A/N: Getting closer and closer... Anyway, I hope you guys don't have any trouble getting updates. T_T
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Georg stepped out into the crisp morning air, feeling lighter than he had in years. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn't fighting against himself. The decision had been made—no more denial, no more running.
Jakob's words echoed in his mind. None of his fortunes had ever been wrong before. That meant there was hope. Real hope.
He strode down the stairs of the club, his steps purposeful. As he passed through the hallway, he nodded at the girls heading toward breakfast. A few of them did double takes, whispering among themselves, noticing the rare ease in his expression.
Outside, the sun was shining, and a soft breeze carried the scent of the city through the streets. He barely made it a few steps before Marie, struggling with an entire bolt of fabric, spotted him.
She raised a brow as she adjusted the heavy material in her arms. "Where are you off to?" she asked.
Georg grinned, and Marie immediately noticed how different he looked—relaxed, even hopeful.
"Did something happen?" she pressed.
He nodded. "You remember what Lilian said about the woman of my destiny?"
Marie tilted her head, nodding slowly. "Yeah... why?"
Georg's smile widened. "Jakob confirmed it." His voice was filled with conviction. "She's here, Marie. And I've decided—I won't fight it anymore."
Marie's lips parted in surprise before a knowing smile spread across her face. "Well, it's about time," she teased. "The girls are going to be devastated, though."
Georg chuckled. "They'll get over it."
Marie shifted the fabric in her arms and gave him a genuine look. "I just want you to be happy, Georg."
His smile softened. "I think, for the first time in a long time, I might finally be."
Marie nodded in approval. "Then go. Give fate that push."
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Georg's hands gripped the wheel as he drove, the hum of the engine beneath him barely registering in his ears. His mind was elsewhere—on Maria, on the words he would say, on the way she might look at him when he finally confessed everything.
Would she be standing among the flowers, sunlight catching in her hair as she once had in his parents' garden? Would she smile at him like she did back then, telling him that no kind of love offends God? Would she welcome his feelings as easily as she had when they were young, without hesitation, without doubt?
His heart swelled with the thought.
He pressed down on the gas, eager to see her, to hear her voice, to finally stop fighting what had been tormenting him for years. A smile tugged at his lips, a rare, genuine thing.
But as the convent came into view, a different thought crept in.
What if she rejected him?
The idea settled in his chest like a weight.
What if she looked at him with those steady eyes, unshaken, and told him his feelings were misguided? What if she reminded him that she was a bride of Christ, that no other love interested her but His? What if she called him a fool for still chasing a dream long lost?
His fingers twitched on the steering wheel.
He shook his head, forcing the doubts away. He had come this far. There was no turning back now.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the convent, the holy building towering above him, silent and still. His pulse quickened.
Taking a deep breath, Georg stepped out, closing the door behind him. He turned toward the gardens, knowing she would be there. And with that, he walked forward, determined to find her.
Georg's gaze darted around the convent gardens, searching, until he noticed a short nun approaching him. She adjusted her eyeglasses before offering a polite smile.
"Good afternoon," she greeted. "I'm Sister Katherine. May I help you with something?"
Georg straightened. "I'm looking for Sister Maria," he said, anticipation tightening in his chest.
Sister Katherine's expression shifted slightly. "Oh... Sister Maria? She left the convent."
The words didn't register at first.
"Left?" he echoed.
"Yes," the nun confirmed, moving around him as if tending to a task.
A sudden unease settled in Georg's stomach. "Where did she go?" he asked. "Why did she leave?"
Sister Katherine shook her head. "I'm not exactly sure where... but she might not come back to Vienna."
Not coming back? Something inside him twisted painfully.
Before he could fully grasp the weight of it, the nun gave him another look—one of recognition. "Wait, are you the man who wanted Sister Maria to assist in the Mass?"
A different emotion surged through him, raw and unfiltered. "She left just like that? Without any notice?" His voice rose slightly. "What about the Hyssop Homes project? Won't she do it anymore? Is she simply going to abandon Frau Valenta—and everyone else in the Alliance?"
Sister Katherine sighed. "I... I don't know. She didn't tell me anything."
His breath grew shallow.
Gone. Again.
He had finally decided to reach for her—to stop lying to himself—and yet, the moment he was ready to grasp her hand, she had disappeared.
His fingers curled into fists. The weight of it all pressed down on him, draining him of every last bit of energy.
Sister Katherine must have seen the fire die in his eyes. She stepped closer, her voice softer now. "Are you alright?"
Georg swallowed, barely able to summon an answer.
"I should go home," he muttered, his voice hollow.
But Sister Katherine placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Not in this state. Come, sit for a while."
Too drained to argue, Georg let her lead him toward the chapel.
The chapel was quiet, save for the occasional flicker of candlelight and the distant sound of footsteps in the corridor. Georg sat hunched over on the pew, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the polished floor beneath him.
Sister Katherine had guided him here, her touch light yet firm on his arm, and now she stood a few steps away, hesitant.
"I'll get you a glass of water," she offered, her voice calm and steady.
Georg gave a small nod, barely registering her words. She turned, making her way down the nave, her habit swaying gently with each step. But before she could disappear, he spoke.
"Sister."
She stopped, turning back to him with a questioning look.
"Can a nun fall in love?"
Sister Katherine blinked. "A nun?" she echoed, as if the words themselves were foreign to her.
"Has it ever happened before?" Georg pressed. "A nun falling in love?"
The nun simply stood there, her lips parting slightly, but no words came.
"Because we can change," he continued. His voice was quiet, but there was an urgency to it. "I used to be so sure about things—things I now know aren't true." He exhaled, running a hand down his face. He believed he could never fall in love again after her, but someone in the heavens seemed to know his heart, that he fell in love again to the same woman.
Sister Katherine watched him, her expression unreadable.
"We change," he repeated, softer this time.
"But nuns take vows," she said carefully. "They make promises to God."
Georg let out a dry chuckle. "I made vows too. I made promises I thought I could keep." He leaned back against the pew, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. "But we all have a heart, don't we?" His gaze dropped back to her. "A heart that God doesn't take away—not even from a nun."
Sister Katherine's mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but she hesitated. A nervous energy flickered in her expression, her hands tightening over the edges of her sleeves.
Then, after a brief pause, she gave him a quick nod. "I'll get that glass of water."
She turned and walked away, her pace a little quicker than before.
Georg sat back, his thoughts a tangled mess.
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The Aare River shimmered under the midday sun, its waters rushing with a force that seemed both restless and serene. Maria stood beside Father Norman on the bridge, the breeze carrying the scent of damp earth and distant pine.
"Look how beautiful the river is," Father Norman said, his voice calm yet firm. He rested his hands on the railing, watching the currents weave and break against the rocks below. "It rages one moment, then calms the next. Everything changes, Maria."
Maria listened, but her eyes were fixed on the water, her heart stirred by the sight of it. She had spent most of her life surrounded by mountains, enclosed by their vast, unmoving presence. But this—this was different. The river moved. It went forward, shaping the land as it pleased.
Father Norman caught the way she leaned over the railing, her eyes wide with something between wonder and longing. He smiled knowingly.
"Go on," he said with a nod.
Maria hesitated only for a moment before stepping away from the bridge. She made her way down the small embankment, her boots pressing into the damp earth until she reached the water's edge. Kneeling down, she dipped her hands into the rushing current, gasping slightly at the cold that met her skin.
She traced her fingers through the water, feeling its constant, tireless movement. Unlike the mountains she had known all her life, the river did not stay still. It carried everything forward, never once looking back.
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Georg drove home from the convent, heading directly to a nearby store. The scent of fresh tobacco lingered as Georg stepped out of the store, a new pack of cigars in his hand. He barely registered the noise spilling out from the bar & breakfast next door until a familiar voice called out, loud and full of excitement.
"Big news, girls!" Big Boy's voice boomed through the street. "Heard it on the radio just now—Sister Maria left Vienna!"
A wave of chatter and laughter rippled through the group of women gathered outside the club. Some clapped their hands together, others exchanged smirks and knowing glances.
"Good riddance," one of them scoffed. "That nun was making our lives miserable."
"That's what happens when you try to play saint in a place like this," Big Boy added with a chuckle. "Lost the vote, couldn't face the music, so she hit the road. No surprise there!"
Marie appeared in the crowd, her brows drawing together as she listened. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.
Big Boy grinned. "Some folks were talking about it inside. Said she left right after everything went down." He turned back to the others, shaking his head. "Bet she couldn't stand the shame. The Captain gave her a rightful knockout—not just her, but all those high and mighty folks who wanted to throw us out of our own homes."
Laughter erupted from the girls, their voices rising in amusement as Big Boy mimicked a dramatic exit, clutching his heart like a fallen martyr.
Georg kept walking past them, his jaw tight.
One of the girls spotted him just then and called out, "Hey, Captain! You really did a number on Sister Maria, huh?"
He said nothing, stepping through the doors of the club without even a glance in their direction.
Big Boy only laughed harder. "Guess he knows it too!"
Marie remained outside, leaning against a lamppost, arms crossed as she watched Georg disappear into the club. Unlike the others, she wasn't smiling.
She knew the truth. And she knew this wasn't a victory for him at all.
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Georg sat motionless behind his desk, his elbows resting on the wood, his face buried in his hands. The weight of it all pressed down on him—Maria was gone. Again.
He had told himself he wouldn't go back to that misery, to the hollow feeling he had when he lost her before. Back then, he was just a heartbroken boy, deceived and left behind. Now, he was a man with responsibilities, people who depended on him. He couldn't afford to break. But knowing that didn't make the ache any less unbearable.
The door creaked open, and he lifted his head just enough to see Marie step inside. She closed the door behind her, her steps cautious as she approached.
"It was Sister Maria, wasn't it?" she asked gently.
Georg didn't answer right away. He rubbed a rough hand over his jaw, his throat tight. Finally, he nodded.
Marie sighed and stepped closer. She had seen it for weeks now, the way he masked his true feelings with anger whenever Maria's name came up. She knew. She had always known.
She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go ahead," she whispered. "Let it all out."
Georg exhaled shakily. In the past, his grief would have turned to fury—he would have thrown glasses, overturned furniture, let his rage fill the silence. But now, anger wouldn't bring her back. Nothing would.
A sharp breath hitched in his throat, and no matter how hard he fought it, the tears broke free. He closed his eyes, his body trembling as silent sobs wracked his frame.
Marie stayed beside him, saying nothing. Just letting him grieve for a while.
Georg let out a weary sigh, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the dampness from his face. He scoffed at himself, shaking his head. "I must look like a fool," he muttered, voice rough with emotion. "A grown man crying over a woman."
Marie, settling into the chair across from him, shushed him gently. "Oh, stop that. Everyone's been through this." She leaned back, crossing her legs. "Love stories, Georg, they're just a bunch of lies."
He looked at her, brow furrowed. "Then I must be a fool twice over," he said bitterly. "First for believing in them, and second for trusting in fortune-teller talk."
Marie shrugged. "At least you got distracted," she said with a small smile. "Even I enjoy myself when I let a little delusion in. I know it's all a lie, but it makes us happier, doesn't it?"
Georg let out a short, humorless chuckle. "I never took you for a romantic."
"Not at all," she replied, smirking.
He sighed again, the small moment of levity fading as he rested his arms on the desk. "I thought she still loved me," he admitted softly.
Marie tilted her head. "What do you mean 'still' and 'loved'?"
Georg exhaled slowly, as if saying the words aloud would make them even heavier. "There's something only Max knows," he admitted, his voice low, almost hesitant. "Maria and I... we were in love. When we were young."
Marie's eyes widened. Of all the things she had expected, this wasn't one of them. "You and Sister Maria?" she asked, incredulous. "You two couldn't be more different."
Georg gave a tired chuckle, but there was no real amusement in it. "That's what Max said." He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if he could find traces of their past written there. "Her uncle worked for my family. We used to sneak into the gardens together." His gaze drifted somewhere far away, lost in memory. "Before I left for the naval academy, we confessed our feelings to each other. I promised her I'd come back for her."
Marie watched him, silent as he continued.
"But when I did..." Georg shook his head. "She was gone. I searched, I asked, but there wasn't a single trace of her." He let out a bitter laugh. "Not only that. We promised to send each other letters, but I never got a single one from her."
Marie reached across the desk, placing her hand over his.
"I knew something was wrong," Georg continued, voice thick with emotion. "And then my father and her uncle told me she ran off with another man. But that wasn't the truth, was it?" He swallowed hard. "She became a nun."
Marie squeezed his hand gently.
"For years, I believed they separated us on purpose," Georg admitted. "But now... I don't know." His fingers curled into fists. "Because when I finally get close to her again, she runs. Every time."
Georg let out a slow breath, shaking his head as if trying to clear the thoughts plaguing him. "She kept looking at me that night at the city council," he murmured. "I saw it. Again and again." His lips curved into a sad smile. "I really thought... maybe it meant something. Maybe there was still a chance."
Marie didn't say anything, just watched him as he struggled with the weight of his own emotions.
"But turns out," he continued, voice thick with bitterness, "I was deceived." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The pain struck him all over again, sharp and unforgiving.
Marie squeezed his hands tighter, offering the only comfort she could. "You need to move on," she said gently, though there was a firmness in her tone.
Georg nodded slowly. Then, with sudden determination, he pushed himself up from his chair. "I will," he said, more to himself than to her. "I'll forget her much faster than she forgot me." His voice was loud, forceful, as if saying it aloud would make it true.
Lifting a finger, he declared, "I don't want her name mentioned in front of me again."
Marie smirked, rubbing her nose as she leaned back in her chair. "You're the only one talking about her here," she pointed out.
Georg stretched his arms and forced a grin. "Let's go to the club tonight," he said.
Marie's eyes widened in surprise before excitement took over. "Really?" she asked, standing up with enthusiasm. It wasn't often that Georg joined in on the revelry at his own club.
Just as she was about to tease him about loosening up, the door swung open. Max stepped inside, his sharp eyes scanning Georg's face. He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, observing.
Georg frowned. "What? Did your reporter friend send you again?"
Max shrugged. "He did," he admitted easily. "I get a cut of his commission. Easiest money I can make right now."
Georg scoffed but didn't push further.
Max leaned against the doorframe. "I actually came to tell you something else. They're going to interview your parents."
Georg stilled. Slowly, he walked around his desk, as if the words took a moment to sink in. "My parents?"
Max nodded. "They're at the villa in Aigen. Keeping to themselves, busy with their gardens."
Georg's lips curled into a small smile, almost unconsciously. The thought of his parents still living their lives, peacefully tending to their garden, gave him a brief sense of relief.
Max tilted his head. "Want me to convey a message?"
Georg's smile faded, reality crashing down on him. He remembered everything—their indifference, their lies, the pain they caused him. His expression darkened.
"No," he said flatly.
Max studied him for a moment. "You sure?"
"I am." Georg's voice was firm. There was nothing left to say.
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Georg leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon as the sun dipped below the rooftops. The city was bathed in hues of gold and crimson, yet he found no beauty in it tonight. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the past, in the endless string of what-ifs that haunted him.
Where had it all gone wrong?
Of all the women in the world, why did he have to love someone who had given herself to God?
He exhaled sharply, gripping the railing. What if he had disobeyed his father all those years ago? What if he had taken Maria's hand and run away with her before the world had the chance to pull them apart? What if he had never stopped searching for her?
And the question that cut the deepest—if she truly loved him, why did she keep running away?
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Maria sat by the window of her small room in Bern, her pen scratching against the paper as she wrote a letter to Frau Nina. Outside, the streets buzzed with life, but she felt none of it. She had seen the beautiful sights of the city, walked its bustling squares, and yet, the ache in her heart remained.
She wrote of Father Norman's departure, how he had returned to Tyrol and left her feeling unbearably alone. She admitted in the letter that perhaps the priest had been right all along—she needed to detach herself from everything that belonged to the world.
She could bring nothing with her. Not in her hands.
And certainly not in her heart.
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Max stepped into the club, already buzzing with life—laughter, music, the clinking of glasses, and the haze of cigar smoke thick in the air. He barely had to look before he spotted Georg at the bar, drink in hand, scanning the crowd as if expecting him.
For someone who wanted nothing to do with his parents, Max thought, Georg had certainly been eager to hear from him.
As soon as their eyes met, Georg pushed away from the counter and strode toward him, meeting him halfway.
"How did it go?" Georg asked, skipping pleasantries altogether.
Max hesitated, then sighed. "Your father didn't want to talk about you."
Georg let out a scoff, his lips curling into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Of course he didn't."
"But your mother did," Max added, watching as Georg's expression shifted—just slightly. "She told my friend that... they failed you."
Georg's brows furrowed.
"They wanted to shape you into someone greater than them," Max continued. "And they failed."
For a moment, Georg said nothing. Then, barely above a whisper, he muttered, "Everything bad is happening to me today."
He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Max stood still, watching his friend's retreating figure, feeling a familiar weight settle in his chest.
Pity.