Yamini was stunned.
“Marriage contract?” she repeated.
“Yes,” he continued. “You may review the terms tonight. Any clarifications can be addressed tomorrow morning. The agreement is scheduled for execution at noon.”
Tomorrow. At noon?
“If you have any immediate questions, you may contact my office directly,” the lawyer said. “Have a good evening, Your Highness.”
The call ended.
Yamini stared at her phone.
What the hell is happening?
The doorbell rang.
She nearly jumped.
Inhaling deeply, she walked slowly towards the door and opened it to find a uniformed courier holding a thick, rectangular, sealed envelope.
“Ms. Yamini Dhar?” he asked.
“Y-Yes.”
He handed it to her with both hands. The envelope was heavy.
She signed the electronic pad, thanked the courier, and shut the door.
She placed it on the work table and sat down. The seal caught her eye immediately. A gold-embossed insignia pressed into the black wax.
The Jogra crest.
She stared at it for a long moment, her heart thudding unevenly. Then she broke the seal.
Inside was a thick black folder, smooth and cool under her fingertips. She lifted it out and opened it.
There were at least a hundred pages. Neatly printed, perfectly aligned, and on crisp white paper with sharp black text.
At the top of the first page, in bold letters.
MARRIAGE CONTRACT AND LEGAL TERMS
Below that.
Between: Maharaja Bharat Singh Jogra and Princess Yamini Gaur
Her breath caught as she saw her name beside his, printed cleanly and decisively, as though it belonged there, as though it had always been meant to.
For a moment, she simply stared.
Then she turned the page. And another.
Her eyes began to move faster, skimming through dense paragraphs filled with clauses, conditions, timelines, financial provisions, expectations of public conduct, and succession terms that seemed to go on without pause.
It didn’t stop. It continued page after page.
Yamini shut the folder halfway, her thoughts racing now, no longer scattered but trying to make sense of this.
