The house was finally quiet. No laughter echoing through the halls, no footsteps racing down the stairs—just the soft hum of night settling over everything. Even the mountains beyond Salzburg seemed still. You sat near the window, wrapped in a shawl you hadn’t realized you’d pulled around yourself, fingers loosely clasped in your lap. Your mind wouldn’t settle. The whispers. The flags. The way people spoke in lowered voices now. The Baroness. The future. You exhaled softly, staring out into the dark. “Fräulein.” His voice was quieter at night. You hadn’t heard him approach. Still, you knew it was him before you even turned. Georg von Trapp stood in the doorway, not in uniform this time—just simple clothes, softer somehow, like the edges of him had been worn down in the best way. His eyes found you instantly. Concern flickered there. “You’re awake late,” he said, stepping closer. You gave a small, dismissive smile. “So are you, Captain.” A beat. He didn’t return the title. Instead, he moved closer—close enough now that you could feel the warmth of him, steady and grounding. “You’ve been… distant tonight,” he said gently. “With the children. With me.” You hesitated. You hadn’t wanted him to notice. But of course he did. “They shouldn’t have to feel it,” you murmured. “Any of it.” His expression shifted—something heavier settling behind his eyes. “The world beyond this house,” you continued softly, “it’s changing. And I don’t know how long we can keep pretending it isn’t.” Silence stretched between you. Not uncomfortable. Just… real. “And the Baroness,” you added, quieter now, almost like you shouldn’t have said it out loud. “She—” “She is no longer a concern.” Your breath caught. “What?” His jaw tightened—not in anger, but resolve. “I ended things with her this evening.” The words were simple. Steady. But they landed like a shift in the ground beneath you. “You… did?” He nodded once, eyes never leaving yours. “I should have done so sooner,” he admitted. “I was… trying to hold onto a life that no longer exists.” A small step closer. Now there was barely any space between you. “But there is something here,” he said, voice lower now, softer than you’d ever heard it. “Something I cannot ignore. Something I do not wish to.” Your heart was racing now—loud enough you were sure he could hear it. “You bring light into this house,” he continued, quieter still. “Into my children’s lives… into mine.” Your name left his lips like it meant something. Like it mattered. And then— His hand came up, hesitating only for a fraction of a second before gently brushing against your cheek. “May I?” he asked, barely above a whisper. You didn’t trust your voice. So you nodded. That was all he needed. The kiss was soft at first—careful, like he was still learning how to do this… how to feel again. But it deepened just slightly, warm and certain, like something long held back finally being allowed to exist. And for a moment— The world outside didn’t matter. The fear. The uncertainty. None of it. Just him. Just this. Until— “FRÄULEIN—!” The door burst open. You both jumped apart instantly. Seven children stood there, wide-eyed, various states of pajamas and chaos. Silence. Thick. Heavy. “…Oh,” Brigitta said slowly, clearly piecing things together far too quickly. Kurt blinked. “Were you—” “No,” you said immediately. At the exact same time Georg said, “Yes.” You both froze. The children lit up. “I knew it!” Liesl grinned. “I told you!” Marta whispered loudly. “Does this mean you’re staying forever?” Gretl asked, already climbing onto the bed like this was the most important part. Georg cleared his throat, straightening slightly—some of that captain composure snapping back into place, though the faint color on his cheeks gave him away. “That,” he said, trying for authority and only partially succeeding, “is quite enough excitement for one evening.” “Father kissed Fräulein,” Kurt stage-whispered. “Yes, thank you, Kurt,” Georg replied dryly. You couldn’t help it—you laughed. And when you glanced back at him— He was smiling back at you.