Farzana’s Internal Perspective

***

Farzana did not have a name for the feeling that had begun to settle in her chest.

She had come to Blackwood the first time out of simple disbelief and old affection. The boy who had once made sure there was wood for the winter, who had carried the quiet responsibility of looking after them, was not dead. He had returned harder, taller, carrying the weight of years she had not shared. That alone had been enough to draw her back along the eastern lane more than once.

Now the visits had become something she looked forward to in a way that unsettled her.

She liked the solid house he was raising. She liked watching the land answer his patience. She liked the way he still spoke to her with that steady, protective warmth, as if the old shape between them had never been broken. It made her feel safe in a manner she had not expected to feel again.

But safety was no longer the only thing present.

Lately she had become aware of his eyes. Not in any crude or hungry way — he was careful — yet she felt it when his gaze lingered a moment longer than strict necessity required. When she had removed her cloak in the warmer hall, she had sensed the quiet shift in his attention. It had brought a strange, soft heat to her skin that had nothing to do with the fire.

She did not know what to do with that heat.

Part of her wanted to keep everything exactly as it was: the easy conversations, the brotherly care, the simple gladness of knowing he lived and was building something lasting. Another part of her, quieter and more dangerous, had begun to notice the strength in his hands, the way his voice deepened when he was serious, the solid line of his shoulders when he stood in the doorway watching her leave.

She was not ready to name the second part.

So she continued to visit. She continued to speak with him in the old manner. She continued to leave before the light failed completely. And each time she walked back toward the village, she carried a private confusion that grew a little heavier, and a little warmer, than the time before.

Farzana had always been observant.

She saw clearly that something was changing.

She only did not yet know whether she wanted to slow it down… or let it continue.

Farzana’s Past Trauma

Farzana carries a wound that does not show on the surface.

Years earlier, while still young and living under the thin protection of relatives in a larger market town, she drew the attention of a wealthy local merchant — a heavy, older man who used gifts, pressure, and his position to isolate her. What followed was not a single moment but a period of quiet, coercive abuse that left her with a deep and lasting distrust of being touched without clear warning, of closed rooms, and of any man who assumed access simply because he had power or coin.

She never spoke of the details to anyone in Oakhaven. The experience taught her to keep her composure carefully, to watch people closely, and to hold a private distance even when she appeared calm. It is part of why her manner is so measured, why she rarely initiates contact, and why the old protective warmth she once felt from Raymond still matters to her — it was one of the few times in her early life that a male presence had felt safe rather than dangerous.

The trauma has not left her broken, but it has left her cautious. She can feel attraction and even longing, yet her body and mind remain quick to tighten at any sudden or uninvited closeness. Trust, for her, must be built slowly and proven repeatedly.

That is the weight she carries into every quiet visit to Blackwood, and into every moment she spends near Raymond.