A shiny black helicopter appeared over the horizon, descending steadily toward the open stretch of the lawns.
She sensed a shift in the air. Anticipation from the guests tightened into something almost electric. Security moved faster and became tighter. Even the chief minister straightened.
Yamini’s fingers stilled around her camera.
Who was coming?
Yamini wondered if it was another minister, someone more powerful than the chief minister. Was it the Prime Minister?
Just as she speculated, the helicopter lowered further, sunlight striking the gold-colored insignia along its side.
Her breath caught as she recognized that crest.
No.
For a moment, Yamini stared, unable to believe what she was seeing. It was the Royal crest.
Jogra royal crest.
As soon as her mind registered the fact, her spine went rigid. She stepped back instinctively, lowering her head and angling her face away, before slipping into the crowd.
Her pulse thundered as she watched from a safe distance.
Dust and wind spiraled as the helicopter touched down and the blades slowed.
A moment later, the door opened.
Expensive black boots touched the ground, and then he stepped out.
Tall and broad, he was dressed in a tailored dark suit and sunglasses. Security closed around him with seamless precision.
He began walking toward the entrance.
The air shifted among the crowd with breathless excitement and hushed conversations. The chief minister straightened further.
The organizing committee rushed forward. Their energy had changed, becoming alert.
Yamini couldn’t stop herself from looking.
Pooja leaned closer, awed. “That’s Maharaja Bharat Singh Jogra. I’ve never seen him in person. They say he owns more than half the steel industry in the country.”
Yamini didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond.
Her throat felt tight, and her hands trembled slightly, but she forced them steady and lifted the camera again.
As he passed near the edge of the crowd, she angled herself slightly away, focusing on her settings.
Don’t look. Don’t look, dammit.
He didn’t slow. He didn’t even glance in her direction. He walked right past her.
Only when he disappeared inside did Yamini release the breath she had been holding.
But her pulse didn’t settle.
“I was not prepared for this level of VVIP,” Pooja whispered excitedly. “A maharaja is the chief guest for the event!”
Yamini stared down at her camera, willing her hands to steady.
