The days flew by, autumn was filling in more and more, enveloping the city in a shroud of yellow and red. September was cold, and grey. As much as Georg loved this time of year, he had to admit that it had more cons than pros. The children had caught colds, and his days became an endless stream of work and caring for seven sneezing children.

He was woefully short of time for anything, but maybe it was for the best, this way he could no longer feel sorry for himself, completely hollowed out by routine.

He never went to that bar again. He no longer walked down that street, trying to avoid or bypass it on every possible occasion. He never saw Maria again.

Strange, because he really wanted to apologise to her, to explain himself. But he couldn't. To be honest, he didn't even try to contact her. He had sent her a bouquet, though. A big bouquet of pink roses (picked with Marta's help, of course), but he hadn't managed to ask her if she had received them, if she had accepted them. Maybe it was shame, or hurt pride. He didn't know, and he didn't want to know. Each time he kept telling himself that it had been one accident, and it would never happen again.

But his conviction of himself didn't mean that she, Maria, didn't haunt him in his dreams. Usually he slept dreamless, a sound restful sleep. But since that day, everything had changed. She came to him, creeping into his head, as if enveloping him in a gentle silk.

It all started innocently enough. The night after the accident, he dreamt about her flat. This little box. There was no one there, just him. There he was again, standing there in the corridor, looking at the bookcase. The next time in that very dream she appeared, standing with her back to him and humming something. Each time it was as if he was an observer, he didn't move, he didn't speak, just stood there and watched. And then everything changed, there was no flat, no her back, no singing. Just big kind eyes looking straight into his soul.

Actually, Georg had to admit, the whole story had turned his life upside down, to say the least. When he got home he was going to have a long, very long, bloody long conversation, with seven disgruntled children, a very tired Frau Schmidt, and a cheerful Max, who by some miracle had ended up in his flat.

It was unpleasant, but still, they were able to forgive him. This meant, of course, that as an additional apology he had to go shopping together, and to a café. After that, however, the enquiries about this mysterious Maria, who as a valiant knight had saved him, began. Surprisingly, he was comfortable talking about her, although he left out some very important details. In fact, his story was limited to the fact that he remembered nothing and the girl had simply helped him get to his home.

He didn't drink anymore. Not at all. After what had happened, he swore it would never happen again. even during evening meetings with Max, he made do with soda or water, receiving countless comments in his direction.

He didn't tell Elsa about the incident. He shouldn't have. She was his friend, no doubt, but still, Georg decided to leave the story until better times.

So time passed, and as October began, everyone seemed to have forgotten the story. Even for Georg himself it remained only a bittersweet blur in the depths of his mind.

He was immersed in work, raising his children, and caring for his best friend.

Maria's days were quite busy and slowly life returned to normal.

She did manage to catch a cold though, and an unpleasant period of pills and hot teas awaited her. She needed to get into shape immediately. Christine said that her health was directly related to the fact that she had never rested.

Her whole life was a series of identical activities. Work, choir rehearsals, work, choir rehearsals, sometimes there was a film night with Christina, but rarely. And Maria was quite content, so there was no time for distractions. And she hardly thought about him at all. Well, almost.

He'd appeared in her life, bursting into as unexpectedly as a summer rainstorm. It had all started when she and Lucas, a terrible bore, agreed to go on a date, but it's only just because, well because, she didn't know the reason.

She'd been trying to stay awake the whole time they'd been together, and eventually she just couldn't take it anymore. Maria decided that if she was going to be alone for the rest of her life, it was better than listening to Lucas talk for at least another minute. That's how Maria found herself in a bar near her house. She didn't usually go to such places, but something told her it was the right place to end the evening. That's where she met him.

He was sitting at the furthest table, almost invisible to everyone. When he saw her staring at him, he waved cheerfully, the whole scene looked so comical that Maria, out of curiosity, of course approached him.

That's how they sat for most of the rest of the evening. He ordered countless drinks for himself and soft drinks for her.

"You're too beautiful to drink."

So he told her, and it was one of the many6 rather peculiar compliments she received from him that evening. It was strange to realise that these compliments were the first she had received from the opposite sex in a long time.

In the meantime, he entertained her with stories from his life. Strangely, his not always coherent speech was more pleasant and interesting than anything Lucas had said to her earlier that night.

Things went too fast from there. One moment he was proudly showing her pictures of his children, telling her countless facts about each one, and the next he was crying on her shoulder.

So, without thinking long, they found themselves in her flat. Maybe it would be a mistake, maybe soon the papers would report the girl missing and no one would ever find her. Luckily he was too drunk to even try something like that. After a light drunken debauch, Georg gave in and fell asleep on her bed.

The morning was interesting, too. The man in front of her was more like a boy, embarrassed and blushing when she mentioned any detail about their time together. She liked it, it was too easy and too interesting to tease him.

And of course, right after he left, she had to call Christina. She gave her everything in great detail and was rewarded with a tonne of questions. So they discussed the mysterious Georg and his seven children.

Then there were those flowers. Pink roses. They'd been delivered by courier the day after. There was no card, no call, no text, but she knew exactly who they were from.

That realisation made her blush, a lot.

The bouquet was magnificent, and it stayed in her kitchen for a long time, until the roses began to wilt one by one. It was like a signal to Maria, and that was how their acquaintance ended. The bouquet wilted completely, though she kept a couple of dried petals, and hid them in her cupboard. A keepsake.

She knew he wouldn't call her back, knew they wouldn't meet again. In fact, if she were him, she'd try to erase all memory of that night. But she wasn't. Which meant she could think about that meeting for a long time, replaying his words and actions.

Maybe it was the children. Maria thought they were the catalyst for her strange need to think about this man. Seven children. He'd shown her each one, but not once had he mentioned their mother. Who was she, why was the eldest daughter calling him and not his life partner. Maybe they were divorced.

So, the maelstrom of questions brought her back to this topic.

Maria wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but after their meeting she revisited Hamlet three times, each time eagerly awaiting his monologue, remembering in passing that even in his inebriated state Georg had done very well with it.

Time passed, very much growing colder, and her memories of this man were beginning to fade.

Soon all the questions she wouldn't get answers to evaporated like raindrops. But that was the way it was supposed to be. It ended the way it was supposed to end.

October was coming to an end. The cityscape was shrouded in an ominous grey veil, the wind howling in the high-rise buildings like an angry beast.

The weather was disgusting. Georg's mood was not good either. He was tired, it had been a painful day at work, he had a terrible headache, he had received another call from the school about Louisa's behaviour (of course he wasn't surprised), and on top of that his car was now being used by Max.

"Georg, you have to help me, you have no idea, it's almost a matter of national importance, well when else am I going to get the chance to take Emma to that damned exhibition, you know my car is being repaired until Wednesday, please."

How did he manage it? Georg asked himself that question every time his friend dragged him into one of his ventures. For all his sternness, he had to admit that he had made too many concessions to his best friend.

Too often for his own good.

He stood in the crowd, waiting for the light to turn green. So, involuntarily to himself, he began to look at the people, everyone seemed as grey as the weather itself, one after another like clones and it was then that she appeared - a defiant splash of colour in this greyness, with her green coat, and her golden hair, she turned her head slightly, but Georg recognised the profile at once. Maria.

It was kind of creepy, but he could have sworn it was her. It had been a month, but he could never not recognise that face. It's definitely her. Standing just a few metres away from him.

All this time, nights and sometimes days, he'd been mentally going back to their meeting, replaying every word and look she'd given him. Thinking about what would have happened if he had called her. His pride and self-esteem had guided him then. But now the urge to approach her was strong enough.

She's so close but so far away.

Nothing bad would have happened, would it? He'd just go over and say hello to her. That's not creepy at all, is it?

And how do you imagine it: "hello darling, remember me, I'm Georg, the one you dragged to your flat, when i can't even stand straight."

As these thoughts flashed through his mind, the traffic light turned green and the crowd hurried forward. The girl moved forward as well. For someone shorter than him, she walked incredibly fast.

It took Georg another five minutes just to catch up with her. He was too old to chase girls like that. God, what was he doing, it was ridiculous.

There, he was close. A step, another step, and then his hand touched her shoulder.

She jumped up and turned around, emitting a charming squeak as she did so. One earpiece flew out of her ear, swaying slowly in the wind. She stared at it for what seemed like an eternity. Those amazing eyes again. What was she doing to him? He had fallen under her spell.

She looks at him as if he were back in his dream. Discontent played in her eyes, but a second, and the look changed to a gentle glint. She hurriedly pulled off the second earphone, pushing it deep into her pocket, though the music continued to play.

"Ahhh, Georg," she blushed slightly, he wasn't sure if it was because of the weather or his actions, "how do you do."

She remembered him. That brought him unheard of relief. Okay, then relief was quickly replaced by fear.

There was an awkward pause. She bit her lip, staring at him. What was next. He hadn't thought his plan through this far. They stood in the middle of the street, just staring at each other.

Pull yourself together, man.

"Hi," was the most sensible thing that came to his mind at that moment. He held out his hand to her. She must think he was crazy.

"Hi," she held out her hand in return, wearing woolen mittens to match her coat.

The shake was short-lived, they let go of each other's hands with a laugh, and there was a pause again. Georg coughed, rubbing his hands together nervously:

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not some crazy stalker. It's just, you know, I recognised you, and well, I honestly don't know what I was thinking, I just wanted to say hello," he tried to sound rougher, wishing his voice didn't betray his excitement.

She was looking at him again, with that sweet almost angelic gaze that blew him away.

"Oh," Maria smiled sweetly at him, "that's...nice enough."

Georg realised that now he definitely had to act. The most sensible thing to do was to offer him coffee. Although secretly he was already preparing to refuse.

She agreed surprisingly quickly, saying that she knew a wonderful place. And so, in ten minutes, they were already sitting in a coffee shop, both of them with cups of hot coffee in front of them. If at first everything was awkward and even stiff, then sitting in front of each other they gradually began to relax.

Maria wanted to ask why he'd sent her those flowers, why he hadn't called her back or even written. But the questions that were on the tip of her tongue dissolved like sugar, and she decided that now was not the best time.

He didn't look the way she remembered him. Well, he looked the same, almost, but there was something different. He seemed more collected, more cold. Not that he looked intimidating. No, on the contrary, he looked attractive enough. Cold, more like winter frost. There was something appealing about it.

Since when did she start scrutinising men so closely.

Georg noticed that Maria hadn't said a word since they'd come in here.

"I'm sorry," his voice brought her out of her reverie, "this must be all terribly awkward."

She blushed sweetly, too sweetly for his own good, "yeah, a little, but I'm glad we're here."

So, unnoticed by both of them, the invisible barrier was broken. Words began to pour out of each one's mouth. They talked about everything and nothing at the same time. It was an amazing change of scenery. Not so long ago he had hated everything in the world, but now he thought it was one of the best days of his life.

During the conversation, each made some interesting discoveries about the other. Maria realised that the man in front of her was not so shy, but rather intuitive and very educated. Georg, on the other hand, could not stop marvelling at how relaxed and attractive the girl in front of him could be.

They discussed books, finding out that they had a lot of favourite authors in common. The topics of conversation flowed with unusual speed; they discussed his children, her favourite actors, even the weather. Neither of them wanted to stop talking.

"You know, I wouldn't say you look like a director of a shipping company, though wait," she closed one eye and tilted her head slightly, he couldn't help but grin, "okay, there's definitely something to it."

"Really?"

"Yes, Captain," she saluted him.

His laugh was silky and thick. It was nice to listen to him laugh, Maria wasn't sure what she should do with this information that was new to her.

"And what's your job, Maria?"

"Oh, well it's been like three years since I worked as a sales assistant in a toy shop," she looked strangely melancholy as she said this, "not as interesting as a director of a shipping company."

"You know, it's not that I've always dreamed of a sales job, but I love children. Actually, I graduated from a teacher training college, and I graduated with honours. But my dreams were never meant to come true. It turned out that schools were looking for more "qualified"," she said the word with a grimace, "as they put it themselves teachers. And it also turned out that everyone liked to repeat the phrase, 'you're so young, I don't think the kids will have anything to look up to', horrible."

Honestly, Georg didn't know how he was going to handle this information. Here she sat in front of him, perhaps the most suitable person to work with children, and yet, she had been refused.

"Right after graduation, and now you've been working in the shop for three years," he spoke thoughtfully as if to himself, savouring every word, "that makes you 25, right?"

Maria lowered her gaze again, scrutinising her own fingers, her face flushed red, "yes."

Oh my God, Georg, what are you playing at, she's closer in age to Liesl than to you.

"And you?"

Pausing, she looked at him, a slight smile playing on her lips. So somehow all his excitement receded, "I'm 36."

"Ahem, well, there you go," she wanted to sound as casual as possible, "all we have to do is find out each other's favourite colour and we're pretty much best friends."

He chuckled, "it's blue."

"I love green," he looked at her coat hanging from the back of the chair, "yes, and my coat is green." She lowered her eyes again, smiling.

So they moved on to a more favourable subject. Music. It turned out that his hunch had been correct, and the guitar in her flat belonged to her. He didn't bother to mention that he still remembered the sound of her voice as she hummed something in her kitchen. But God, how her face lit up when she started telling him about her favourite artists, and how happy she seemed when he admitted that he sometimes listened to Gracie Abrams and Phoebe Bridgers, but only because the girls listened to them, and I couldn't keep up with them.

"Well, I also sing in the choir in my spare time," she seemed almost elated when she said it.

How could one person contain so much vitality and passion? She was encompassed by everything at once. A breath of fresh air. For a moment he had the idea that he didn't want to talk at all, only to listen to her voice, savouring her stories.

"Really? is there any way I could hear your choir sing?" hear you sing again?

"Oh, actually Berta, well, that's our dirigent, he doesn't really like people coming to us for rehearsals," but we'll be doing a Christmas concert," she bit her lip, looking around, "do you have any hobbies?"

He shrugged slightly, "I don't think so, no time somehow, although I do play the piano sometimes," damn, why would you say that, you haven't played in five years, you know it yourself perfectly well.

Her face lit up as if he had said the most wonderful thing in the world, "oh, I've always wanted to learn," she gave him that smile again, he couldn't take his eyes off her, "I'm sure you play beautifully."

"I don't think beautifully is exactly the word, I'd describe it as bearable," the two of them chuckled.

She lowered her eyes, scrutinising his hand. His fingers were long, like a pianist's, really. But there was something else that caught her eye. The gold band, she hadn't noticed it the first time, but now it was clearly visible, glinting in the dim light of the café. And he obviously felt her gaze, covering one palm with the other, and cleared his throat slightly.

To break the awkward atmosphere that hung between them, he reached for the phone that lay beside him. It was 8:40 pm, and he'd lost track of time. Darkness had long since begun to creep in outside the windows, and the café was empty. She saw his concern, and at the same minute, reached for the phone herself. Neither of them seemed to be able to understand how their little conversation had turned into a two hour meeting.

"Do you want me to walk you home?"

Georg's voice made her raise her head and look into his eyes again. He was looking at her almost fondly. How long had it been since anyone had walked her home, she tried to remember, since high school, maybe.

Maria didn't think long, "if you want to of course, yes," then her face brightened with an almost feline grin, "but on one condition."

He seemed quite intrigued, smiling gently at her he raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"This time," she tapped her finger on the table in time with each word, "you'll call me back."

Hi, finally here is the new chapter, I really hope you like it. Be sure to let me know what you think.

I own nothing.