Carapherneilia

(n.) A broken-hearted disease that occurs whenever someone leaves you, but leaves all their things behind.

Georg didn't realise he was in love with the endearingly troublesome fräulein until she left.

He'd experienced a similar level of heartbreak before, arguably stronger, when his beloved Agathe had left him that fatal evening.

It had been a long night, as nights in the Von Trapp villa had been recently, and Georg was becoming more and more on edge. The love of his life was getting sicker by the second and there was nothing more he could do. There was also the struggle of being responsible for seven pre-adolescent children on his own, which was proving to be especially difficult lately as he tried his hardest to tend to his beautiful, sick wife at the same time.

The night she had passed away still haunts him to this day. How pale and lifeless she looked, Georg couldn't fathom why it had to be Agathe. The most selfless and humble person he knew. He'd never seen her so frail. She had so much more to give and so much more to see; it pained him knowing she wouldn't be there important milestones from Liesl's dance recitals to Gretl's first few steps. The only thing that sat right with him was that she was finally at peace, no longer in pain or suffering, but that, of course, didn't make the grief any less intense.

He loved her dearly, but he was angry. Angry at the world. Angry that she left him on his own. Angry that she left their seven beautiful children behind. Angry that God had betrayed him by taking her away. Angry that it had to be Agathe. Rather than dealing with his grief in an appropriate fashion, he shut himself in his study, deliberately away from everything that could remind him of her. The only time he would leave would be for the evening meal and to retire to his suite for the night.

That evening, he vowed he would never love again because he knew exactly how it felt to lose the one you hold dearest to your heart, only to have them leave, ripping your heart into millions of pieces, turning your world upside down...and that is exactly how he felt now.

Mar...Fräulein Maria had left in the middle of the night, without so much as a proper good bye or reason. All she left was a note, her dresses and the Von Trapps in despair. Maria's abrupt departure from the villa gave Georg his long awaited, and possibly poorly timed wake up call; he had fallen truly, madly and deeply in love with his soon-to-be-nun of a governess.

The morning after—the moment he became aware of her note—Georg ran straight up the stairs to the governess' room, finding the door was open slightly. In panic, he pushed the door open further to be hit with the harsh reality, Maria had indeed left.

Georg sat on the edge of her bed. What on earth caused her to leave so abruptly? Did he make her uncomfortable? Was he really that bad at reading her?

As he looked up, he noticed her wardrobe was open slightly and caught sight of the beautiful garments still hanging in there. Running his hand along them all, he began to mentally recall the first time he'd seen her wearing each dress...

First there was the beige dirndl, which he recalled was accompanied by a cream blouse with lacy detailing around the bottom of her sleeves and her collar.

She had just fallen off of that old rowing boat, straight into the lake- dripping wet, trying to swiftly walk away with the children. The soaking wet dirndl she wore when he dismissed her after he slipped up and called her 'captain' instead of 'fräulein' as a result of her passionate outburst for his children's happiness. Georg was so grateful she accepted his apology, for he wouldn't have known what to do if she had left that afternoon.

He was definite she hadn't worn it since.

The next dress that caught his eye was a yellow sundress. It had short, capped sleeves and it fell just below her knee.

The temperature was becoming more and more unbearable so a trip to the shady trees in the mountains was on the cards. She took a little longer to get ready, and was seen almost tripping over her own feet to meet them all at the bottom as soon as possible. To her embarrassment, Maria had slipped down the last few steps, in her desperate—and failed—attempt to be on time, only to be caught by a quick and worried Georg.

She was wearing a new dress, he was sure of it. It was soft, pretty and accentuated her petite frame perfectly. Yellow was definitely her colour: she was the human embodiment of sunshine and all things happy. He held her a little longer than necessary and both were unable to look away from the other's gaze. That was, of course, until a purposeful cough was heard...a certain Baroness Schraeder had arrived to say good bye to her captain before he embarked on his trip with the governess and his children.

The pretty, yellow sundress captured her youthful aura, but also her rare exposure of the femininity that she possessed.

He continued to flick through the different garments. There weren't many, how many dresses did a governess need? But she was clearly more than just 'the governess', and he loved how her face lit up when he bought her new materials. He was about to walk away and close the door when he caught a glimpse of a familiar blue pattern.

Indeed, the final garment he found in her wardrobe was her light blue chiffon dress, with the angel sleeves and subtle floral pattern—his favourite. He didn't realise it was his favourite until he had seen her walk into the room a few nights ago. The floaty skirt, the sleeves that looked like wings, the colour bringing out the gorgeous blue of her eyes. She was an actual goddess...or an angel, rather. After handing him her guitar, she moved to the back of the room, out of the way, and yet he still found his gaze looking for hers, despite the woman that he was courting sitting directly in front of him.

Georg had had enough of feeling sorry for himself. He had been doing that for the past four years, until she came a long, and he was beginning to fall back into a depression the longer he stayed in her room.

Despite vowing not to love anyone again, he realised it was inevitable, but he didn't appear to have any luck when it came to love: he lost his late wife to scarlet fever and the young fräulein to the abbey, both leaving behind things that were special to them. It broke his heart knowing that there was a possibility that he would never see the young woman again, even though he had slowly come to terms with his last wife's passing.

He still hadn't left Maria's room, and through the open window he could hear a sad, almost lamented rendition of Maria's kooky anthem being performed by his children. Then, almost instantly, he could hear a loud mixture of shrieking, shouting, laughing and singing; a familiar voice had joined in.

"Fräulein Maria, you've come back to us!"

There she was, standing in the middle of his children, kissing and hugging each and everyone of them. Georg swiftly made his way down to greet her.

Usually, when people left Georg's life, they never returned. Whether that be through no longer speaking or for more morbid reasons. She was the only one that came back, and he would be forever grateful for it.