I remember the first time I saw the von Trapp villa—its stone walls rising like a fortress against the mountains, cold and imposing. I came from the abbey, sent to bring order to seven unruly children. But what I found was not rebellion, but grief—masked by pranks and silence.

I made playclothes from the old drapes, took them hiking, taught them songs. When the Captain returned, furious at my defiance, I stood my ground. 'They’re not soldiers,' I told him. 'They’re children.'

Then he heard them sing.

His voice joined theirs—deep, resonant, broken with emotion. For the first time, I saw his eyes soften. He apologized. Asked me to stay.

But when he danced with me that night, his hand warm on my back, my heart betrayed me. The Baroness saw it too. And soon after, I was back at the abbey, hiding from feelings I didn’t understand.

Mother Abbess found me in the garden. 'You don’t find yourself by running away,' she said. 'Go back. Look at your life. Then decide.'

Now I’m returning to the villa. But everything has changed.

The Captain is engaged.

And I don’t know if I’m here to serve—or to fight for a love I never meant to have.