Maria arrived in Tyrol in the dead of night, the cold mountain air wrapping around her like a quiet reprimand. The journey had been long and exhausting, but she had needed to get away—away from Vienna, away from Georg. She clutched her small travel bag tightly, her knuckles white against the worn leather.
The familiar creak of the wooden door welcomed her as she stepped inside Frau Nina's house. The warmth of the fire flickered against the walls, casting dancing shadows across the modest furniture. Maria barely had time to compose herself before Frau Nina emerged from the kitchen, her expression shifting from pleasant surprise to concern in an instant.
"Maria!" the older woman exclaimed, hurrying forward to envelop her in a warm embrace. "It is so good to see you back in Tyrol."
Maria stiffened. It had been too long since she had felt safe, and yet, even here, the weight in her chest did not ease.
As Frau Nina pulled away, her sharp eyes studied Maria's face, taking in the exhaustion, the redness of her eyes, the sadness she could not hide.
"What happened?" she asked gently, reaching for Maria's hands.
Maria swallowed, looking down at the wooden floor. "I don't think I can be a nun anymore." Her voice was barely above a whisper, the shame heavy on her tongue. "I committed a great sin."
Frau Nina's breath hitched, her hands tightening around Maria's. "Don't say that about yourself," she said firmly, shaking her head. "You have always had a big heart, Maria—big enough to love God fully."
Maria bit her lip, unable to meet the woman's gaze. "I met a man."
Silence fell between them, stretching thick and unspoken. Frau Nina pulled away slightly, her eyes widening. Panic flickered across her face, as if Maria had just uttered something irreversible, something that could set her adrift from God's path forever.
"Maria," she said, voice laced with urgency. "Do you remember the children you taught? The way you would spend your free time volunteering at the church?" Her words came rushed, as if reminding Maria of these things would somehow anchor her back to where she belonged. "You have done all these good things because you were destined to give yourself to God."
Maria, her voice cracking, said, "I kissed that man."
Frau Nina gasped, her entire body tensing. Then, as if something inside her snapped, she yelled, her voice filled with disbelief. "Maria! Are you trying to say that your calling wasn't important? That you're ignoring everything Father Norman and I have worked for?"
Maria flinched but stood her ground, her guilt tightening like a noose. "I kissed a man," she repeated, the words laced with self-loathing, as if saying them aloud solidified her unworthiness of God's love.
"Shut up!" Frau Nina shouted, her voice raw with emotion. The force of it made Maria step back, her heart pounding against her ribs. The weight of her guilt grew heavier, pressing down on her chest until she could barely breathe.
Then, suddenly, the older woman approached and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Don't say more," Frau Nina murmured, her voice breaking. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched Maria close. "You're only troubled, my child. That city is getting to you."
She guided Maria to the couch, her hands trembling as she pressed her down to sit. "What you need is rest," she whispered. "A break. That's all."
Frau Nina cried into Maria's shoulder, her body wracked with quiet sobs. But Maria couldn't bring herself to react. She sat there, staring ahead, her hands limp in her lap, feeling as if she had already lost something she could never get back.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
The early morning light cast a soft glow over the convent's courtyard as Georg stood near the fountain, the gentle trickle of water doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He had come as soon as the sun had risen, driven by the need to see Maria, to talk to her, to make sense of everything that had happened between them.
But instead of Maria, it was Sister Katherine who approached him.
He barely waited for pleasantries before asking, "Where is she?"
The nun's expression remained neutral, but her voice held a hint of sympathy. "She went on a trip."
Georg's fingers curled into a fist at his side. "A trip?" he echoed.
Sister Katherine answered, folding her hands together. "She left yesterday and did not tell us when she will be back."
Georg exhaled sharply, his frustration mounting. First, she had avoided him. Now, she had vanished altogether.
The nun seemed to study him carefully before speaking again. "You're the one who requested that Mass, aren't you?"
He turned his gaze to her, startled.
Sister Katherine reached into the folds of her habit and pulled out a small envelope. "She left a letter for you."
For a moment, he simply stared at it, the weight of the paper feeling heavier than it should in his hands.
She hadn't disappeared without a word this time. That alone should have been a comfort.
A small, almost reluctant smile ghosted across his lips as he carefully unfolded the letter, hoping—praying—that within its pages, he would find the answers he so desperately sought.
As Georg's eyes skimmed over the words on the page, his faint smile faded.
Forget about me.
The phrase burned into his mind, each syllable a knife twisting deeper.
May God enlighten you and make you happy.
His fingers tightened around the letter, crumpling it into his palm as he exhaled a breath that felt too heavy for his chest. He sat down on the bench nearby, the weight of disappointment pressing down on him.
Forget about her?
As if he ever could.
His jaw clenched as he looked up at Sister Katherine. "Did she at least tell you where she was going?"
The nun hesitated, then nodded. "She did. She went to Tyrol."
A flicker of hope ignited in his chest. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Georg pushed himself to his feet, straightening his posture with newfound resolve. "Thank you, Sister."
Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his mind already made up.
He was going to Tyrol.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
Karl let out a frustrated sigh, watching as Georg folded another shirt and placed it neatly into his suitcase. "Are you seriously going after that nun?"
Georg didn't pause, didn't even glance up. "I'm taking the train to Tyrol tomorrow."
Karl shook his head, leaning back in his chair by the window. "This is a bad idea," he warned. "You're going to cause a scandal. The whole town will be talking, and worst of all, Maria—she might end up resenting you for it."
Georg finally looked up, pulling something from his pocket. The light of the room caught on the small object—Maria's rosary. He held it up between his fingers, the weight of it grounding him in his decision.
"She was meant for me," Georg said simply. "There's no way I'm giving her up."
Karl sighed again, rubbing his temples. "But this is risky."
Georg laid another suit jacket in his suitcase and closed the lid with a decisive snap. His expression was unwavering as he looked at his friend.
"Maria will be worth the risks."
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
Frau Nina clutched the folds of her shawl tightly as she sat across from Father Norman in the small, quiet chapel, where the usual churchgoers had been going since the renovation of their town's church. The flickering light of the altar cast long shadows, deepening the lines of worry on her face.
"Father," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maria is lost." Her hands trembled as she wrung them together.
Father Norman regarded her carefully, his own expression solemn. "Did she confess this to you?"
Frau Nina swallowed hard and nodded. "Yes," she admitted, her voice quavering. "She spoke of... of someone. A man. One she is taken with." She hesitated, then asked, "Do you know who he is?"
The priest exhaled slowly, his eyes filled with something that looked like regret. "Yes," he said finally. "It is the Captain."
Frau Nina's breath caught in her throat. Her hands gripped the armrests of her chair as she stared at the priest in horror. "That degenerate?" she choked out. "From Vienna?"
Father Norman gave a solemn nod. "That's the one."
A gasp escaped her lips, her entire body stiffening at the revelation. This could not be. Maria, her sweet Maria, entangled with a man like him?
The priest sighed, rubbing his temples as if an unbearable weight pressed down upon him. "He has led her astray," he murmured. "And I fear... I no longer have the strength to fight against him."
Frau Nina felt the world shift beneath her. If even Father Norman, a man of unwavering faith, had lost hope, what did that mean for Maria?
Frau Nina tightened her grip on the edge of the pew, her knuckles turning white. She nodded, slowly at first, then with growing certainty. "I will fight," she said, her voice gaining strength. "I will not stand by and watch Maria be taken from God."
Father Norman regarded her with a weary expression, one that seemed to say he had seen too many souls fall and knew how powerless mere conviction could be. "And what can you do?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
Frau Nina opened her mouth to answer but faltered. What could she do? She had no plan, no clear path forward. All she knew was that she could not sit idly by. She straightened her back. "I'll do anything," she declared. "Anything for my dear Maria."
The priest remained quiet for a moment, studying her. Then, almost as if testing her resolve, he asked, "Do you even know where to find him?"
Frau Nina hesitated. Of course, she did not. She had only heard whispers of his presence in Vienna, rumors of a man who had lost his way long ago. She met the priest's gaze. "Tell me."
Father Norman exhaled and shook his head. "Where do you think the wicked live?" he asked.
Frau Nina's stomach clenched. The answer settled in her chest before he even said it.
"The red-light district."
Her breath hitched slightly, but she quickly composed herself. Whatever disgust or fear she felt, she would not let it deter her. She would not let Maria be lost to such a place.
The priest, perhaps sensing her turmoil, gestured toward the altar. "Let me finish Mass," he said. "Then we will talk."
Frau Nina nodded, folding her hands together. She would wait. But she would not waver.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
Night had fallen, and Maria's worry grew with every passing moment. She had been searching frantically for Frau Nina, her heart pounding harder each time she turned up empty-handed.
The last time she had seen the older woman was just after lunch, when Frau Nina had told her she was heading to the chapel. That had been hours ago. Now, Maria had scoured every familiar place—the chapel, the local gardens, the streets leading to the market—but there was no trace of her.
Desperate, she made her way to the home of Carolina and Constanze, two sisters who often joined Frau Nina in church. They welcomed her inside, their concern mirroring her own.
"So, Frau Nina vanished?" Constanze said as she settled into a chair in their modest living room.
"How did she vanish?" Carolina asked, her voice alarmed.
Maria sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers anxiously twisting her rosary beads. "I don't know," she admitted. "She left early and hasn't returned. She said she was going to talk to Father Norman, but she wasn't at the chapel when I went looking for her."
The sisters exchanged glances.
"Where could she have gone?" Maria asked, her voice tight with worry. "She never leaves the house without saying where she's going." Maria swallowed hard, dread settling deep in her stomach. Something wasn't right. But what had happened to Frau Nina?
Meanwhile, at the train station in Vienna, Frau Nina stepped onto the platform, her body aching from the long journey. She clutched her handbag tightly, adjusting her shawl as she took in the bustling station around her. The air smelled of smoke and iron, the rhythmic clatter of departing trains filling her ears.
She had spent nearly a quarter of the day in transit, watching the landscape blur past the train window, her thoughts racing as fast as the wheels beneath her. Now that she was here, standing on unfamiliar ground, the weight of her decision pressed down on her.
With a deep breath, she walked briskly out of the station, her eyes scanning the line of waiting taxis. Without hesitation, she stepped toward one and climbed inside.
"Where to, ma'am?" the driver asked, adjusting the rearview mirror to glance at her.
She hesitated for only a moment before answering. "To Stuwerviertel, please."