Frau Lulu and Maria strolled side by side through the convent gardens, their footsteps quiet against the cobblestone paths. The early morning air carried the faint scent of blooming flowers, but Maria barely noticed it. Her mind was elsewhere, clouded and distant.
Frau Lulu, on the other hand, was animated, her voice filled with enthusiasm. "It truly is a blessing from God that you've returned," she said, her smile radiant. "And that's why we must act swiftly. They will be expecting us today. There's no time to waste."
Maria nodded absently, her gaze fixed somewhere ahead but unfocused.
Frau Lulu paused mid-step and turned to her. "I'll have my driver pick you up at three. Will that be alright?"
Startled out of her reverie, Maria blinked and nodded quickly. "Yes, that's fine," she said, her voice soft and distant.
Satisfied, Frau Lulu smiled brightly. "Good. I knew I could count on you," she said warmly. "I'll see you later, then. Goodbye, Maria."
With a graceful turn, Frau Lulu walked away, her heels clicking softly against the cobblestones. Maria stood still, watching as her figure grew smaller with each step. When Frau Lulu disappeared beyond the garden's edge, Maria remained rooted to the spot, her thoughts drifting far from the bustling plans of the day ahead.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
The quiet hum of the tailor's shop was occasionally broken by the rustle of fabric and the sharp snip of scissors. Georg stood on a small pedestal, his arms stretched slightly outward as the tailor worked swiftly, measuring and marking the fine fabric draped over his frame. Across the room, his friend lounged in a chair, legs crossed, a folded newspaper resting casually on his lap.
Their conversation had started innocuously enough, but it had quickly veered into the topic of women.
"Would you take a woman like that back?" the friend asked suddenly, his tone curious but edged with mischief.
Georg didn't hesitate. "No," he said firmly. "If I don't like someone, I erase them from my mind. They're gone. Simple as that."
The friend smirked, turning a page of his newspaper. "You're too soft. Me? I'm vengeful."
Georg laughed, his posture relaxed despite the tailor's meticulous work. "No wonder there are barely any women who want you," he teased.
The friend rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the jab. "Revenge," he declared with a pointed wag of his finger, "is a dish best served cold. I'm not the type to forget."
The tailor, who had been silently focused on his task, suddenly chimed in without even glancing at the friend. "Maybe women would stop leaving you if you'd change your attitude," he remarked dryly.
A brief silence fell over the room, broken only by Georg's amused chuckle. The friend scowled, flipping another page of his newspaper with exaggerated nonchalance, but the faint color rising in his cheeks didn't go unnoticed.
The friend quickly shifted his focus to Georg, clearly desperate to steer the conversation away from himself. "What about you?" he asked, leaning forward slightly. "Don't you hold a grudge against high society? I mean, most of them knew who you were from the day you were born. They used to visit your family's house, and now they've all turned their backs on you."
Georg barely flinched, his expression calm as he adjusted his posture to accommodate the tailor's movements. "I don't want to waste my time thinking about them," he replied evenly. "But," Georg's tone suddenly shifted, "if there's one person in your life who gets under my skin..."
The friend's curiosity piqued. "Who is it?" he asked, leaning in as though Georg were about to reveal a closely guarded secret.
Georg looked at him, his gaze sharper than before. "The nun who tried to exorcise me," he admitted, his voice colder now. "On the day the Alliance showed themselves in Stuwerviertel."
The friend blinked, clearly taken aback, then his expression shifted to one of understanding.
Georg's jaw tightened as he continued, but the words came slowly, as though he was fighting with himself to speak. "I hope she doesn't enter my heart." Never again, he thought to himself as he flashed back to that moment when she stood against everything he had worked for, everything he had built.
The tailor glanced up briefly, but said nothing, while the friend leaned back, more intrigued than ever. But something in Georg's tone made it clear the subject was closed.