Yamini gasped as he pulled away from her. He stood rigidly beside the bed, every muscle locked in tension while his chest rose in shallow, controlled breaths.
His gaze fell between her thighs, and his jaw clenched.
“You will take a morning-after pill tomorrow,” he said, his voice cold. “A doctor will attend to you.”
Yamini was shocked. “What? Why should I do that? We both want a child.”
His face remained cold, yet his fingers curled into a fist. “According to the contract, I decide when I get my heir,” he said. “Not you.”
Yamini froze for a moment before she sat up in fury. “You are such a cold, controlling bastard!” she hissed.
He didn’t react to her fury. He simply looked at her. “You broke the contract rules,” he said.
She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “Fuck your rules and shove them up your ass!”
The soft pillow bounced off harmlessly on his muscled chest.
He didn’t flinch. He put on his robe in a smooth move. “Rules exist for a reason,” he said. “Ours is a contract marriage built on those rules.”
The words hit like a slap.
She watched in silent fury as he crossed the room toward the connecting door. He paused at the doorway.
“Dr. Bhatt will attend to you in the morning. Follow her instructions.”
His voice held a warning and command.
And then the connecting door shut behind him.
Yamini stared at the intricate carvings on the door until her vision blurred.
Her nails bit into her palms as tears stung her eyes.
She blinked them away furiously.
She would not cry over this.
She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth and held it there until the burning behind her eyes subsided.
The contract. He had reduced everything, her body, their marriage, and the child she wanted, to contract terms and scheduled obligations.
She looked at the pendant on her chest, still warm from her skin.
She pulled it off and set it on the nightstand without looking at it.
Then she lay down, pulled the sheet up, and stared at the ceiling in the dark.
Cold, controlling bastard.
This time, she meant with no confusion underneath it.
???
Yamini arrived at breakfast at 9:14.
She had not slept. Or rather, she had slept the way people do when their body gives up before their mind. In short, shallow intervals that left her more exhausted than the wakefulness. She had stared at the ceiling for most of the night, the pendant on the nightstand catching occasional moonlight, the connecting door closed and silent on the other side.
She had not put the pendant back on.
