Her father raised an eyebrow.
Ramesh Appa added quickly, "Not asking you for money again. I've learnt. Just… if you know someone who might buy the place, help me find them. That's all."
The room was quiet for a long beat.
Then Banni's father leaned back, nodding slowly.
> "And I'll start a small grocery shop too. Not with loans. Just whatever is left from my savings. Near the bus stop, I think. That corner always had movement."
No talk of dreams.
No mentions of visions.
But both men knew they had seen something, and it had moved them.
And neither wanted to fail each other again.
---
Banni, listening quietly from her room, didn't ask either.
She didn't need to.
She knew what had changed.
Not their faces.
Not their pride.
But the direction of their steps.
The second exam came faster than expected.
The pressure didn't scream this time. It whispered. A soft urgency wrapped in the rhythm of revision pages and sharpened pencils.
Banni reached the exam center with less tension than before. Her father dropped her again, same bike, same routine — but this time, no juice stop, no conversation.
Just a firm nod, and a quiet, "All the best."
She smiled. "Thanks, Appa."
---
Inside the hall, the atmosphere was a mix of fear and fake confidence.
Science.
A subject that made some feel brilliant — and others blank out.
The question paper was split into two parts:
Section A: 20 Multiple Choice Questions
Section B: Short and long answer questions
Fifty percent recall. Fifty percent explanation.
Exactly fifty-fifty.
---
Banni glanced at Section A.
> "Which of the following is not a function of the root?" "The chemical used in the test of proteins is —" "Which organelle is called the powerhouse of the cell?"
She smiled slightly.
Magical Space Recall Mode: ON.
She didn't even have to think too hard — her brain had stored images, textbook lines, voice recall.
It wasn't a shortcut. She had studied.
The Magical Space had just polished her clarity.
Within fifteen minutes, she circled all 20 MCQs with confidence.
She looked around.
Other students were scratching their heads.
She bent over Section B.
---
Short answers. Definitions. Diagrams.
One question about photosynthesis. Another about Newton's third law. One long answer about acid-base neutralization in everyday life.
And as she began to write, something clicked.
She didn't feel like a student anymore.
She felt like someone teaching herself as she wrote.
---
Two hours passed in smooth flow.
The invigilator's voice rang out: "Last 15 minutes!"
Banni checked her answers. Clean handwriting. Neatly drawn diagram. Page numbers filled. Hall ticket number written.
She folded the last page with a breath of relief.
> This wasn't just a good exam.
It was a proof — that her mind had changed.
Not with magic.
But with discipline, clarity, and a second chance.
---
As she walked out, Kriti joined her.
"How was it?!"
"Fifty-fifty," Banni said, smiling. "Fifty percent memory, fifty percent understanding."
"And?"
"Hundred percent peace," she replied.
Maths.
The word alone made Banni's stomach twist.
It wasn't that she hated it — but it didn't come naturally. Formulas, logic, equations — they seemed to blur in her mind, especially under pressure.
The Science exam was over. The next mountain was here.
And this one looked steep.
---
That afternoon, after lunch, Banni had just opened her math notes, ready to feel confused again — when the door creaked open.
Her cousin brother stepped inside.
It was unusual.
He rarely entered her room unless it was to borrow a charger or scold her for watching serials during revision.
But today, he looked… different.
No phone in hand. No headphones. No laziness in his posture.
He walked in and said softly, "So… maths next, huh?"
She nodded slowly, cautious.
He sat beside her on the floor. "Can I help?"
Banni blinked. "You… want to help me with maths?"
He shrugged, looking away. "I've been good at it… always. Maybe the only subject I never needed help with."
Then after a pause, he added:
> "Let me at least do this right… for once."
---
At first, she was unsure.
But then… he started explaining.
Not in the way teachers did. Not like those strict tutors.
But like a big brother who knew where she got stuck.
He broke things into pieces.
Taught her one formula. Then gave her three examples.
When she messed it up, he didn't laugh. He rephrased it again.
> "Imagine the number as your pocket money. Would you spend all at once? Or break it into parts?"
She laughed. "Parts, of course."
"Exactly. That's what LCM is."
---
For the first time in weeks, maths felt fun.
Even her Magical Space seemed to relax in the background — letting her cousin take the lead.
He didn't talk about the dream he had seen.
But Banni knew.
She could feel it — he had seen her pain. Her memories. Their father's quiet sacrifices.
And now, he wasn't asking for forgiveness.
He was giving help, without waiting to be thanked.
---
As the clock hit 6:30 PM, Banni had revised all the important chapters:
Profit and Loss
Time and Work
Geometry Basics
Algebra Patterns
Word Problems
She looked at her cousin as he closed the book.
> "Thank you," she said softly.
He looked at her with tired eyes, but a faint smile.
> "You score well… it'll feel like I passed too."
Then he got up and left.
No drama.
Just a small step toward change.
---
That night, Banni opened her Magical Space and whispered:
> "Please store today's maths revision under memory bank. Tag it: 'Effort by Brother.'"
The golden voice replied softly:
> "Stored. Tag recognized. Emotional connection noted."
And Banni smiled.
Because sometimes, healing didn't come with big talks.
It came with one pencil, one formula, and a brother finally deciding:
> "Let me be useful. Let me matter again."
Perfect! Let's move ahead with Chapter 28, where Banni appears for her Hindi and Kannada exams — her first language and second language. These two subjects hold emotional weight for her, and now, with Magical Space guiding her growth and her inner peace rising, she approaches them with new strength.
---
Chapter 28: The Words That Belong to Her
The air in the house was calm again.
The last two exams on Banni's timetable were not about numbers or logic.
They were about language.
About expression.
About memory.
About emotion.
First came Hindi.
---
📘 Hindi Exam Day
The paper had three parts:
Reading Comprehension
Grammar
Creative Writing & Literature
Banni took a deep breath before starting. The comprehension passage was about childhood and changing values — something she could deeply relate to.
> As she read it, she smiled softly.
Her own life had changed in just weeks — from uncertain silence to purposeful steps.
She answered the questions with ease.
---
The grammar section — once a headache — became simple with Magical Space recall.
Sandhi, Samas, Patra Lekhan — each part gently guided by her training.
But it was the creative writing that gave her soul space to breathe.
One essay topic caught her eye:
> "Parivartan – Ek Naya Aghaz"
(Change – A New Beginning)
She didn't think.
She just wrote.
Not as a student.
But as Banni — a girl who saw change in her family, her brother, and in herself.
She ended her essay with a line straight from her heart:
> "Parivartan vah darpan hai jo humein hamari asli shakl dikhata hai — jab hum taiyaar hote hain badalne ke liye."
(Change is that mirror which shows us our true self — when we're ready to see it.)
---
She walked out of the hall with a soft smile.
Hindi was done.
And she had written not for marks — but from meaning.
---
📚 Kannada Exam Day
Kannada was different.
It was home.
She had grown up speaking it, dreaming in it, thinking in it.
And now… it was the last subject of her exam journey.
Her mother tongue, her comfort zone.
---
The question paper was warm and familiar.
Sahitya bhaga – literature
Vyakarana – grammar
Rachane – writing and comprehension
A poem question asked for the meaning of lines from Nanna Desha — the same one she had taught Rithika just days ago.
She smiled and remembered how she'd explained it:
> "Nanna desha antha helodu illa... adu thiliyabekagiruva anubhava..."
(My land is not just something I can describe — it's something to be felt.)
She wrote the answer with joy.
---
The essay question asked:
> "Nimma jeevanadalli ondu anubhavavannu varnisiri."
(Describe an experience from your life.)
Without hesitation, she began writing about the time she helped a classmate just before Kannada — how it made her feel seen, heard, and strong.
Her handwriting was steady. Her thoughts were clear.
---
When the final bell rang and the papers were collected, Banni leaned back and closed her eyes.
Six exams.
Six different journeys.
Six different victories.
---
As she walked out, she didn't look for her father or cousin.
She just looked at the sky.
And whispered to herself:
> "I did it."