Page 117 of Trapped By the Maharaja
They were escorted down the marble steps where Suchitra Devi stood waiting at the grand entrance, surrounded by Ram’s three brothers.
Ram’s brothers greeted her first.
“Bajen,” Bharat said with a polite nod.
“Bhabhi,” Samar said with a smile.
“Bhau,” Viraj said with an easy grin.
She smiled, greeting them back, feeling slightly at ease.
They greeted their brother next. And for a moment, Sanjana saw them not as royals but as brothers, teasing, respecting, anchoring one another.
Then Suchitra Devi stepped forward.
The air shifted. Authority radiated from her in waves. Draped in an indigo saree edged with silver, her presence was calm yet commanding. Her gaze fell first on Ram, softening for a fraction of a heartbeat before sliding to Sanjana.
Sanjana’s heart thudded under that scrutiny. It wasn’t openly hostile, nor was it warm. It was assessing, weighing, as though Suchitra Devi was trying to measure every inch of her and find her lacking.
A prickle ran down Sanjana’s skin.
Keya’s words from the phone call echoed in her mind. “An older woman… She promised me that if I did this, I could be the one to marry into the Devara family. That I would be Ram’s wife.”
Could it really be Suchitra Devi? Or it could also be Suchitra Devi’s trusted assistant, acting on her behalf?
Or maybe Keya was lying, making up stories to shift the blame.
Sanjana’s fingers clenched in the folds of her saree.
“Welcome home, Devara Maharaja and Maharani,” Suchitra Devi said finally, her voice smooth, commanding.
Sanjana dipped her head in greeting, forcing her expression into one of composure even as her heart thudded.
Suchitra Devi gestured, and together they ascended the steps into the grandeur of Rewa Palace.
Sanjana walked at Ram’s side, feeling his subtle but steady presence beside her, yet her focus kept drifting back to Suchitra Devi’s words, her unreadable gaze.
Sanjana had expected Suchitra Devi’s birthday to be a grand affair, with half the city’s elite in attendance. Even she knew how celebrated Suchitra Devi was in social circles.
But when they were ushered into the Rewa Palace dining room, she was surprised to find a quiet, private setting. The longtable had been arranged for an intimate afternoon meal—just Suchitra Devi, her four sons, and Sanjana.
Instead of a lavish banquet, the staff served a modest spread: silver dishes of curries, rice, and fresh breads, with a fruit cake waiting discreetly at the far end.
Sanjana smoothed the pleats of her peach saree as she took her seat beside Ram. Suchitra Devi sat at the head of the table, poised as ever, while Ram’s brothers filled the remaining chairs.
Sanjana kept her attention on her plate until Suchitra Devi spoke. “I heard you’ve taken charge of the pediatric wing expansion. How is it progressing?”
Sanjana lifted her head. “It’s progressing well, Your Highness. The funding is secured, and construction has already begun. We’ll be able to double the current capacity once it’s complete.”
Suchitra Devi’s gaze remained steady. “You handled the charity event well,” she added. “Raised more than enough for the Trust schools. I also heard your speech was… persuasive. The guests were generous.”
“Thank you, Your Highness.” she replied carefully, forcing her tone to remain polite.
Conversation shifted when the brothers picked up the thread, Viraj teasing his mother about receiving half the country’s flowers for her birthday. Samar chuckled quietly; even Bharat cracked the faintest smile. Suchitra Devi allowed the barest curl of her lips, and the room eased into a lighter rhythm.
When the cake was brought out at last, the brothers stood to wish their mother. Sanjana rose too, bowing her head respectfully as Suchitra Devi cut the first slice.
As she looked at Suchitra Devi’s regal, serene face, once again, doubts filled her.
