Chapter 3: Lonely is the Room, The Bed is Made

As Maria exited the school building, she was grateful that the rain had finally let up. The days of downpour had weighed on her, and she now welcomed the stillness that seemed to settle over the streets of Vienna. Though the rain had ceased, a gust of cold, icy wind hit her square in the face, setting a chill deep in her bones. Maria shivered, pulling her hand-made coat tighter around her frame, wishing away the biting reminder that winter had no intention of releasing its tough grip.

The maneuver felt all too familiar, much like the way she had spent the past several months trying to ward off the storm inside her. Anger, shame, and confusion had raged through her, leaving her desperate to brush them aside, to block them out as she had done so many times before. But the emotions refused to stay buried, resurfacing with startling force at the quietest moments – whether she was alone in her small apartment, or walking through the bustling streets of Vienna.

At first, the city's charm had seemed to her like a great distraction– the loud crowds, the vibrant market stalls, the hum of life spilling from cafes and street corners. It was all so overwhelming, but in the best way, no doubt. A whirlwind of sights, sounds, and smells that left little room for thinking too deeply. There were mornings she would lose herself in the symphony of Vienna – the street musicians playing lilting melodies, the scent of fresh pastries wafting from bakeries, the energy of people hurrying to their destinations. It felt alive, as if the city itself had taken her under its wing and whispered, "Keep moving. Keep going."

For a time, it worked. The vibrant chaos of the city drowned out the echoes of her past, and the weight she carried seemed lighter, if only momentarily.

Maria busied herself with her new job as well, the rhythms of teaching offering her a sense of purpose. The children in her classroom were bright and eager to learn, their enthusiasm bringing moments of joy she clung to. She threw herself into planning lessons, marking papers, and even volunteering with after-school programs. Her days became a flurry of exciting activity, leaving her little time to think, which was exactly what she wanted and needed.

But no matter how many layers of distraction she buried herself beneath, how much she threw herself into work, thoughts of the sweet yet haunting summer crept in, slipping through the cracks in her carefully constructed defenses. In the quiet moments they would find her – in the pause between a child's question and her answer, in the stillness of an empty classroom after the final bell had rung. The memories pressed in relentlessly.

Liesl's soft-spoken questions, yearning for guidance. Kurt's mischievous grin, always paired with some playful trick. Brigitta's quiet observance, never letting a thing slip past her. Georg's steady, piercing gaze, one that seemed to see straight through her, leaving her unsteady and exposed.

Maria shook her head sharply, forcing herself back to the present. She didn't want to think of him. She didn't want to recall the way his voice gradually softened throughout the summer when he spoke to her, the rare moments of vulnerability that had slipped through his otherwise stern demeanor.

Her steps quickened as she moved down the cobblestone street, wishing the stubborn, unshakeable memories would fade. Instead, her mind traveled to thoughts of the cruelty of the autumn months.

The transition to city life had been beating Maria down as the months grew colder, harder than she had anticipated. The distractions long lost their purpose, and loneliness seeped through every corner, the walls of her small apartment feeling much more like a prison than a refuge. They watched her as she spent nights tossing in bed, tortured by loud singing on gorgeous mountain tops, deep chuckles that shook her core, and thoughts that preceded even her time at the villa. Nights being reprimanded at the Abbey, staring at the wall in shame. Sharp blows to her back as her uncle let his anger out on her once again.

The solitude of her apartment deepened her ache, her grief manifesting in unexpected ways, a forgotten melody hummed under her breath.

She had tried everything to soothe herself. Long walks through the city streets, reflecting. Visits to the cathedral, sitting quietly among strangers and praying for clarity. Making attempts at new friendships with those teaching alongside her, searching for support.

It seemed as if her whole life was haunting her, paying her back for some horrific crime she had committed. It stung, it hurt.

She spent the days trying to ease the pain furthermore. She wrote letters to the children – brief, polite letters full of apologies for her sudden departure and sweet encouragements for their adjustment to life with a new mother. Their replies, cheerful and filled with news, were bittersweet. They spoke of their studies, their adventures, but made no mention of the Baroness or the Captain. Maria had wondered if it was intentional, a small kindness meant to spare her.

One night, as she sat by the window in her apartment, watching the leaves fall in slow spirals, the weight of it all came crashing down. The fragile dam she had built to hold back her emotions shattered, and she wept until her chest ached, and her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps. Her hands clutching the edge of her chair as if to anchor herself against the tide of grief threatening to sweep her away entirely. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, hoping its chill might numb the pain inside her, but it only seemed to amplify the ache.

It was a grief she had not yet allowed herself to feel – a mourning for a life she had briefly touched, felt, but could never claim. A life filled with laughter and warmth, a family she had come to love, and the smallest, most dangerous glimpse of something more.

"You left," she whispered to herself, barely audible over the quiet rustle of the wind outside. "You made the right choice." But the words felt hollow, a mantra she had repeated so many times that it had lost all meaning.

When all her tears finally subsided, leaving her drained and trembling, Maria sat motionless by the window, staring into the darkness outside. She felt as though she had been hollowed out, her emotions laid bare and raw. But even in the emptiness, one thought remained, persistent and unshakeable: the life she had left behind was not something she could forget, no matter how hard she tried. But she had to at least try.

Maria was pulled out of her reverie as she passed a small café, the warm glow spilling through its windows, lightening the dark winter afternoon. Laughter escaped through its open door. It reminded her briefly of the von Trapp children. A couple, hand in hand, stumbled through the door, loving looks painting their faces. An ache, sharp and familiar, swept its way through her body at the sight.

"It's over," she murmured to herself, tightening her coat around her. "You have your own life now. He has his." But the words fell flat, meaningless, as the wind whisked them away.

Maria paused at the corner, her breath rising in pale clouds as she glanced down the street, trudging forward, her shoes splashing lightly in the lingering puddles. The stillness of the day felt strange, almost heavy. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure of her next steps. She glanced down the street, a sense of restlessness stirring in her chest, causing her to make a quick turn down a lesser-known street. It felt as though something was pulling her forward, nudging her to keep walking, though she had no destination in mind.

But then she felt herself collide with something solid, unyielding, yet not harsh – a sturdy figure that radiated warmth despite the chill of the winter air. Startled, Maria staggered back, her breath hitching as her heart leapt into her throat. Her gloved hand flew to her chest in an instinctive attempt to steady herself.

She looked up quickly, the apology already forming on her lips. But the words faltered and fell away as her gaze met a pair of piercing blue eyes – familiar, steady, and utterly arresting. The world around her seemed to blur, the bustling streets of Vienna dissolving into a muted haze.

Georg.

It was him. Captain von Trapp stood before her, his tall frame and presence as commanding as ever, the sharp lines of his coat accentuating the composed air that always seemed to surround him. His expression, however, betrayed him. Disbelief flickered across his features, softening into something she couldn't quite name. Longing? Surprise? The edges of his otherwise resolute demeanor seemed to wave.

Neither of them moved. For a moment, they stood rooted in place, as if the unexpected force of their return had tethered them impossibly together. The bustling streets of Vienna faded into the background, leaving only the two of them standing there, the past rushing up to meet them with startling force.

Maria's breath caught again, and her pulse thundered in her ears. Her eyes widened as the enormity of the moment pressed down on her. She had imagined what it might feel like to see him again, but this… this was something else entirely.

"Captain…" Maria finally breathed out quietly, softly, as though the words had barely formed, her tone laced with uncertainty and a touch of disbelief. Perhaps they hadn't even reached his ears, but the word lingered between them, carrying a weight she hadn't expected.

Georg's lips parted slightly, his eyes locked on hers. "Fraulein," he replied firmly, his tone carrying its usual authority, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something else – something unspoken.

"What – what are you doing here?" Maria asked, her words stumbling as she tried to grasp the reality of the moment.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that, Fraulein?" Georg's eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, his tone measured but laced with curiosity. "Vienna is… quite a distance from Salzburg, after all."

Of course, Maria thought. That was a foolish question. Why wouldn't he be here? This was Elsa's city, the place where his life had seemingly taken root in her absence.

Before Maria could respond, Georg spoke again, his voice carrying a subtle edge. "I fail to see you adorning a habit. A day off from the Abbey, perhaps?"

Maria's cheeks flushed, and she straightened instinctively. "No. I left the Abbey a while ago," she said, her voice guarded.

Georg tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Left?" He repeated the word tasting its meaning. "If I remember a certain letter correctly, you went on about just how much you missed the Abbey, so much that you had to leave us – my children - very abruptly."

Maria's stomach tightened, the guilt she had worked so hard to bury clawed its way back to the surface. "It… it wasn't that simple," she said softly, her voice barely audible. "I truly had thought it was what I was meant to do."

Georg's gaze hardened slightly, though his voice remained measured. "Meant to do?" He echoed her words again, with a trace of incredulity. "And did you find the life you were looking for, Fraulein? Did leaving bring you the life you sought?"

Maria's eyes flashed, a spark of anger igniting in their depths, the awful memories swirling around her mind. She straightened further, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. "I don't think it is fair to accuse me, Captain," she said, her tone sharper than before. "You don't know what it was like to make that decision – to leave a place where I thought I belonged, a family I…" She caught herself, realizing she didn't owe him an explanation, the words trailing off as her voice wavered. "I did what I thought was right for everyone."

Georg's jaw tightened as he listened, but his expression softened slightly. He glanced away, exhaling through his nose as though gathering his thoughts. "Fraulein," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to imply it was easy. I know my words may have come across that way, but…" He paused, his gaze returning to hers. "I suppose I've spent months trying to understand it. Your departure. The reasons behind it. I never thought it was simple for you. Not really."

Maria blinked, the sting of his earlier words easing under the weight of his sincerity. Her anger ebbed, leaving a dull ache in its place. "It wasn't," she admitted softly. "It was the hardest thing I have ever done."

Georg nodded slowly, his hands slipping into the pockets of his coat. For a moment, he said nothing, the noise of the street filling the silence between them. Then, his voice gentler when he spoke again. "And now? What are you doing, Fraulein? How have you found yourself in Vienna?"

Maria hesitated, her gaze dropping to the cobblestones beneath their feet. "I took a teaching position here in Vienna," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. "I've been working at Danube Elementary. Teaching the youngest children."

Georg's lips quirked into a faint smile, a flicker of warmth breaking through the tension. "Teaching," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "That suits you."

Maria's heart skipped at the subtle comfort in his tone, but she pushed the feeling aside. "And you?" she asked quickly, hoping to shift the focus. "How are the children? How is… your wife?"

Georg's smile faded almost imperceptibly. He cleared his throat, his posture stiffening. "The children are… doing well," he began, his tone carefully measured. "They're thriving in their studies, as expected."

"And the Baroness?" Maria prompted gently, her curiosity tinged with hesitation.

Georg's posture stiffened further, and his gaze drifted momentarily to the street beyond her shoulder. "She's… settling into her role," he said, his voice faltering slightly before he forced a polite smile. "Vienna suits her."

Maria tilted her head, her brow furrowed as she caught the shift in his tone. "I see," she replied carefully unsure whether to press further. The hesitation in his voice, the way his gaze didn't quite meet hers, stirred a familiar sense of unease within her. She wondered what he wasn't saying – what lingered in the silences between his words.

Georg seemed to sense her scrutiny, his posture straightening as though to shield himself. "It's been an adjustment," he added quickly, his tone turning brisk. "For everyone."

Maria's lips pressed into a thin line, her instincts urging her to ask more, to peel back the layers of his carefully composed demeanor. But she resisted, unsure of her place in this moment, unsure if she even wanted to know the answers.

Instead, she glanced away, her gaze settling on some young children playing behind him. "Change always is," she said quietly, her words neutral yet carrying the weight of her own experience.

But as her eyes lingered on the passersby, memories of the past few months surged forward, unbidden. His cold demeanor that last night, after sharing the dance. His marriage to Elsa. The ache of leaving without even a proper goodbye to the children – it all came rushing back with painful clarity.

Maria drew a breath, steadying herself, and turned back to Georg. Her voice, though polite, carried a coolness that hadn't been there before. "I should go," she said abruptly, glancing at her watch for effect. "I'm afraid I'll be late getting back to school."

Georg's brows furrowed, his posture shifting slightly as if to block her retreat. "Fraulein, wait," he said, tone softening. "We've only just- can't we talk a little longer? There's so much I'd like to-"

"No, Captain," Maria interrupted, her tone firm, but not unkind. "It's better this way."

She took a step back, her resolve hardening even as a flicker of sadness passed through her. "Goodbye," she said softly, her gaze barely meeting his. "Tell the children I wish them the best." She quickly turned and began walking away, her pace quickening as if to outrun the memories threatening to pull her under.

She glanced back one last time as she rounded the corner, seeing Georg rooted in the same spot, outreached hand falling slowly to his side. She wanted to feel the guilt she should be having, but her broken heart couldn't seem to let her.

TUWSTUWSTUWSTUWS

Maria sat on the edge of her narrow bed, her fingers absently tracing the embroidery on her worn quilt. The single candle on her nightstand flickered with every faint draft that whispered through the cracks of her modest apartment, casting shadows on the walls. The room was quiet, almost oppressively so, yet her thoughts were anything but.

She had spent her entire walk home replaying their encounter in her mind - every word, every glance. It had been like opening a door she had long thought closed, only to find that what lay behind it had not faded or dulled. Instead, the emotions had waited, patient and sharp, ready to cut through her defenses the moment she was vulnerable.

Her chest tightened as she recalled the way he had looked at her, the softness in his voice when he asked her to stay. There had been something in his gaze – something searching and sincere – that left her breathless and unmoored. She pressed her palms against her knees, willing herself to banish the memory. It was foolish – worse than foolish. He was a married man, bound to another. There was no reason, no justification to allow her mind to dwell on him. Whatever fleeting connection she had once imagined had long since been severed.

"It was nothing," she whispered aloud, as if saying the words might make them true. "Just a chance meeting. Nothing more."

But the lie tasted bitter. A part of her, one she fought to suppress, clung stubbornly to the way he had looked at her, the way his presence had filled the space around them. It refused to fade, no matter how firmly she told herself to let it go.

And beyond all else, she knew – she had always known – that Georg von Trapp, a decorated naval hero, could never feel the same about her. How could he? She was just a fleeting part of his life, another governess who had come and gone. His world was one of refinement and elegance, his marriage to Elsa the embodiment of all that society demanded. Whatever feelings Maria might have buried in the depths of her heart had been one-sided from the start. A childish dream, nothing more.

Maria rose abruptly from the bed, unable to sit still any longer. She began pacing the small room, her steps quick and even as her emotions swirled. "I cannot let this happen," she murmured aloud, her voice firm yet tinged with desperation. "I've built a life here. A new start. I won't let him ruin that."

She stopped harshly, her hand gripping the edge of the windowsill as she drew back the curtain with the other. The street below was quiet now, the lively bustle of the day reduced to the occasional echo of footsteps or the faint rumble of a passing car. The city seemed to hold its breath, waiting.

"He has a wife," Maria whispered, her grip tightening. The words were a lifeline, something to anchor her. "He has a life that has nothing to do with me. And I have mine."

She tried to convince herself that Vienna was large enough to make their paths unlikely to cross again. Its streets were a labyrinth, teeming with countless faces and lives that rarely overlapped. It would be easy to avoid him. She would take alternate routes, choose different shops, and keep her lunch breaks confined to the quieter corners of the city. There were so many places to lose herself in Vienna's vastness – parks shrouded in the anonymity of crowds, side streets that could swallow her whole if she wished, seeming to disappear into shadows.

Her world, though small in comparison to the grandeur of his, was a place she could control. She would bury herself in her work, filling her days with lesson plans and the cheerful chatter of her students. The rhythm of the city would become her shield, its chaos her refuge. No matter how commanding his presence, no matter how deeply their encounter had unsettled her, she would slip through the cracks of this urban labyrinth until she could leave him entirely behind.

Maria turned from the window, hands trembling slightly as she let the curtain fall back into place. She extinguished the candle with a swift motion, plunging the room into darkness. Crawling into bed, Maria pulled the covers tight around her, as if their weight could shield her from the turmoil within.

"I will keep my vow," she murmured into the quiet, the words a promise to herself. She closed her eyes, determined to believe them with all her heart. She would hold fast to her plan, clinging to it as though it were the only thing keeping her from being swept away by the memories. She would rebuild the walls she had so carefully constructed, fortify herself against the pull of his gaze, and resist the unsettling familiarity he had brought to her carefully crafted life.

And yet, as sleep began to claim her, a small voice whispered at the edges of her mind – a voice she refused to acknowledge. What if it wasn't so easy to forget? What if their paths crossed again?

Maria pushed the thought aside, determined not to let it take root. She would keep her vow. She had to.

This time, she would not fail.

Author's Note: Welllll hi. Again. I am back with another update because I just cannot stay away. This is my second draft that I just reedited at 2am after getting no sleep last night, so if this is rough spare me please. I'll be rereading it tomorrow for any mistakes.

I am literally so thankful to the kind souls that have reviewed and PMed me - y'all are too sweet.

Today's song: "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley - hence the title of this chapter.

Sooo in conclusion, I hope you guys like this chapter. It makes me happy to see my little lovebirds already interacting again. Also - I am thinking about writing a one shot, shall I do it? I am thinking YES.

I own nothing from the Sound of Music!