shock in Yamini’s face. As though she didn’t expect him to speak up.
He had felt the tremors within her as he guided her through the corridor afterward. Very faint. Barely perceptible. She wouldn't have known he noticed. Most people wouldn't have. He noticed small things. He always had.
Although Sanjana’s presence had calmed her, Yamini’s shoulders stiffened again during the ride to the Jogra Palace.
She had nodded stiffly when he told her he wouldn’t be joining for dinner because of his meetings.
The wedding night was harder to categorize, and his mind moved to it now with the same precision he applied to everything else.
