-you have been moved to Grangeville in Normandy during the early occupation due to war circumstances

You didn't choose Grangeville because it was exciting quite the opposite. It was small, quiet, out of the way. Safe enough, at least in theory.

At first, you feel trapped by how slow everything seems here. You're restless, full of energy, while the villagers look at you like you're a storm blowing through their calm routine.

But that restlessness doesn't make you hate the place. In fact, you grow fond of it quickly the cobblestone streets, the tiny market, the way everyone knows each other's name.

You secretly enjoy the quietness of the countryside. It's a relief compared to the chaos outside. You'd never admit it out loud, but sometimes you catch yourself smiling just watching the fields sway in the wind.

Still, your reckless energy makes you stand out. You're too loud for Grangeville. You speak too quickly, laugh too easily, sing when you're alone but not quiet enough

You quickly become the go-to person for letters, official notices, and anything in German. Farmers bring you documents they can't understand, mothers bring you letters from sons at the front, sometimes Mr. Tissier ask you to read supply lists.

German orders or French administration papers? You handle them, making sure people don't get cheated or punished over a misunderstanding.

You're always surrounded by kids. They like your energy, and you make learning English or German feel like a game.

you just do too much. Carrying firewood for someone twice your age, fetching water, running errands, even helping patch roofs. You can't sit still, so people always see you doing something.

You don't just sit behind a desk you're out in the fields helping carry baskets, you're fixing signs, you're the one humming loudly while scrubbing clothes in the river

-Villagers call you “the whirlwind” because you never slow down.

Some think you're suspicious(especially durand), too worldly, too good with words. Others think you're a blessing, someone who makes their lives easier.

Kids adore you. Old folks shake their heads at your recklessness. The young adults envy how you get away with saying things they'd never dare say in front of the soldiers.

Some worry your boldness will draw German attention (they're not wrong).

Others admire how you don’t shrink, even under occupation.

Even the Germans stationed there notice you. You're not afraid to speak to them, sometimes too boldly, and it makes you stand out even more.

-You don't realize it, but lately The Colonel sees you more often than you think.

Sometimes in the square, sometimes helping kids with homework, sometimes hauling books bigger than your head.

His expression never changes, but there's a flicker of curiosity in his eyes when you switch between languages like it's nothing.

To him, you're reckless but you're also… useful. Different.

-People appreciate your translation work, though. One day you're helping a farmer read a German order, the next you're singing an English tune while heading back to your apartment.

You don't notice the wary eyes at first, you didn't care actually but you didn't know it was Durand eyes that watches yoy

You catch him staring once while you're humming in English. You grin and wave he scowls.

-Not long after Durand reports you directly to Colonel Von Krieger, insisting you must be American.

You have no idea, of course you're just living your chaotic life

The knock at your door isn't gentle. It's a soldier's knock sharp, demanding.

they didn't even give you time to get down the stairs as they rushed into the house and there he is Colonel Von Krieger, flanked by armed men.

"You will come with us," he says, voice like steel.

Your stomach drops. This is it. You're being taken.

But before they can grab you, your mouth betrays you. Words tumble out in a frantic mess:

"Wait! I'm not American!!, I'm a translator—look, I speak French, English, German, Italian—here, listen!—"

You don't stop. You rattle off a sentence in German, switch to English, back to French, then into other languages who knows them

The soldiers look confused, but Von Krieger? He just stares.

There's silence after your ramble, the kind that makes your pulse pound.

Then, he says flatly: "Reckless. But talented."

He orders his men to stand down.

As he turns to leave, his eyes linger on you a moment longer. "Be careful. Not everyone will be so patient."

And just like that, he's gone. Leaving you shaken, breathless… and oddly curious about him.

-After the incident where you blurted out your languages, Von Krieger makes a note of you.

A week later, a soldier comes knocking at your door with a blunt order "You are required at the Colonel's office."

Just like that, your village life shifts. You're not just a helpful translator anymore you're now their translator.

It feels less like a job and more like being drafted into their system...

-You begin to hear whispers in the village that you've somehow 'caught the colonel’s attention.' say what now?-🤨

-Every time you're summoned, you have to drag yourself across town to the outpost.

At first, you grumble the whole way kicking stones, muttering in three different languages under your breath, even singing just to spite the soldiers watching you.

The villagers whisper when they see you pass by:

"She's going to the Colonel again…"

"Is she working with them?"

"No, no, she's forced but still, she's too close."

The stares burn, but you lift your chin and keep walking

-He doesn't seek you out often, but when he does, the encounters are sharp, brief, and unforgettable... and of course you had to drag yourself all the way from the village to his office

Sometimes he asks you to translate, his gaze testing you like he's waiting for you to slip.

-with the time you get used to him You can't help but tease him now and then. "Careful, Colonel, you'll wear a hole in the cobblestones if you keep pacing like that." His soldiers nearly choke, but he only arches a brow.... you are such an embarrassed lol

-You notice his gaze softens when you help children with their homework outside the office. Once, he even lingered by the window longer than necessary.

-with the time too your space between you two start to shift At first, he stands across the desk, arms folded, a wall of authority.

Later, he moves closer sometimes looking over your shoulder at the documents, sometimes standing beside you as you explain a translation.

The first time you feel his presence that close, your heart skips. You pretend it doesn't. He pretends not to notice.

-Once, after a long session, you blurt out "Do you ever get tired of all this?" expecting silence.

Instead, he says quietly "More often than you think."

It's brief, but it feels like a door cracked open. You never forget it.

From then on, you ask more daring questions. Sometimes he answers. Sometimes he just studies you, as if weighing how much of himself to reveal

-sure He doesn't say he's closer. He doesn't smile, doesn't soften his words.

But in the way he lingers when you leave, in the way his eyes follow you in the village square, in the way he no longer calls you 'translator' but instead uses your name…

You know. He's letting you in, piece by piece