He left her after all. He had to. He had responsibilities. First and foremost.
At times, Georg wondered if he always had an excuse for himself. Will he always be able to justify his cowardly actions that had no end in sight in his life. Every time he found a new and more sophisticated way to hurt the people he loved, this night was no exception.
The noise of the guests did not lessen his suffering, but only increased it. His head was splitting, what he wanted was to be somewhere very far away.
But God,his heart ached more. Clenched every time he thought of her.
Her skin was sweet. Honey and milk. Her hands are gentle, inexperienced touching him, exploring.
A shiver ran down his skin. His fingertips ached and tingled, as if wanting to feel her softness beneath him again. It was torture. To think of her like this, she'd given herself to him, given herself to him, and what did she get in return?
Was he a scoundrel, the lowest and hollowest man in the world? Oh, definitely. Leaving her there alone in the library after all they'd shared. He wondered how far they would have gone if they hadn't been interrupted.
How far he would go.
She was so inexperienced, yet so fiery. Wild and unbridled.
His.
Thoughts swirled around in his head like a storm the rest of the evening, he was aloof. No one tried to strike up a conversation with him, and even if they had, they would have been met with a blank stare and a couple of polite nods of the head.
So, in his confusion, he hardly noticed that all his guests one by one began to leave his house. The colourful party was just a reminder. A couple of glasses of half-drunk champagne, someone's forgotten shawl. All gone, leaving only a bitter aftertaste. The villa was quiet and peaceful again, the light of the lamps seemed to burn less brightly than before, and the night penetrated into every corner.
He wondered what would happen after that. What would happen tomorrow at breakfast? Would she come? Would she run back to the convent? That seemed more likely than her staying behind to share his bed.
He looked away from Elsa, there she was, sitting beside him, sprawled out on one of the sofas in the living room. Radiantly dazzling in that dress, she was slowly exhaling puffs of smoke, looking at the patterns on the carpet, he tried to squeeze out a semblance of a smile. How could she live with him?
How could he live like that.
"Darling," the words came out of him on their own, I think, "I think..." he wasn't sure he was even capable of doing that, his brain had turned to mush and hadn't produced an ilk of a proper thought in the last couple of hours.
That was how it ended. It started with his uncertain words, and ended with her kissing him goodbye.
The parting was not as painful as he had imagined; in fact, deep in his heart, Georg realised that Elsa guessed, and even if she didn't, she understood that they would not be able to keep what they had built together. This flimsy relationship had broken down, fallen in the wind, scattered like mastered sheets at their feet.
She promised to pack her things and go home at once. He didn't dissuade her. It was for the best. For both of them. He didn't want to torture her, didn't want to torture himself.
Elsa saved him when he was drowning, helping him get out of the water alive and unharmed. Maria taught him to breathe again. She gave him the long-awaited freedom, the desire to enjoy every minute of his life again. That was the difference.
He remained seated in the living room.
You're pathetic, Georg.
Guilt, shame, a desire for self-pity, all enveloped him in an instant.
He needed to clear his head, to get rid of everything, to decide what to do next.
Did he love her?
Yes. Yes, he loved her. Over all these months, feelings for her had sprouted in him, wrapped a vine around his heart, digging its thorns into him.
Could he have hoped that she would accept him. After what he'd done, after he'd shown her what kind of man he really was.
He needed air. He needed to clear his head. Get those shamefully unpleasant thoughts out of his head. How could he, when all his heart wanted was to be near her again.
Almost aimlessly, he began his walk around the villa.
He stopped for a moment, allowing himself to savour the way the dark night sky, where the moon was revealing its soft light like a silver cover enveloped him. He watched the moonbeams caressing the surface of the quiet calm lake like the gentle kisses of fond memories. The reflection of the moonlight, spread across the smooth water like magical threads weaving pastel shades. The dark water depths become like a mysterious crystal mirror in which secret dreams and desires are reflected.
And so, Georg stands by the water, his gaze fixed on the endless distance, where the moonlight invites him to travel along the water's surface. In this light, every glimmer reminds him of her. Of her soft features, her gentle smiles, her fleeting glances. It was as if she was there, inviting him to plunge into her aquatic embrace. Calling him to the tenderness and caress he knew only she could give him.
You follow me everywhere, Maria. You don't give me a single chance to hide from you. You fill everything around me with you.
He continued on his way, his steps were slow and measured, but his heart was pounding wildly in his chest, as if preparing him for something incredibly important.
And hat's how he found her, on a bench by the gazebo.
Somehow Georg knew where he was going, as if the path had been laid out a long time ago and all he had to do was follow it. But wasn't that always the case with her, he would find her where she was waiting for him.
Should he come over? Should he leave her there alone, give her time and space for personal reflection?
He walked slowly, approaching almost on tiptoe for fear of scaring her away, while giving her a chance to notice him, and to chase him away if necessary.
Their gazes crossed. He could see her so clearly in the moonlight, as if she were glowing. Everything about her seemed so beautiful. She was beautiful, his sweet, gentle lover.
He left her after all. He left. Left her alone, muttering something about not being able to leave his guests like that. She understood.
No, it's a lie.
She didn't understand anything. Why he did it. At that moment, so many feelings were mixed up in her that she was afraid she might burst.
She wanted to cry, but a stupid sense of pride kept her from doing so. She would not cry for this man. But God, how her heart ached.
How long she stood there, waiting for him to come for her again. He would walk through that door, pull her to him, and promise never to let her go again.
He never came.
She settled herself on one of the sofas, not knowing what to do next except to sit there obediently. This was her penance, she knew. The waiting. Not knowing what would happen next.
I wonder if he was thinking about her at that moment. No, of course not.
It's what she would have wanted, what she'd dreamed of, but it clearly wasn't what he could do.
She wanted to pray, but realised that now was probably not the best time, and it was unlikely that her prayers would be answered. Maria sadly realised that all she could do now was sit quietly and watch the clock's hand move mercilessly slowly.
And so an hour passed. An hour in silence and thought, which, like wolves, devoured her from within, giving her no chance to hide or escape.
All the beauty of the evening dissolved like a haze as soon as he left the library. And there she was again. Alone and forsaken.
Maria realised that never in her life had she ever cared about being alone. Until now. Now she needed comfort, needed someone to tell her that everything would be all right, that she could handle everything.
But there was no such person.
I wonder if the children are already asleep.
The children.
Guilt came over her with renewed vigour. She'd let them down. How would she be able to look them in the eye tomorrow, how would she be able to pretend everything was okay. She wasn't. She's not okay.
They wouldn't forgive her. She'd be disgusting to them. Who'd want a governess like that? All the trust and friendship that had grown between them over the summer would crumble.
And the Baroness. Maria brought her hand up to cover her eyes. She'd almost caught them. How ba she would react when she found them, just like that, in the middle of a party. A party in her honour. A party at which the governess clung desperately to her employer, seeking relief from something she herself didn't understand.
Maybe it would be easier if they got caught.
Then she would know what to do next. He would have told her.
Completely lost in her musings, she was almost unaware of her movements, somehow she found herself on the street.
How much time has passed? Is the party over?
She needed to hide. Was she running away from her problems again? Maybe. But that's all she knew. She needed a place where she'd be alone. Where he wouldn't find her.
She still wanted him to find her. This strange almost unnatural need for this man was driving her crazy. what he'd done to her to make her so desperate for him. Oh, she knew exactly what he'd done.
She still didn't fully realise what she was doing. Just continuing on her pointless path, knowing it was for the best. She needed to clear her head. Need to occupy herself with something, give her restless thoughts a rest.
Why she always caused so many problems. Why couldn't God show her the right path to follow.
God left you the moment you walked into that library.
A light breeze blew, bringing her a strange relief. She still felt like she was on fire.
His hands know their way round, touching her. He kisses her.
She could feel herself blushing, the stark contrast of the heat of her shek, and the cool night air. She wanted to fall through the earth.
But in that moment, all I felt was bliss. How could something so graceful cause me so much pain in the aftermath?
As if in a fog, she reached the bench near the gazebo. She couldn't walk anymore. Her body strangely decided that she needed to sit down.
What would she do next, the thought was perhaps the most pressing right now. She wouldn't be able to stay here. He'd want her to. No, she wouldn't be able to hide her feelings the way he did, if he had any feelings for her.
He would want her to stay. She did. But as what. The governess to his children in the sunlight and his mistress in the dark of night.
She knew how it worked, she may have been innocent in her own way, but she knew this case wouldn't be the first or last time this happened. That was the way his world worked
How it would be, she wondered. Would he be as cold to her as he had always been at the day before, or would he be as tender and ardent as he had been in the library. Would he have allowed her to see the real him, to know who Georg von Trapp really was.
There was only one problem, not significant to him, but colossal to her.
He only wanted her body, she was willing to give him her heart and soul.
That was the difference. She knew she'd give him anything he wanted from her. She let him destroy himself, with those delicate lips that whispering her name against her skin. But she would die slowly, die every time he left her, as he did now.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a rustling.
Dear Lord, haven't I suffered enough today.
She wanted and dreaded it.
There he was, standing there staring at her, not daring to approach. Maybe he was just a figment of her imagination. Maria didn't know what to believe anymore. He was staring right at her, burning holes in her.
Her thoughts and feelings at that moment were similar to those she experienced while watching the sunrise on her mountain. When the rays of the sun dance on the mountain top, like invisible artists creating a picturesque portrait of nature. Their gentle touch envelops the mountain peaks in a warm embrace, as if nature herself is in love with the light. So too now, as if enveloped in this pleasant feeling, she could not take her eyes off him.
He stood near the tree, hiding half his figure in the shadows.
Not daring to approach the bench, not daring to go near it.
Suddenly she felt a strange sense of insecurity and shyness in front of him. Vivid images flashed before her eyes like flames.
His lips on her skin, burning, his hands on her, exploring.
She was afraid that even her gaze would betray her thoughts and her wildly crippled heart. As if he would read on her face whatever was running through her mind at that moment.
He slowly lowered himself down, sitting far enough away from her. Giving her the space she so desperately needed, as if he knew what she needed.
He was the first to break the silence.
"I think we should discuss," he rasped, trying to find the words in those couple of seconds, "discuss what happened."
There was silence again. There was tension, like electricity in the air. They sat across from each other, eyes darting apart as if trying to avoid meeting. Each moment of silence seemed like a vast field of unspoken conversation, where threads of unresolved feelings intertwined, creating an invisible but heavy net.
The air was saturated with unresolved words, as if invisible ghosts were watching them, eager to break free. Their gazes crossed for only a split second, but in that brief moment of confusion and fear a whole epic of unspoken words was revealed. Feelings hovered in the air like a strange dance where every step was uncertain and clumsy. It seemed to them that this silence contained the whole truth about them, but they were afraid to reveal it, afraid to break the invisible barrier that enveloped them like a haze.
The minutes stretched slowly, like sand in an hourglass, and each one added a new layer of tension.
She stood up, taking a deep breath, neither of them knew their next actions. She couldn't sit like this any longer, the ringing silence around them had become unbearable, they couldn't speak in words. She knew, for some reason, in some strange way it was easier for them to express their feelings with looks, with actions.
She wondered, not knowing what to do next. He, at that moment, was afraid she would run away, want to leave him. But then again, who was he to stop her?
Maria wasn't going to run away; wanting to hide from him was the same as wanting to be in his arms again. The strange need for his attention and caresses, the desire to dissolve into him.
Slowly, she approached him, towering over him, the moonlight playing in her hair, giving her a sort of divine appearance. Like a painting come to life, those delicate, soft features, those lush lips, all seemed even more enticing in the darkness, as if beckoning him to draw nearer to her, to know more. But Georg did not move, he remained motionless, wanting, no longing, to know what she would do next.
Slowly, her hand flew up in the air, just a second of hesitation, and it landed quietly on his cheek. She stood for a while, seemingly unsure of what to do next, but then as if gathering her courage she began to mimic his movements earlier. If they gave her so much comfort and solace, she hoped for the same reaction from him.
She stroked his thumb a couple of times, shifted her hand and touched her lips to his, all the while watching her hand carefully, as if she couldn't believe what she had dared to do. Then she moved her hand back again, there in her palm his cheek seemed to fit perfectly, as if it had been made for him.
What if my only wish was to want to touch you forever?
Georg reveled in her touch, savouring every light stroke of her finger, while keeping his eyes on her face. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes wandering over his face, not noticing the way he was looking at her intently. At that moment, her eyes read such unconcealed longing and tenderness, the way she seemed unaware of, but at the same time wanting to express her feelings to him. It was as if with every touch she wanted to tell him everything, but there were no words in the world that could express their feelings for each other.
He turned his head, kissing her palm. She aghhed. It was harmless enough, God knows they'd done more embarrassing things, but something about the gesture seemed more intimate to Maria than anything they'd done before.
He slowly ran his lips over her skin, occasionally leaving a wet trail. His kisses, soft as feathers, covered the inside of her palm, tears welling up in her eyes.
Not wanting to frighten her, but unable to fight himself any longer, he began to rise. Her hand fell limply, and she didn't pull away, just stood there, watching the way he now towered over her.
She wanted him to kiss her.
And he did. To her great joy, he did.
One of his hands was around her waist, pulling her closer, the other around her neck. Their lips locked almost instantly, but this time it was different. More sensual, cautiously, as if this was the first kiss for either of them. I adore you, that's what that kiss said, and every time their lips touched she believed it. She belonged to him as much as he belonged to her.
He took his time deepening the kiss, just savouring her softness. Wanting to give her all the tenderness in the world.
"Maria," he whispered against her lips, his voice more like a suppressed whisper.
"Captain," she sobbed.
"Say my name Maria," kiss, "tell me," kiss, "I must hear it from your lips."
It wasn't a request, it wasn't an order, it was a plea. Permission to break down that wall between them, to get closer.
She took a deep breath, lifting her head a little higher, wonderfully, he lowered a series of kisses from her chin to her neck, "Georg," she didn't know if that was the word or a moan.
He smirked against her skin, "again Maria," he ran his tongue over her skin, the mixture of humidity and the cold night air made her close her eyes, "say it again."
She expected his words to be followed by a new wave of kisses, again wanting to experience something so tender, light and pleasurable, but in the place of this, his teeth met her tender flesh, she gasped, her eyes opened abruptly and her hands flew to his head, clinging to his hair, "Georg."
A mixture of passion and tenderness. Lust and bliss.
His skilful mouth continued its journey as she moaned and begged for something she didn't know. It felt so good. She wanted to dissolve into this moment, to forget forever, to give herself to him. She was sure she could. He didn't need to ask her to do that. It went on for ages, they stood like that, forgetting everything else. All that mattered now was them. Her whispers and moans, his kisses and caresses.
But when everything seemed so right, then, when she had practically fallen to her desires, like thunder on her skin, he muttered three simple and so painful words into her skin.
Her whole body tensed. He shouldn't have done that. She was lost and confused, she didn't expect him to ever say that to her.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
As if sensing her uncertainty he pulled away, they stood close, but in that moment it seemed to him that millions of miles separated them.
"You don't..." she glared at him, absentmindedly trying to catch her breath, "you don't have to tell me that," she swallowed hard.
It was almost painful, the way she fought him, unwilling to accept his words. The way she so desperately didn't believe what he was telling her. Her perpetual desire to argue with him.
"But, if it's true," he spoke so simply, so confidently.
Silence. A long silence, and then she crashed into his arms with force. Snuggled into him, clutching at his shoulders. She didn't know how long they stood there before she realised she had been crying. Maria couldn't remember how long ago, she hadn't cried this hard. Clinging to him like a child, she let the tears flow, finally unable to hold them back. He lulled her to sleep, gently stroking her head, whispering something she couldn't hear, but believed they were some kind of tender words.
Could she believe this was happening to her?
Their embrace is like a warm refuge in a cold world, filled with tenderness and promises that paint a bright future in the air. Each moment of their embrace sounds like a melody of hope, creating pictures of tomorrow, filled with promises of everlasting love and warming support.
All that pain, all those fears and worries, dissolved into space, leaving them, allowing them to finally surface from that dark abyss.
"Georg," his name like honey flowed between them, "you know," a nervous laugh escaped her, "finally I'm crying because I'm happy," another sob escaped her as she buried her face into his chest.
He drew her tighter to him, and at that moment it seemed to her that he was thereby protecting her from the whole world. Then he gave her the warmest, sweetest, most tender embrace.
She did not want to let him go.
For the first time in her life, she believed that everything would be okay. For the first time she knew that she could be happy here.
The end.
I'd like to end the story here. It's not quite an open ending, but it seemed to me to be the logical conclusion to this journey.
I'm very pleased that I was able to finish what I started. I'm also very-very pleased that there have been readers who have left feedback, encouraging me to write, and to try to think of something further, that means a lot to me. I hope to meet you again soon with a new story.
Thank you very much.