The day had finally arrived. The von Trapp mansion was unusually quiet in the early morning hours, the heavy anticipation of Georg's departure hanging in the air. The family had plans to see him off after breakfast, but Georg had other ideas. Long before anyone else stirred, he slipped out of bed, dressed quickly, and crept out of the house. He needed to see Maria one last time before he left for the naval academy.
The cool morning air greeted him as he made his way across the estate, the dew on the grass dampening his shoes. The path to the gardener's cottage was well-worn, one he had walked many times before, but today it felt different. Each step carried the weight of an impending goodbye, and his heart ached with the thought of leaving Maria behind.
When he reached the cottage, he saw a soft light glowing through the window of Maria's room. She was already awake, just as he had hoped. Georg picked up a small pebble and gently tossed it at the window, just as he had done countless times before. Moments later, the window opened, and Maria's face appeared, her expression softening into a smile when she saw him.
"Georg," she whispered, surprised but happy to see him. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave?"
Georg smiled back, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye," he replied, his voice equally soft. "Can I come in?"
Maria nodded and quickly disappeared from the window. A moment later, the door to the cottage opened, and Georg stepped inside. The small room was filled with the familiar scent of Maria's presence—a comforting blend of flowers and the earth, remnants of her work in the gardens.
Maria's eyes met his as she closed the door behind him, her expression tinged with sadness. "You're really leaving today," she said quietly, more a statement than a question.
Georg nodded, his heart heavy. "Yes, but I couldn't go without seeing you first."
They stood there for a moment, the silence between them filled with unspoken words. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, they moved closer, Maria's hand finding his. Georg squeezed her hand gently, searching her face for something, anything, to make this moment easier.
"I'll write to you," Maria said suddenly, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside her. "I promise I'll write to you as often as I can."
Georg's heart swelled at her words, and he felt a pang of relief knowing that their connection wouldn't be entirely severed. "And I'll write back," he promised, his voice firm with conviction. "Every chance I get. And when the holidays come, I'll come back to see you. No matter what."
Maria nodded, tears welling up in her eyes but refusing to fall. She leaned in, resting her head against his chest, and Georg wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as if the strength of his embrace could somehow keep them together despite the distance that would soon separate them.
They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, neither of them wanting to let go. But eventually, Georg knew he had to. He gently pulled back, looking down at her with a bittersweet smile.
"I have to go," he said softly, the words catching in his throat.
Maria nodded, her hand still holding his. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
With a final, lingering kiss on her forehead, Georg stepped back, releasing her hand with reluctance. He took one last look at her, memorizing the way she looked in the early morning light, and then turned to leave.
As he walked away from the cottage, heading back to the mansion, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the goodbye they had just shared. But even as the sadness threatened to overwhelm him, there was a spark of hope. They had made promises to each other, and Georg was determined to keep them.
When he reached the house, he paused for a moment at the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself before stepping inside. He knew that his father, his sister, and his mother would be waiting for him, ready to see him off. But his thoughts were still with Maria, the girl he was leaving behind but not forgetting.
As he entered the house, he glanced over his shoulder, one last look at the path he had just walked, and then he closed the door behind him, sealing the memory of their farewell in his heart.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
A month had passed since Georg left for the naval academy, and the days had stretched on longer than Maria had ever imagined. She tried to keep herself busy with work, tending to the elderly woman she was paid to care for, and helping her uncle in the gardens when she could. But no matter how much she tried to distract herself, thoughts of Georg were never far from her mind.
The first week after he left, Maria had poured her heart into a letter, sitting at the small desk in her room, writing by candlelight. She remembered how carefully she had chosen her words, trying to capture everything she wanted to say to him—the loneliness she felt, the memories of their time together, the hope she had for his future. When the letter was finished, she had searched for the piece of paper where Georg had written the address where she could send her letters.
But as she searched her small room, she couldn't find it. Panic had briefly seized her, but she quickly dismissed it. Georg's handwriting was still fresh in her memory, and she was sure she could recall the address without needing the slip of paper. With confidence, she addressed the letter, sealed it, and sent it off, feeling a wave of relief wash over her.
But now, four weeks later, that relief had turned into doubt. She hadn't received a single letter from Georg. Each week, she would ask the mailman with growing anxiety, hoping to receive a letter with Georg's familiar handwriting, but he remained empty handed. The longer she waited, the more she began to question herself. Had she remembered the address correctly? Had she made a mistake?
Maria sat by the window in her small room, staring out at the gardens where the last of the summer flowers were blooming. The vibrant colors did little to lift her spirits. Her thoughts were consumed by the silence between her and Georg. She had sent another letter two weeks after the first, just in case the first had somehow gotten lost, but still, there had been no reply. The uncertainty gnawed at her, filling her with a sense of helplessness.
She replayed the memory of Georg's handwriting in her mind over and over again, trying to convince herself that she hadn't made a mistake. But the doubt was persistent, whispering that perhaps she had remembered it wrong, that perhaps her letters were sitting in a dead letter office somewhere, unread and forgotten.
Maria sighed and leaned her head against the window, feeling the cool glass against her forehead. The ache in her heart was growing with each passing day, and the hope that she had clung to was beginning to slip away.
Her uncle, Franz, had noticed her growing distress but hadn't said anything. They weren't close, and she didn't feel comfortable confiding in him. Instead, she kept her worries to herself, bottling them up inside, trying to remain strong despite the fear that she might never hear from Georg again.
She tried to reassure herself that Georg was simply busy, that his training at the academy was demanding, and that he would write to her as soon as he had the time. But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. What if her letters had never reached him? What if he thought she had forgotten him? The thought was unbearable.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the garden, Maria made a decision. She would write one more letter, pouring everything into it, and this time she would be meticulous. She would go over every detail of the address in her mind, ensuring that she got it right. And if she still didn't hear back from Georg, she would have to find another way to reach him.
With renewed determination, Maria stood up from her chair and walked to her desk. She pulled out a sheet of paper, dipped her pen in ink, and began to write. This time, she took her time, letting her emotions flow onto the page, hoping that somehow, this letter would find its way to Georg's hands.
But even as she wrote, the nagging doubt remained, a shadow over her heart that she couldn't quite dispel.
Franz stood outside Maria's door, his hand poised to knock. It was a familiar moment, but this time, a flicker of uncertainty coursed through him. He had always maintained a cold distance from his niece since she had come to live with him, treating her with indifference as if her presence were an unwelcome burden. But today, he had been sent by Johann, and despite his reluctance, he knew he couldn't refuse the request.
With a sigh, he rapped on the door. "Maria?" he called, keeping his voice neutral.
"Come in," she replied, her voice steady despite the underlying emotion that Franz could sense.
He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. Maria sat at her small desk, her pen poised above the paper. She looked up at him, a slight smile on her lips, but Franz saw through the façade. Her eyes betrayed the worry that had been consuming her for weeks.
"Are you alright?" he asked, feigning concern. It was a question he felt he should ask, even though he didn't truly care about her feelings.
"I'm fine," Maria replied, but Franz could see the doubt in her eyes. He knew better than to believe her words; he had observed her since Georg left, the way her spirit had dimmed, the hope she had held onto gradually slipping away.
He leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms. "You've been quiet lately," he remarked, maintaining the pretense that he was interested in her well-being. "Is something bothering you?"
Maria hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the desk. "I've just been... waiting for a letter from Georg," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've written to him several times, but I haven't heard back."
Franz's heart hardened at her words, a cruel satisfaction rising within him. He knew the truth—every letter she had written had been intercepted by him, then tossed into Johann's fireplace without a second thought. Georg's father had given him a directive, and Franz had followed it without question. He had been paid well to ensure that Maria remained in the dark, and it seemed that he would continue to play this role for as long as Johann required. "Perhaps Georg is too consumed with his training to write back. You know how tough the naval academy can be."
Maria nodded, but her expression remained troubled. "I just wish I knew if he was alright. It's been so long, and I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong."
Franz leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "I overheard his father speaking with someone the other day," he said, feigning a casual tone. "He mentioned that Georg might not come back at all. That he could spend his remaining days in Italy."
Maria's eyes widened, the color draining from her face. "What? No... that can't be true," she stammered, shaking her head. "Georg wouldn't just leave."
Franz watched her reaction with a detached curiosity, feigning surprise at the turmoil he was causing her. "I'm just telling you what I heard. Perhaps you should prepare yourself for the possibility. Johann wouldn't lie about something like this."
Silence hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Maria's expression turned from disbelief to resignation, and Franz felt a twinge of satisfaction. She would believe him; she would let this lie settle into her heart. It was easier for him this way, and he was certain it would please Johann.
"I need to go," he said finally, stepping away from the door. "Take care of yourself, Maria."
As he turned to leave, he glanced back at her one last time. She looked small and fragile, a shadow of the vibrant girl he had known before Georg's departure. The scene struck a chord within him, but he quickly brushed it aside. He had a role to play, and showing compassion wasn't part of it.
"Goodbye," he said, and with that, he left her room, closing the door behind him.
Once outside, he leaned against the wall, allowing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding to escape his lips. There was a darkness within him, a knowledge that his actions were cruel. But it was nothing compared to the weight of the debt he owed Johann. The loyalty he felt toward his employer outweighed any remnants of familial bond he might have had with Maria.
As he walked away, he felt a small pang of guilt, but it faded quickly. He had done what was asked of him, and in this world, that was what mattered most.