SOTD: "Thoughts of You" by Ole 60

Chapter 12: Forever Don't Mean Nothing Anymore

The streets of Vienna glistened under the rain, the dim glow of streetlights reflecting off the cobblestones like fractured glass. Georg von Trapp walked with purpose, his coat pulled tight against the chill that clung to the damp night air. The diner he had left behind wasn't the kind of place he would normally frequent – its simple décor and modest clientele a far cry from the grandeur of the establishments he was used to. But tonight, it had served its purpose well.

His meeting with the British admiral had been discreet and productive. The diner, tucked away in a quieter part of the city, was far from the watchful eyes of Vienna's elite – especially the staunch supporters of Hitler who dominated the social circles Elsa moved in. That thought brought a bitter taste to his tongue. Politics had just become another wedge driven between them, one of the many he had been pondering over the last week.

Georg sighed heavily, his footsteps echoing against the wet pavement as he mulled over the state of his marriage. The cracks in their relationship, once hairline fractures, had widened into undeniable chasms. He and Elsa had been unhappy for some time now, their bond tethering further and further into one of appearances rather than genuine connection.

Over the past week, Georg had thought a great deal about what would come next. With each passing day, it became increasingly clear that their union, built on status and convenience, served little purpose beyond societal expectations. They had always been more of a partnership than a love story, but even that partnership now felt hollow. The changes sweeping across Austria only magnified the strain, casting a glaring light on the differences they had both worked so hard to ignore.

The political climate weighed on him heavily as well. It was no longer a question of if but when he would be asked to take a position within Hitler's regime. The thought turned his stomach. Georg could never lend his name, his service, or his honor to something so reprehensible. And yet, he knew that refusal would come with consequences, ones that might leave him and his family vulnerable. The prospect of fleeing Austria loomed large in his mind, a decision he knew he would have to make sooner rather than later.

But it was also a decision he knew that Elsa would never agree to. She had made her allegiances clear, her views firm. To her, the idea of leaving wealth, comfort, and status for an uncertain future was unthinkable. Georg knew that even raising the possibility would ignite another firestorm between them, one he didn't have the energy to endure.

Thoughts of divorce had begun to cross his mind, unbidden but almost completely unwelcome. The idea of tearing his life apart yet again, this new life with Elsa, however flawed, nauseated him. It anguished him deeply, not because of what they shared – he had long since stopped believing in the romantic promise of their union – but because it felt like an admission of failure. And yet, as the days passed, as Elsa kept her distance in whatever tropical place she was now in, the growing divide between them seemed to point in only one direction. It was almost beginning to become another matter of not if, but when. The realization settled in his chest like a lead weight, and he swallowed hard against the lump rising in his throat.

Still, as much as his marriage occupied his thoughts, his children took precedence. Their safety, their future – it was all that truly mattered. He couldn't fail them, not again. Georg's mind turned to the time he had lost with them yet again over the past months, time stolen by his duties, by his fractured marriage, and by his own inability to face certain truths. He clenched his jaw, guilt clawing at him with each step. His children deserved better than this. They deserved a father who was present, who was strong enough to make the hard choices for their sake.

And then there was Maria.

Of course. His thoughts had always seemed to drift back to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else. She had become an unshakable presence in his mind, a constant thread woven through the fabric of his every thought. It was maddening, infuriating even, how easily she occupied his mind. Maria, with her fire and her kindness, her strength and vulnerability – she was everything he had realized he wasn't. Everything that he wanted to be, that he had respected. And now, she was everything he couldn't seem to let go of.

Georg exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair as the memory of her at the diner surfaced vividly. He could still see her there, laughing and radiant, her arm entwined with Tobias's as they danced. The sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled in the low light – it had stirred something in him, something intense and vaguely familiar. Jealously. Longing. A potent mix of emotions he was certain he had not claimed in averylong time.

It had hit him then, in that quaint diner, like a bolt of lightning. The idea that he truly could not stand to see her with anyone else. That the thought of her in another man's arms was unbearable. That he… he needed her. Even as he hated himself for it, the truth was undeniable: he needed her. He had needed her since the moment she left the villa. He had needed her long before she left the villa. He had needed her in ways he hadn't fully understood until now.

He wasn't ready to call it love. Not yet. He wasn't even sure he could let himself believe it was love. But it was something. Something beyond question. Something he hadn't felt since Agathe. It was a feeling he had long since buried, convinced it had no place in his life anymore. But Maria had unearthed it, forcing him to confront the truth he could no longer deny: he had feelings for her that he had thought himself incapable of feeling again. Somewhere along the past year his heart had become irrevocably bound to hers.

Georg stopped in his tracks, rain dripping from the brim of his hat as his thoughts churned. He hated himself for the jealousy that burned in his chest at the memory of her with Tobias. Hated the possessiveness he felt. But there was no escaping it – he couldn't stand the thought of her with anyone else. But he also hated himself for allowing this moment to bring to light the feelings he had long developed for her.

And yet, where did that leave him? With a wife he barely spoke to. With a life full of expectations he no longer cared to meet. With a country teetering on the brink of something he knew he couldn't abide. Everything felt uncertain, except for one thing: he needed Maria, needed the way she made him feel alive, needed the way she grounded him.

The memory of their kiss flooded his mind, searing and vivid. Her lips had been soft, warm, and urgent against his, and the electricity of it had coursed through him like a revelation. He could still feel the way her hands had tangled in his hair, the way her body had pressed against his. And now that he had a taste, he wasn't sure he could ever let it go.

But did she feel the same? The question gnawed at him, pulling at the edges of his resolve. She had been angry, hurt, defensive – but had she also felt the fire that burned between them? Did she still carry the feelings she had admitted to him, however reluctantly? Or had he misread everything?

Georg sighed heavily, quickening his pace as the rain soaked through his coat further. It was all too much to process – the uncertainty, the longing, the guilt. He wasn't sure what he felt for Maria, but whatever it was, it terrified him. And yet, even as fear threatened to overtake him, one thought burned bright and undeniable in his mind: she was the only person who made him feel again.

TUWSTUWSTUWSTUWS

The townhouse loomed ahead, its stately façade cast in shadow by the dim streetlamps lining the winding street. Georg approached the door, his coat dripping with rain, his mind still whirling with the chaos Maria had left in her wake. The heavy oak door creaked as he entered, and he paused to shrug off his wet coat, hanging it by the door with a deliberate motion.

The quiet inside was almost deafening, as it had been much of recently. He welcomed it tonight, needing a moment to compose himself, to be left alone to sort through his thoughts. But as he moved toward the staircase, he noticed a faint light spilling into the hallway from his study. His brows furrowed.

Max, he thought bitterly, stomping toward the door with every intention of catching his old friend in the act of rummaging through his things. "For heaven's sake, Max, if you've touched anything in my study, I'll-"

He stopped mid-sentence as he pushed the door open, his expectant gaze landing not on Max but on Elsa. She sat comfortably in one of the high-backed chairs, her legs crossed elegantly as always, a cigarette balanced between her slim fingers. The thick haze of smoke curled lazily above her, and the distinct scent of tobacco – a scent Georg had come to despise – permeated the room.

"I was wondering when you would come back," Elsa said coolly, not bothering to look at him as she exhaled a thin plume of smoke.

Georg's jaw tightened. "I could say the same," he replied, his tone clipped.

Elsa finally turned her head, fixing him with a sharp, calculating gaze. "You didn't expect me to stay in Nice forever, did you? Even I need a reprieve from the boredom of that place."

"I wasn't referring to Nice," Georg snapped. "What are you doing in my study?"

She ignored his question, instead tapping her cigarette delicately into the ashtray on his desk. "I'm guessing you were with that governess," she said, her tone light but venomous.

The blood in Georg's veins turned to fire. "Maria," he corrected harshly, his voice dropping to a dangerous level.

Elsa's eyebrows arched, her smirk sharpening into something more cutting. "Oh, dear. No need to get so defensive," she said, her tone dripping with mock concern. "Though I must say, it's rather telling how quickly you spring to her defense. Almost… instinctive, wouldn't you agree?"

Georg's fists clenched as he fought to maintain his countenance. "If you have something to say, Elsa, say it outright. I'm tired of these games."

Elsa's lips twitched into a humorless smile as she leaned back in the chair. "Games?" she echoed, her voice laced with contempt. "Oh, Georg, the games started long before tonight. But fine, if you're so eager to hear it – let's not mince words."

She exhaled slowly, her tone sharpening like a blade. "What exactly do you think you're doing? Running around after some little governess like a lovesick boy. It's embarrassing. Frankly, it's beneath you."

Georg's brow furrowed deeply, his shoulders squaring as he stepped further into the room. "Beneath me?" he repeated, his voice low and tense. "You don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't I?" Elsa countered, sitting up straighter now, her eyes glinting with disdain. "I see it all so clearly, Georg. The stolen glances, the excuses to linger in her presence, the way your voice softens when you say her name." She laughed bitterly. "You've been transparent for far longer than you realize."

"I won't stand here and let you insult her for no good reason," Georg fumed, his voice rising slightly. "Maria is-"

"Maria," Elsa interrupted, her tone mocking as she enunciated the name slowly. "Listen to yourself, Georg. You can barely keep her name off your tongue. It's pathetic."

His temper flared, and he took a step closer, his presence towering over her. "And what would you call your endless scheming, Elsa? Your manipulative whispers, your veiled threats? You think that's dignified? That's what's truly pathetic."

Elsa's gaze darkened, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "At least I am honest about who I am. You're living in a fantasy. Do you think for one second that this little… infatuation will end any differently?"

Georg's eyes blazed as Elsa's words sank in. His voice rose, sharp and unrestrained. "And what is that supposed to mean?" he demanded, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade.

Elsa stood calmly, turning to face him, her expression deliberately unreadable, almost amused. "Oh, come now, Georg," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "You're not so naïve as to think this will lead anywhere, are you? These little infatuations – they burn brightly, but they burn out just as fast."

"Infatuation?" he spat out, voice thick with anger. "You have no idea what you're talking about. What I feel for Maria is not some passing fancy."

Elsa scoffed, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. "Spare me your romantic notions, Georg," she retorted. "You think you're different? That you're above it all? Men like you always do. But in the end, you take what you want, and when it no longer suits you, you cast it aside. That's what this is."

His fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to contain his lashing fury. "I am not like them," he said through gritted teeth. "And how dare you imply otherwise!"

"How dare I?" Elsa echoed, her voice rising to match his. "You think I don't see it? The way you look at her, the way you speak about her – like she's some saint sent to save you from yourself. But tell me, Georg, what happens after? After you've had your fill of playing the tragic, lovesick hero? After you have had your way with her? Will she still seem so perfect then?"

"That's enough!" Georg barked, his voice reverberating around the room. "You have no right to speak about her that way."

Elsa's lips curled into a bitter smile. "I have every right," she countered. "Because I'm your wife. Or have you forgotten that minor detail in all of this?"

Georg's jaw tightened, his anger flaring anew. "You've made it abundantly clear what this marriage means to you," he shot back. "It's nothing but a performance – a façade for society's benefit. Don't pretend it's something that it's not."

Elsa's eyes narrowed, her calm veneer cracking. "And what exactly do you think your precious Maria is going to offer you, Georg?" she sneered. "Evenings spent basking in her naiveness, her innocence. A lift of simplicity, where she plays house while you pretend it's enough to satisfy you?"

"She offers me honesty," Georg growled, his voice filled with conviction. "Something you've never understood."

Elsa's face darkened, her hands trembling slightly as she lit another cigarette. "Honestly," she chuckled bitterly. "Is that what you call this? Sneaking around, pining after her while pretending this-" she gestured between them, "-is anything but a sham? You think that makes you honorable?"

Georg's mouth opened to retort, his rage flaring, but Elsa wasn't finished.

"What is it, Georg?" she continued, her tone biting and vicious. "Do you feel good about sleeping in our bed after jumping out of hers? Or is it just another lie you tell yourself to feel noble?"

For a moment, Georg froze, the weight of her accusation hitting him like a physical blow. Then, fury overtook him, surging like a tidal wave. He took a step toward her, his voice low and sinister. "How dare you," he hissed, his voice shaking with rage. "How dare you even suggest such a thing."

Elsa met his gaze, her expression unreadable but defiant. "Why not?" she asked coldly. "It would hardly be the most shocking thing about this mess."

Georg let out a keen, incredulous laugh, his fingernails clawing into his palms. "You truly have no idea what you're saying, do you?" he demanded. "Maria is the last person on this earth who would ever-"

"Spare me the defense of your saintly little governess," Elsa snapped, cutting him off. "You've already proven where your loyalties lie."

"My loyalties," Georg seethed, his voice like steel, "are to the truth. Something you seem to have no regard for."

"Oh, right, the truth," Elsa mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Fine. Let's talk about truth. You've been obsessed with her since the day I arrived at your villa. You wanted her then, and you still want her now. So don't stand there pretending you're some bastion of virtue."

Georg's chest rose and fell heavily as he tried to steady his breathing, but Elsa's words had struck a nerve, one he couldn't ignore. "You know nothing about what I feel," he said quietly, his voice wavering with restrained anger. "And yet you've done everything in your power to twist in into something sordid."

Elsa's expression hardened, but she didn't respond. Georg seized the silence to press forward.

"And speaking of twisting things," he said, his tone dangerously calm. "let's talk about the truth of what you said to Maria the night she left the villa."

Elsa's eyes flickered, a flash of something – guilt, perhaps – crossing her face before she masked in with feigned indifference. She took a long drag from her cigarette before exhaling slowly. "What are you talking about?" she questioned, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Georg argued, his voice rising as his anger returned in full force. "You told her I would use and discard her. That she meant nothing to me. You made her believe I was the kind of man who would betray everything I stand for."

Elsa looked away, her lips pressing into a thin line. "And what if I did?" she said finally, her voice quieter but no less defiant. "Would you have rather I encouraged her to stay? To keep dangling after you while you played the tortured widower?"

Georg's hand slammed down on the desk, making Elsa jump. "You questioned my honor," he said fiercely, his voice trembling with emotion. "You questioned everything I am, everything I've ever stood for, just to push her away. Do you have any idea what that did to her? To me?"

Elsa flinched slightly at the intensity of Georg's voice, but she quickly regained her composure, leaning back in the chair with an air of feigned indifference. "Oh, spare me the dramatics, Georg," she said, waving her cigarette dismissively. "I did what I thought was necessary to protect this family."

"Protect this family?" Georg scoffed, his tone weighted with incredulity. "By driving away the one person who brought light and joy into it? The one person who truly cared about the children when you-" He stopped himself, shaking his head as if to dispel his own guilt and anger, but it was no use. "You didn't protect anything, Elsa. You tore it apart."

Elsa's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" she retorted. "That Maria was the savior of your precious little household, and I'm the villain in your grand story? You're delusional, Georg. She was a distraction. That is all."

"A distraction?" Georg harped, his voice rising. He stepped closer to Elsa, his blue eyes blazing. "She was the glue holding everything together. She loved those children as if they were her own. She gave them a sense of stability and happiness that you never even tried to provide."

Elsa cried out, frustrated beyond measure. She straightened abruptly and stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray on his desk. "Please," she snapped. "You're acting like she was some sort of saint yet again. She was a mere governess, Georg. Hired help! Don't pretend she was anything more than that."

"She was more," Georg insisted firmly, his voice resolute. "To the children. To me." He paused, trying to solve the mystery of complicated emotions swirling within him. "And you knew that, Elsa. That's why you couldn't stand her, isn't it? Because she made you see what this – what we – could never be."

Elsa's face fell, he eyes then narrowing dangerously. "You're absolutely delusional," she repeated, her voice daring. "Do you even hear yourself right now? You're pining after a girl who had no place in your world. What would people say if they knew you left your aristocratic wife for a governess?"

Georg let out a bitter laugh, his anger bubbling over again. "I'm more concerned with what they'd say about a wife who smokes in her husband's study while plotting to sabotage the only happiness he's known in years."

Elsa's face twisted with fury. "How dare you," she hissed, stepping closer to him. "You think this marriage is a sham? Fine. It is. But don't you dare put all the blame on me. You were the one who wanted a convenient marriage after Agathe died. You were the one who didn't want to be alone."

"Don't you dare bring her into this," he snarled, his voice low but deadly. "Agathe had more grace and compassion in her little finger than you could ever hope to possess."

Elsa recoiled at his words, turning to walk towards the window. But her words continued. "Of course," she mustered, her tone full of sarcasm. "Saint Agathe. Your perfect, untouchable wife. But she'sgone, Georg, and she isn't coming back. So stop pretending that Maria is her second coming."

The air between them crackled with tension, and Georg all but marched after her, his eyes mad with rage. "You have no right to speak of her like that," he said, his voice shaking. "Agathe was my wife, my everything. Shegaveme everything, including the family you've been so eager to ignore."

Elsa laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "And what about me, your wife now, Georg? Funny, isn't it, how you credit Maria as your savior when I'm the one who was there for you in your darkest of moments. I was the one you turned to. I was the one you ran to when you couldn't stand the silence in that big, empty house. I was the one who made sure you weren't alone."

"You know, Elsa, at one time I would have agreed with you," Georg said, his voice now almost a whisper. "But now I know better. You were there for yourself – to parade me around, for the titles, the social standing. Don't mistake proximity for care."

Elsa's laugh was sharp and mirthless. "And yet, you didn't seem mind using me as well, did you?" she shot back, her tone cutting. "You needed a warm body to fill the void Agathe left, and I was there. But now that Maria is back in the picture, suddenly I'm the villain."

Georg shook his head, glaring down at the floor before looking back at Elsa. "This isn't about either of them, Elsa," he said through gritted teeth. "This is about you – about us – and the fact that this marriage has been a lie from the start. I thought we could make it work, Elsa. For the children, for the sake of appearances. But I see now that it was a mistake."

Elsa rolled eyes before dropping her voice to a venomous whisper. "A mistake," she echoed, tone loaded with disdain. "And again, what do you think people will say when they find out you left me for your innocent, covenant-sprung governess? Do you think they'll see you as the tragic hero then? No, Georg. They'll see you for what you are – a weak, pathetic man chasing a fantasy."

Georg simply stared at Elsa for a few second, disbelief written on his face. "I would rather be seen as weak and pathetic than live another day in this farce of a marriage, he spat finally. "At least Maria never made me feel trapped. At least she cared – truly cared – about something other than herself."

Elsa's face froze, her mask of arrogance slipping for a moment as his words struck their mark. But she quickly recovered, her eyes narrowing with renewed fury. "You're a fool, Georg," she said, her voice cold and calculated. "You think all of this is about love and honor? It's about survival. You think your little affair with Maria will protect you when everything falls apart?"

Georg straightened, his jaw set with determination, his voice resonating with quiet intensity. "This isn't about survival, Elsa. It's about doing what's right."

"Right, you're such a righteous man, aren't you, Georg?" she sneered. "Always taking the moral high ground, always pretending you're above it all. But here you are, tangled in a mess all of your own making."

He didn't flinch, his gaze steady and unyielding. "If anyone's tangled us into this mess, Elsa, it's you. You've weaponized every insecurity, turned every argument into a battlefield. And now, you're throwing accusations just to deflect your own cruelty."

Elsa's lips curled into a coy but also grim smile, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You're actually in love with her, aren't you?" The unforeseen words hung in the air like a taunt, mocking but edged with something darker, something wounded. "Just admit it, Georg. You've been in love with her from the start, haven't you?"

His composure faltered, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face before he quickly masked it. "That's ridiculous," he replied, his tone clipped, but there was an undeniable strain beneath his denial.

Elsa let out a cold, humorless laugh that bounced off the walls of the study. "Ridiculous? No, Georg, what's ridiculous is watching you deny what is so plainly written all over your face. Do you even hear yourself? The way you speak about her, the way you defend her? It's almost poetic."

"Stop, Elsa," he warned, his voice low but firm "You're grasping at straws."

"Am I?" she shot back. "Tell me now, Georg, where were you tonight? Oh, let me guess – off to rescue your precious Maria from whatever plight she's found herself in now? Or perhaps you were just finding an excuse to see her?'

"You can stop there," Georg barked, his voice piercing. "Maybe I am in love with her, Elsa. Maybe I did see her tonight. But none of that matters anymore, does it? This isn't about her anymore. This is about how this was over before it even began. And I think it's time we end this before any more damage can be done."

Elsa's smirk faded, replaced by a chilling seriousness. "I hope you understand, Georg, if this is you deciding our marriage is over, you'll face more than just the consequences of your own stupidity. You'll face public humiliation. And believe me, I'll be the first to make sure of it."

His jaw tightened, his expression hardening. "I would expect nothing less from you."

She stalked slowly past Georg, her movements deliberate, before turning at the door and piercing him with a gaze of finality. "If this is truly over, then you can leave my house," she hissed, the words slicing through the tense air like a blade.

Georg straightened, his composure cold and resolute. "I'll have Max bring my things tomorrow," he replied flatly. Without another word, he strode past Elsa and to the front door, his footsteps echoing in the now-oppressive silence of the townhouse.

As he reached the threshold, Elsa's voice cut through once more, softer but no less biting. "You'll regret this, Georg."

He paused but didn't look back, his hand resting on the doorknob. "Perhaps," he said quietly, "but at least it will be my regret to bear." And with that, he stepped out into the night, the door closing behind him with a resolute thud.

TUWSTUWSTUWSTUWS

The late morning sunlight streamed through the top of the tall windows of the opulent hotel room, casting golden patterns on the walls. The faint hum of traffic outside was muffled by the thick curtains that Georg had drawn the night before in an effort to drown out the world. His head throbbed mercilessly, and the stale taste of whiskey lingered on his tongue.

A sharp knock jolted him slightly, followed by the sound of the door creaking open. Georg groaned, rolling onto his side, pulling the blanket over his head in protest.

"What a way to deal with all your problems, Georg," came Max's unmistakable voice, his tone dripping with equal parts amusement and disapproval.

Georg peeked out from beneath the blanket, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as he took in Max's impeccably put-together appearance. His friend stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and wearing a bemused smirk. "Do you make it a habit of barging into people's rooms uninvited?" Georg grumbled, his voice hoarse.

Max raised an eyebrow, moving to pull the curtains open just enough to let in more light, ignoring Georg's groan of protest. "I make it a habit of keeping tabs on my reckless friends, especially when they decided to drown their sorrows in half a bottle of scotch at a hotel bar."

Georg sat up slowly, wincing as the motion sent a fresh wave of pain through his head. "The last thing I need right now is your lecture, Max. Save it."

"Oh, you need much more than that," Max retorted, pulling a chair closer to the bed and sitting down with a flourish. "What exactly was your grand plan here, hmm? Drink yourself into oblivion and hope your problems magically disappear by morning?"

Georg rubbed a hand over his hand, muttering under his breath. "You wouldn't understand, Max."

Max snorted, leaning back in the chair. "Wouldn't I? You forget – I heard quite a bit of your argument with Elsa last night. It's over, isn't it? Or at least as good as."

Georg stiffened, his hands dropping to his lap. "You were eavesdropping?"

"Eavesdropping? No. Let's call it… unavoidable proximity," Max said with a shrug, though his smirk faltered. "Georg, as much as I knew this was coming, I still hate to see it."

For a moment, neither man spoke. The weight of Max's words settled between them, a stark reminder of the seismic shift that had occurred the night before. Georg exhaled heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I don't know what to do next," he admitted, his voice low. "About Elsa, about the war, the children…" He hesitated, his throat tightening. "About Maria."

Max's gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. "Well, panicking won't solve any of it. Let's start with Elsa. If it's truly over, you need to make that official. Dragging it out will only make things worse – for you, for her, and for everyone involved."

Georg responded after a long pause, his voice quieter but resolute. "It's over, Max. I'm sure of it now. I can't continue this joke of a marriage, not when even the civility between us has crumbled. But…" He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the edge of the expensive sheets. "It's the ultimatum she gave me that is bothering me."

Max arched a brow, folding his arms across his chest. "Ultimatum? What sort of ultimatum?"

Georg exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy hair. "She'll ruin us, Max. Not just me, but Maria too. She'll drag her name through the mud, paint her as the villain in all of this. She'll tarnish her reputation, and who knows what that will mean for her life here."

Max's brows furrowed deeply, but he didn't interrupt as Georg continued, his voice rising. "I couldn't give a damn about myself," Georg growled, his tone laced with anger. "Let her slander me, call me whatever she wants. But the children – what will it mean for them? And Maria…" His voice wavered slightly, a rare crack in his armor. "She's already suffered enough because of me. I can't let Elsa make her life even harder. She has done nothing to deserve that."

Max sighed, his sharp features softening. "Georg, I won't sugarcoat this for you. Elsa is a formidable woman, and if she is set on retaliation, it won't be easy to counter. But let me ask you this – how much longer do you think you'll even be able to stay here? Will it really matter how your name is tarnished here?"

Georg frowned, confusion flickering in his gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"The Anschluss," Max replied bluntly, gesturing vaguely toward the window. "It's looming closer every day. Hitler's shadow is spreading, and before long, they'll come knocking on your own door, offering you a position in his regime. And you? I have no doubt you'd refuse it to your death."

Georg's jaw tightening, his posture stiffening. "You're damn right I would."

"And that's the problem," Max continued, his tone laced with urgency. "You've made it clear where you stand, and don't think for a second that they'll overlook that. It won't be safe here for you, for your children. Not when the eyes of the Reich are everywhere."

Georg's fists clenched at his sides, his thoughts spiraling as the weight of Max's words settled over him. He knew this was coming, knew that he would most likely have to flee the land he loved so dearly, but hearing it said out loud so plainly, so matter-of-factly, brought it crashing down around him like a tidal wave.

Max's voice became more flaccid, his eyes narrowing with concern. "Listen to me, Georg. You've been standing still, trying to hold everything together. But the cracks are showing, and you need a plan. You needed a plan weeks ago. For yourself, for the children. And if you wish for Maria to be a part of that future – well, you'd better figure that out too. Because this isn't just about you anymore."

Georg sighed heavily, his fingers flexing on the bed sheets. "I'm not quite sure she even wants that future, Max," he admitted, his voice quieter, almost defeated. "She made that abundantly clear when she said she didn't want to see me anymore."

Max just stared at him for a moment, his expression turning incredulous. "What do you mean?"

Georg hesitated, rubbing a hand across his face before continuing. "Maria… after the argument we had, one of the arguments at least," he said quieter, "she told me – plainly – that she didn't want to see me again. She's done, Max." His tone wavered between guilt and frustration. "She has every right to be, after everything I've done."

Max let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. "Oh, stop acting like a lovesick schoolboy moping over a first crush," he said, his voice tinged with exasperation. "It's clear as day that she loves you too. It's been clear since the villa."

Georg's eyes snapped up, his jaw tightening. "Max, you don't-"

"Don't what? Know what I saw?" Max interrupted, cutting him off. "That girl was head over heels for you, and everyone with half a brain could see it. But of course she doesn't want to see you now! You married another woman, Georg. What did you expect?"

Georg's expression hardened, but a flash of guilt flared in his eyes. "I didn't have a choice back then," he said, his voice defensive. "It wasn't as simple as you make it sound."

Max leaned forward, jabbing a finger toward him. "And now it is? Come on, Georg. Fate has decided to give you a second chance, and you're sitting here wallowing instead of doing something about it."

Georg opened his mouth to respond, but Max waved him off with a dismissive gesture. "The only way you're going to fix this is by going to her. Talk to her. Explain yourself – your mistakes – and without turning it on her." He shot Georg a pointed look. "And I do meanwithoutblaming her for your own mess."

Georg rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the tension. "Enough with the lecturing, Max," he muttered, though there was no real heat in his tone. "I'll figure it out."

Max stood, smoothing his jacket with a sharp tug. "You'd better. Time isn't on your side, my friend. Stop drinking your sorrows away and make a plan. Quickly. And while you're at it, figure out what you're going to do about the children."

Georg sighed, leaning back in the bed. "Alright, alright. Enough. Now, if you don't mind, could you do something useful and go fetch my clothes?"

Max smirked, shaking his head as he headed toward the door. "I'll bring them up, and maybe in the meantime you'll make yourself – ah – more presentable."

The pillow hit the door just as it clicked behind him.

TUWSTUWSTUWSTUWS

And that is how Georg found himself here. At Maria's door, once again. It was like a strange sense of déjà vu – except this time, the air felt heavier, more charged. More intimate. More solemn.

He paused, his hand hovering just inches from the door. Was this really the right thing to do? To come here, uninvited, after she had so clearly told him she didn't want to see him again? The weight of his own indecision pressed down on him, his heart thudding in his chest as he wrestled with whether to knock or turn around and let her be.

Before he could make his choice, the door suddenly swung open.

And there she was. Maria.

She looked effortlessly beautiful, just as she always was. She had the power to take away his breath even in her simplest dress and without the meticulous preparation she'd had the night of the ballet or ball. Her eyes widened as their gazes locked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before her features hardened into something more reserved.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words.

"Georg…"

"Maria, I-"

They both began at the same time, their voice overlapping in a way that made the moment feel even more awkward.

Georg cleared his throat, his voice steadier as he tried again. "Maria, please. Just give me a few minutes to explain."

Maria's brows furrowed, and her grip on the door tightened. "Explain what?" she shot back, her tone sharp. "Because, frankly, I can't even begin to list all the things you need to explain." Her voice carried an edge that stung, but it was laced with a weariness that pierced him deeper.

"Maria, please," Georg implored, stepping closer, though he kept his tone calm. "I don't want us to fight anymore."

She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Georg, not now," she pleaded, her voice quieter but no less firm. "I can't do this right now."

"No, Maria," he insisted, his voice soft but resolute. "It has to be now. I need you to understand now. How sorry I am-"

Maria's jaw tightened as the words left his mouth, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "You can't just keep doing these things, Georg, and think saying you're sorry will fix it," she interjected, her eyes flashing with emotion. "It doesn't work that way."

"I know it doesn't," Georg replied quickly, his hands clenching at his sides as he resisted the urge to reach out to her. "And I'm not expecting forgiveness. Not yet. I just… I want to talk. To explain. To try to make things right."

Maria stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she shook her head, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. "Georg, sometimes sorry just isn't enough," she said softly, the hurt in her voice cutting through him like a blade.

She moved to step around him, her intent to escape clear, but Georg instinctively reached out, his hand brushing against her arm.

"Maria, please," he begged again, his voice almost breaking. "All I am asking is to talk. About us."

Maria froze, her breath hitching at the weight of his words. Georg watched as her expression shifted – surprise, conflict, and something far deeper flickered across her face.

Then, her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head, her voice trembling. "I can't keep doing this, Georg," she said, her tone low but filled with raw emotion. "I can't keep going back and forth with someone who will never be able to give me what I deserve. It's breaking me."

Georg felt the words hit him like a blow, her words crashing down on him with an unbearable intensity. Guilt clawed at his chest, and his voice was thick as he replied, "Maria, I never meant to hurt you." He took a tentative step closer, his own eyes glistening. "But I promise you – with everything that I am – that it won't be like this anymore. If you could just-"

"Georg…" Maria interrupted, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears and brimming with conflict. "Please."

Her plea stopped him in his tracks, silencing whatever words he had been about to say. For a moment, they were lost in each other's stares, the rain in the distance tapping softly against the windowpanes, filling the heavy silence between them.

Georg swallowed hard, his heart twisting at the sight of her pain. The pain he had caused. He wanted nothing more than to reach out, to hold her, to promise her that he would make things right. But he could see the walls she was desperately trying to put up, the distance she was forcing between them.

Finally, he nodded, his voice soft but steady. "Every day," he said quietly. "Every day, I will be waiting for you. At our café." His gaze held hers, pleading, earnest. "Every afternoon, I will sit there waiting for you. For when you're ready."

Maria's lips parted as if to respond, but no words came.

"Please, Maria," Georg added, his voice cracking. "All I'm asking is for you to give me one more chance to at least explain."

Maria didn't answer. She closed her eyes for a moment, as though trying to gather herself, then turned away and pushed past him.

And he let her go, watching her make her way hastily down the stairs and out the door of the building.

He stood there, staring at the now vacant stairwell for a long time, his heart heavy but determined. He had said his piece, and now all he could was wait.

I know, I'm sorry. I know we are all tired of all the arguing. Buttt I promise we will be heading somewhere different soon (kinda) (haha). It's just a little necessary right now.

I hate that I'm not getting chapters out as soon, but school is busy as always. Ugh. But I forced myself to sit down and finish this tonight so yayyy! Hope y'all enjoy!