Author's POV :
One evening, as they sat in the courtyard of a small café, surrounded by the glow of traditional lamps and the chatter of locals, Praneeksha decided to playfully challenge Aatish's knowledge of languages. She leaned in and whispered something in Kannada, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Aatish's brows furrowed in confusion, and she couldn't resist the urge to giggle. "What did you say?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"I said," Praneeksha repeated in Kannada, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "Nim voice andre nange tumba ishta."
(I love your voice)
Aatish stared at her, utterly perplexed. "What does that mean?" he asked, his curiosity now mixed with a hint of irritation.
"I won't say," Praneeksha replied, this time in English, her smile mischievous. "It's a secret language, just between us."
Aatish couldn't hide his intrigue, but he also knew not to push. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, watching her with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. "Alright, I'll let you keep your secret for now," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But I'll have to learn Kannada just to understand what's going on in that clever mind of yours."
As they shared a laugh, Praneeksha's phone began to ring, the familiar ringtone jolting her back to reality. She excused herself and stepped away from the table to take the call. It was her mother, her voice filled with warmth and concern. Mrs. Bhat spoke rapidly in Kannada, updating Praneeksha on the happenings back home and reminding her to eat well and take care of herself.
"Amma, naan chanagidini," Praneeksha assured her, switching to their mother tongue. "And naanu chanage oota maadtidini, don't worry."
(Amma, I'm fine. And I'm eating well, don't worry)
Aatish sat at the table, his eyes following her, his mind racing. He had always prided himself on his understanding of people, but Praneeksha remained a delightful enigma. Her language, her grace, the way she carried herself - it was all so different from the girls he had known in his sheltered life. Yet, he couldn't deny the attraction he felt towards her, a pull that was as mysterious as it was undeniable.
Her Kannada whisper had left him feeling both intrigued and slightly inadequate. He had studied multiple languages, including English and Hindi, but Kannada was not one of them. He made a mental note to rectify this immediately, driven by the desire to understand the secrets she held close to her heart.
After talking to her mother, Praneeksha turned to him with a soft smile, her eyes glowing with affection. "Amma says she's proud of me," she said, her voice a gentle caress.
Aatish felt a warmth spread through him at her words. He hadn't realized how much he had been craving the connection she offered, a connection that transcended the boundaries of his rigid royal life. "Your mother sounds like a wise woman," he said, returning her smile.
The thought of revealing his identity to Praneeksha had been weighing on him heavily. He knew that the moment he told her the truth, everything could change. Would she see him as the same person, or would the weight of his title overshadow the bond they had forged? He decided to wait, to let their friendship grow stronger before dropping the bombshell.
On the last day of rehearsals, Mrs. Shriya Singh Rajvansh, the Managing Director of the college that had organized the competition and Aatish's mother, arrived with an air of poise and authority. She had come to meet the participants, to wish them luck and offer her words of wisdom. Her sharp gaze swept over the group, and she nodded in approval at the diversity and talent gathered before her.
