on hiatus

Isabela gripped the letter in her hands, effectively wrinkling its sides, her eyes staring over to the horizon line.

She weighed every option in her mind, every possibility, every outcome yet out of all the things she thought, only one thing really stood out.

You.

She shut her eyes close before taking a deep breath. She gritted her teeth.

Screw it.

Isabela threw the letter behind her and without a second thought, jumped off the balcony as she swung down with her vines and the moment her feet touched the ground, she started running.

Several thoughts raced through her head, most of them negative, as she made your way to your home.

What was she to do when she got there? Knock on your door, hope that you were still awake, explain herself, and pray that you won't shut your door close on her face?

Yep, that's exactly what she was going to do. Worst case scenario, Dolores hears everything and Isabela would come crying back to casita and into her prima's arms—unless Dolores was fast asleep then crying herself to sleep it was.

However, although Isabela was dead set on finally talking to you, her pace started to slow down when the crushing weight of reality settled in once again, filling every inch of her with doubt until she came to a complete stop.

This was stupid.

She didn't even know where your house was. Even if she did, what then?

But you did want to see her, didn't you? Or was it only the person that you built in your head that you wanted to see? Isabela paced around as her thoughts collided against each other once more.

Obviously you wanted an explanation but—

“Won't señora Alma scold you for being up so late?”

Isabela froze. A quick glance to the side revealed that she was actually right in front of the chapel. She mentally cursed at herself.

“Or was nobody meant to catch you?” you chuckled weakly.

Quick, think of something, Isabela!

“I was actually out for a morning ritual—” but the moment she turned around to face you, the words she wanted to say got stuck in her throat.

“Must be some traditional magic family thing, huh?” you laughed quietly although there was no humor in your voice. Isabela stared at your tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

Isabela felt even guiltier. For how long have you been crying outside? Were you actually waiting for her that long?

“Don't say anything,” you said, looking away, as curls fell over your e/c eyes. “It's just something stupid, really.”

“I don't think it's stupid,” she said.

You let out a weak humorless laughter, this one slightly more bitter than the last and it pained Isabela to know that she was the cause of your current state—though some part of her brain still blamed her primo.

“It's fine. It's just that—never mind, I'm just gonna go,” you said. “Have fun with your morning ritual, señorita.”

You gave her one final smile before you turned around to leave when...

“Wait.”

Her hand shot for yours, rough and calloused as evident of years of work you poured into your craft, a clear contrast to Isabela's soft ones.

You turned around, looking at her in confusion.

Isabela once thought to herself that you looked the best when the sun casted its glow on you, but she realized that you were just as breath-takingly beautiful in any other setting as the deep bronze of your skin reflected the soft glow of the moonlight. Briefly, she wondered what it would feel like to run her fingers through the coils of your hair.

It was so easy to get lost in your beauty that she suddenly forgot what she was there about until your voice, empty and lacking the warmth she's grown familiar with as a distant observer over the years, pulled her out of her stupor.

“Do you need help with your morning ritual?”

Isabela cursed at herself for staring. It was clearly not the best time for it.

“No,” she said as she removed her hand from yours.

“So can I go—”

“No!” she blurted out, surprising you both by her sudden outburst. “I mean—no, I—” Isabela took a deep breath. “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” you said. “There's really nothing to apologize for.”

“No, you don't get it,” Isabela said. “I'm sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

“I still don't...oh.”

“I can explain,” she said. “You probably expected someone else—”

“Why didn't you just tell me?” you asked. “Or was I just some silly experiment for you because you're not attracted to Mariano?”

“No, that's not it!”

“Then what is it!?” you exclaimed. Isabela flinched as your whole demeanor changed. She already expected that you'd be furious but she wasn't actually prepared to see it. For so long all she saw was your warm disposition. “You just wanted to have fun and lead me on? Do you know how long I've been crying like an idiot waiting for you here? Or just how much I've cried before I asked you to even come here!?”

“I didn't know it was you!” she said. “Camilo and your hermano set us up, and I didn't know that you were...well, you.”

“So it's me that's the problem then.”

“No!” Isabela answered almost immediately.

“Then what is the problem!?” you asked. “Is it because I'm a girl?”

“No, I mean, yes—well, no!”

You sighed in annoyance before waving a hand in front of you in dismissal. “This is pointless. Just forget everything that happened. I'm sure that's what you wanted anyway.”

“Y/N, please, just let me explain,” she pleaded.

“You could've just told me you were into guys!” you said. “Was it so hard to just tell me that I wasn't what you were expecting? Because goddammit, Isabela, you just had to make me go through all of that pain before you could tell me all of these?”

“Isn't that what you wanted? For me to come here and explain myself to you?”

You snorted out a laugh. “Yes, so thank you for finally growing a conscience and deciding to meet up with me after I cried and waited for three hours.”

“I didn't mean to!” she said. Your frowned deepened and Isabela knew it was a weak excuse, but she didn't really mean to hurt you that badly. She should have just gone with her original plan. “I was...scared, okay? It's not like I wanted this to happen.”

“Scared? Scared of what? You lead me on and broke my heart, and you're just...scared?”

“Yes!” she said. “I didn't mean to cause you this much pain. I was just scared of everything! Just because I'm no longer dressed in pastel doesn't mean that I'm still not scared of what my abuela would think of me, of how everyone would think of me, and what about you? I was scared you'd hate me if you knew the truth!”

“So it's okay to hurt me because you were scared?” you asked in disbelief. “How difficult was it to just tell me that you were into men?”

“But I'm not into men, Y/N!” Isabela exclaimed. “I like you! I've liked you since the first time I saw you or when I was still in a relationship with Mariano, I know it's messed up but I really do genuinely like you! For years! I just...didn't know Camilo would pick up on it and pull something like this.”

You were rendered speechless as you stared at her and Isabela was horrified to have just blurted all of that out.

“What do you want then?”

“You, Y/N,” she said weakly. “I really thought I could finally move on from you, but...I really like you, Y/N. If I could have a second chance, I'd take it.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, filling in the atmosphere between you and Isabela with silence.

“Please say something, Y/N...”

After a second or two, you finally opened your eyes again and exhaled. Your eyes softened and Isabela didn't know if it was from understanding, pity, or exhaustion. Perhaps all three at once.

“If I did give you a second chance, what will I be then?” you asked. “A secret? A friend? Some forbidden affair once you're pressured into getting into a relationship with a man again?”

“Y/N—”

“Between your image and me, which one would you choose?” you asked.

“You, of course,” Isabela answered immediately, though she failed to mask the uncertainty in her voice.

“Would you tell your family right away?”

“Dolores and Camilo would know—”

“Would your abuela? Would the rest of your family know?” you interrupted.

“It will take time, but they will!”

“For how long?” you asked.

Isabela hesitated to answer and that was all it took for you to turn away from her as you weakly nodded your head.

“Do us both a favor,” you said. “And sort your priorities first.”

Not waiting for her to speak, you started walking away.

“Y/N, wait!”

୧ *·˚ Dolores Madrigal┆↰

-> 🌹dandelions // 02.06.22

-> 🌼s/o wakes them up for a weird thought at 3am // 01.22.22

୧ *·˚ Isabela Madrigal┆↰

-> 🌹 bored // 02.22.22

-> 🌻butterflies // 02.14.22 to ???

-> 🌹cupcakes //02.13.22

-> 💐 i won't say i'm in love // 01.29.22 to ???

-> 🌼 s/o wakes them up for a weird thought at 3am // 01.22.22

୧ *·˚ Mariano Guzmán┆↰

“We need to talk,” you said as you finally caught your girlfriend alone in front of her room.

“Can it wait? Abuela is waiting for me.”

“Isabela—”

“Y/N, amor, I promise I'll make time for you later,” she said with an annoyed sigh as she continued to walk downstairs. “You know how abuela—”

“Let's break up.”

The words you've been wanting to say for a long time finally spilled out of you. You thought it would be difficult but it came far easier than saying empty I love you's.

Isabela turned to look at you, eyes wide.

“A-Amor?”

“Let's break up,” you repeated, your voice monotonous as you regarded Isabela with an empty gaze.

“You're...you're joking,” she said, straining a smile.

“I'm serious, Isa,” you sighed. “We're not working anymore.”

Sometimes, you weren't even sure if you were still in love with her or if it was only the memories you shared together that you were attached to.

Now you knew which one it was.

You did everything for her. You forced yourself to change for her. And for what? Just so her abuela's view of her wouldn't waver because she's “friends” with you.

You loved her so much that you started loving yourself less and in turn, you've grown number until you came upon the slow realization that nothing between you was real anymore.

This wasn't the Isabela you grew in love with. The Isabela you loved was buried deep in the past, long forgotten along with the girl you once were.

“I'm not happy,” you answered simply.

“But I thought you were happy,” she said.

“I was happy for you,” you said. “I pretended for you.”

“Then tell me what's not making you happy,” she said, holding your hands in desperation. “We'll...We'll work through that. Just please, Y/N...”

Her lips started to tremble as tears welled up in her eyes. You looked away.

“It's over.”

“We could still make this work,” she said through a shaky voice. “Just tell me what's wrong so we could fix this!”

Some part of you felt guilty and told you to work things through with Isabela, but you knew that was impossible. Not when she still played the role of the perfect child.

Though, even if it was possible, you no longer had the same feelings you had for her. There was nothing more than emptiness now.

You shook your head.

You just felt tired of everything, and it must have been visible on your face because Isabela's grip on you slackened.

“Y/N, please—”

“Isabela?”

Almost immediately, Isabela let go of you as both of you turned to look at her abuela.

“What are you still doing here? Señora Guzmán and Mariano are waiting for you downstairs,” the eldest Madrigal said, looking at her disapprovingly.

“I-I'm sorry, abuela. Y/N here was just—”

“I was just leaving,” you said, offering a polite smile to señora Alma. You could feel Isabela's eyes boring through you. “I'll see you around, señora.”

“Y/N—”

“Goodbye, Isabela.”

Isabela looked at you, her eyes glassy as she silently begged you to stay.

“Isabela,” her abuela called out.

Isabela closed her eyes as she took a deep, shaky breath before opening them again and nodded her head. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

You swore on your ancestors' grave that if you died in that basement that day, you'd haunt Isabela for the rest of her life and make it so miserable that she'd wish it was the devil she was dealing with.

Because there was no way you'd be telling her the details of what you just wrote in that letter nor were you willing to give it to her. She'd have to yank it out of your cold, decaying hands.

"Drop dead, Isabela," you hissed as you tore the letter up to shreds, making sure that nobody could piece them all together again.

Isabela frowned before her face dropped to a mask of neutrality. She shrugged her shoulders in nonchalance and went to seat on a chaise lounge nearby. “Suit yourself, we'll be staying here until you tell me what you wrote.”

“Mirabel will find me,” you said. “Your prima has super hearing, and papi will be coming home later.”

As soon as you said that, vines completely covered off the only door to your freedom.

“Are you fucking—you know what? I'm not playing your game. I'd be dead before you force it out of me,” you huffed and went to seat in the corner, pulling your blanket tight around you.

“Do you really have to make everything so difficult?” she said.

“I'm making things difficult?” you scoffed. Everything within you was nothing but pain and discomfort, you would have ignored Isabela had she not been managing to successfully pull your strings. “I'm not the psycho who locked us in here!”

“Oh please, like I'm the one who's grown an obsession in writing my name everywhere.”

If looks could kill, she would have dropped cold right that instant. Unfortunately it doesn't so all you could do was huff and turn away from her, body leaning sideways as you opted to face the wall.

“Fuck you,” you mumbled under your breathe, though the dark-skinned beauty seemed to have heard it.

“You'd love that, won't you?”

“Keep your delusions to yourself,” you replied, still not facing her.

You shouldn't have brought her there, you thought to yourself. You just wanted to get rid of her quickly so you could rest, and you were honestly starting to consider other methods to do just that—if only all of them weren't made illegal.

“Hm. Well if you aren't going to tell me about that letter, might as well explore a bit more.”

“Don't touch anything,” you warned. “Everything in here is worth more than your pathet—”

“Such a pretty mirror.”

You turned so quickly that you nearly had whiplash, though you didn't care much for it at the moment as you glared at Isabela.

“Don't touch that—”

Isabela blinked innocently at you over her shoulder before, ever so slightly, touching the surface of the mirror.

This bitch.

You narrowed your eyes at her.

“Oops.” She touched it again, this time tracing a straight line across the mirror with her index finger. She regarded you with a challenging smirk, one that you badly wanted to wipe off that pretty face of hers.

Then she went on to skip to another item with exaggerated optimism.

Your died a little more inside when she stopped in front of one of the mannequins.

“You know, something this pretty shouldn't be kept in here,” Isabela made a show to hold the mannequin, as she turned to face you, angling the display so that it created the illusion of her wearing the golden dress and lifted the skirt to one side. “How do I look?”

You would have loved to tear Isabela into ribbons for blatantly disrespecting a vintage collection from some French noble's unorthodox dress in 18th century France.

However, you'd be lying if you said that she wouldn't look gorgeous in it—then again, it was Isabela, she'd look good in any color of any dress on any style regardless.

She was honestly so beautiful it's painful.

Though, of course, you weren't about to admit that to your sworn enemy.

“Stupid,” you deadpanned. "And get your hands off that before papa rises from the grave to haunt you."

Isabela rolled her eyes and set the mannequin back in its place before setting off to find another object to occupy her time with.

"And what's this supposed to be?" she poked a perfectly conditioned stuffed toy sitting harmlessly on top of another chest. "Something your overseas aunt gifted you?"

"No, but it did come overseas," you said and Isabela turned to you, suddenly curious. Truth be told, you didn't particularly care who it actually came from, however...you've known Isabela long enough to know that she never, for whatever reason—jealousy perhaps, fancied the idea of you getting another person's attention. Not that you were any different, Isabela was just far more obvious in showing it than she cared to admit.

"Oh?" Isabela asked, cold eyes suddenly glued to the object as she now held it in her hands, regarding it with obvious distaste. "Who is it from then?"

"What? You think señorita perfecta Isabela Madrigal is the only one who's allowed to have a boyfriend?" Not that you had any. A line of suitors, sure, both from the village and the ones that your aunt somehow managed to bait into courting you.

Despite that, none ever managed to catch your attention as your eyes were already set elsewhere.

"You have a boyfriend?" the way Isabela turned to you was nearly comical as she gripped the poor teddy bear so tightly that you were sure it would explode soon enough.

"Why? What's it to you?" you replied, coughing a little into your blanketed fist before a thought crossed your mind and you snorted with a roll of your eyes, "Or, did you really think my world revolved around you?"

You had never seen Isabela more pissed in your life even as her lips curled upwards to form a smile without it looking awkward. You supposed acting all perfect for her family did have its merits.

"Just like how you've written your letters?" she said. "Or did you forget why we're here in the first place?"

Well played, Isabela. Way to throw the ball back at you.

"We're here in the first place because you decided that my business is yours to begin with."

"Really?" she replied. "Last I checked every single letter I saw had my name written on them."

Great, now you two were back on phase one.

You shoulders shook with mirth as laughter bubbled up your throat. Isabela only stared at you when you stood up from the ground a little light-headed, blanket falling to your feet, as you approached her while clapping your hands sarcastically.

"Congratulations!" you said as every drop of humor you found in your situation dissipated into thin air. Everything about this whole ordeal was honestly starting to get under your skin and it didn't help that you had a growing migraine. "Isabela Madrigal could read! What next? Do you want to sing the ABC's too?"

"Classy," she replied.

"Are you trying to prove something?" you asked.

"You were never afraid to speak your mind," she said. "What made it different this time?"

"Nothing is different," you said almost immediately, making Isabela's eyebrows raise at your defensiveness. You rolled your eyes. “I'm just gonna wait until you grow enough sense to let us go."

You turned around to retreat back to your little corner. You just wanted to rest and that headache won't go away on its own.

"Sure, run away like the spineless coward you are."

You stopped on your tracks.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve? Because that's what you are," Isabela said. "A spineless coward." She said each word with added emphasis, making you turn to her.

"Call me that one more time—"

"Call you what? A spineless coward?"

You glared daggers at her. If there was anything you hated more than Isabela and confronting your own emotions, it was being called a coward.

"Go on," she said. "Return to your little cocoon—"

"Is there something you want to hear about, Isabela?" you asked her. “What do you want me to say?"

Isabela opened her mouth to speak but you didn't let her.

"Because fine, if you wanted to hear it so badly then let me summarize it for you," you said. "I want nothing to do with you, okay? I hate you and nothing's ever going to change that. Mirabel was right about everything because I am sick of this. I'm sick of you, I'm sick of this thing between us, and I'm sick of everything so yes, I want you out of my life because I hate you!"

You said it, actually more to yourself than her, if only to convince yourself that whatever feeling you had every time you and Isabela weren't busy tearing each other apart never existed.

You thought that maybe if you just said it a few more times or maybe spent a few more sleepless nights writing about it, maybe then it would be real. That maybe every I hate you's you've shared between each other hadn't evolved into something far less hostile over the years.

Yet as you said that, even with how petty your relationship with Isa was, every single word would leave a bitter taste in your mouth, and you especially wanted to take it back the moment Isabela's eyes glazed over.

Her jaw tightened as she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away while blinking back the tears that formed in her eyes.

Guilt pooled at your stomach.

"Fine," was all she said. No snarky remark, no comeback, just a hard, cold, empty...fine. With a wave of her hand, you heard the door creak open. "I'll tell Mirabel to get—"

Your head fell on her shoulder. It wasn't a hug, but it was as far as you could go given your near indestructible pride and the confusing nature of your feelings towards towards her.

You felt Isabela tense with the sudden contact, most likely taken aback as it was the first time you two made any physical contact without being aggressive. You could almost hear the gears in her head working, trying to apprehend the situation and honestly? You didn't blame her.

You did just tell her that you wanted to forget about her existence and even then, you couldn't get your head around the idea that you were preventing her from leaving, the exact opposite of your goal just minutes prior that moment.

You didn't see it, but Isabela's hands hovered around your figure in uncertainty.

I'm sorry, you wanted to say. I didn't mean it.

"I hate you," you said instead in resignation. Don't leave. "I hate you and your insufferable presence."

You heard Isabela sigh as she finally went to embrace you. You melted into her arms and you didn't like how you've never felt so comfortable in your life.

“You're one to talk."

You laughed on her shoulder, suddenly aware of how exhausted you really were. Your senses finally catching up to all of those sleepless nights you spent in the past week.

Isabela loved you. She really did. She prayed endlessly, looked out for 11:11, blew every dandelion in existence, made sure that she got the part of the chicken with a wishbone in it, and nearly joined a cult just so she could be with you.

It might have been a little bit overboard, but was it they worth it? Absolutely.

It was clear to anybody who knew Isabela that she was head over heels for you.

This woman was ready to do anything for you. Just say the word and she'd be willing to learn how to grow flowers on the moon for you to gaze upon every night.

Of course, that included trying out your cooking for the first time. Like, how bad could that possibly be?

Sure, you were a kitchen newbie whose knowledge in boiling water was next to nothing, but she was confident that you can do it! After all, you grew with your tía who was great at cooking, yes?

Except all that hyping up came stumbling down the drain the moment she took a mouthful of that cutely decorated cupcake you've worked so hard on—and perhaps, she had been too confident.

“How is it?” you asked, awaiting judgment.

It was a mighty battle for Isabela to fight off the wince that threated to form on her face, and an even tougher one to smile through it all.

She nodded her head, giving you an encouraging thumbs up as she struggled to chew the cupcake.

It was like having the ocean in her mouth.

“Really?” your eyes lit up as you smiled from ear to ear, quite proud of your cupcakes.

Isabela's heart swelled at the sight.

If it meant that she'd get you to smile like that, she was more than willing to sacrifice her kidneys for you.

Now if only her body didn't make swallowing so difficult...

Isabela nodded her head with a smile.

“If you liked it then maybe your abuela might like it too,” you said as you turned around, nearly making her choke—on the plus side, at least she was finally able to swallow.

“My—my abuela?” she asked.

“Yes, your abuela!” you said in nothing but enthusiasm as you got the cupcakes out of their molds. “Actually, maybe I should bring some over for your whole family. You know, for a good first impression?”

Isabela laughed nervously. “Yes, yes...that sounds...absolutely wonderful!”

“Or would señora Alma appreciate something more Colombian?” you asked. “But I won't have much time to make them—”

“Y/N,” Isabela said.

“How do you make flan de coco again—”

“Y/N—”

“Mierda, I forgot mi tía's recipe—”

“Y/N—”

“What if I just—”

“Mi amor.” Isabela placed her palm against your cheek, gently turning your head to face her amidst your rambling. “They'd love you with or without your cooking.”

More emphasis on the without, but Isabela wasn't about to dampen your spirits as a complete neophyte in the kitchen. Maybe her mama would even get to teach you that you don't put the whole ocean on any dessert at all.

“And I think I'd rather just enjoy your cupcakes on my own.”

Well, less on enjoyment and more on making you happy.

You leaned into her touch, absolutely smittened with her just as she was with you. “You're too sweet, mi vida.”

“Only because you bring out the best in me,” Isabela smiled before pressing her lips against yours. Your arms made its away around her neck as you brought her closer to you, deepening the kiss when...

“Isa?”

Isabela hummed as you broke away from her, the taste of your lips an effective remedy to the lingering taste of the cupcake she just ate.

"Are you not going to open that, hermana?" your younger brother asked.

You didn't need to turn away from your work to know that he was talking about the untouched package on your desk paired with an unopened letter.

“I'm not in a hurry, Matías," you said as you cut up butterfly pieces from an empty iridescent sheet, careful not to make their edges jagged—although splotches of paint on your desk did threaten to destroy them.

“But look at it!" he prodded. “Someone actually took the time and effort to give you something like that.”

You spared a glance at the neatly wrapped gift, complete with a perfectly tied f/c bow and you swore you could catch the smell of flowers wafting from the letter.

“I wouldn't be doing this right now if I'm not in a rush,” you said before pausing to add, “You haven't seen any butterfly ornaments lying around, have you?”

To say that Matías looked suspiciously nervous by that question was an understatement, but your exhausted brain couldn't quite register that.

After all, you had been working all night for a client, as evident by the random splotches of boldly colored paint against your clothes and your darker skin—you were pretty sure there were some in your curls too, although you hoped not.

“Come on, would it kill you to take a break?” he said.

“And how do I know that this isn't merely one of your schemes?” you asked, raising a brow as you finally dropped the scissors in your hands and leaned back against the upholstery of your chair.

“Just give it a try,” he said, pushing the gifts in front of you.

“Fine,” you said, finally relenting. “But if I find out that this is one of your pranks, you're eating raw cabbages for a month.”

“Isabela, my favorite prima!”

“No,” Isabela said as she walked past her cousin, immediately greeting him with vibrantly colored flowers hitting him in the face—he was lucky they weren't poison ivies.

“I haven't even said anyth—”

“Not interested.”

Her foot was already on the staircase when Camilo blocked her path.

“What do you want?” she seethed, not in the particular mood to deal with any of her cousin's schemes. All she wanted was to lay in bed and rest for the day. Was that too much to ask for?

“So you know about that secret admirer of yours—eek!”

Isabela rolled her eyes and pushed him aside, not wanting to hear yet another word from Camilo's mouth, as she continued ascending the stairs.

“Did you even give it a read?” he asked.

She did not. Besides, it wasn't like she didn't have a mountain of confessional letters rotting away in some corner of her room.

It was quite flattering, really, that people still liked her even after she came out of her phase of perfection, but someone like Isabela had no time for romance. Not yet anyway, at least.

“If you have nothing else better to do, just go bother your hermana or anybody else.”

"I would buuut...this is for you," Camilo insisted. "And Dolores is already with Mariano."

"Then tell the guy that I'm not interested!"

"Actually—"

Isabela sharply turned on her heels and glared down at her cousin who nearly stumbled backwards with her abrupt halting. She crossed her arms against her chest, clear exasperation written all over her features.

"Actually what?"

"Actuallyyy..." Camilo trailed off, looking away before shoving the letter into Isabela's hands and running away. "I think it's best if you just figure it out yourself! Bye!

"Camilo!"

"I'll come back for your response later!"

Isabela stared at her primo's retreating figure in utter disbelief and if looks could kill he would have dropped dead then.

Groaning, Isabela clutched the piece of paper in her hand and stomped off towards her room, fuming. Well, there's another letter to her trash collection.

Except the moment Isabela entered her room, she turned to look at the letter in her hand and only then did she realize that her secret admirer hadn't even bothered choosing a clean paper. It was covered with splatters of ink and paint, very much unlike the previous ones she'd gotten.

It was a tiny detail, yet one that piqued Isabela's interest. She went through all that headache with Camilo so she might as well read it.

With a sigh, Isabela carefully opened the piece of parchment, expecting cheesy lines or some letter of adoration...only to be met by a single sentence.

Please scream if you're being held captive.

She snorted at that. What kind of secret admirer would write that just because she hadn't responded back?

Yet Isabela couldn't help the amused smile growing from the corners of her lips and with a roll of her eyes, she finally slid in front of her desk to write a returning letter.

If I was held against my will, I don't think I'd be able to scream...although, I must say that you aren't completely wrong in that aspect.

You had been reluctant to open the letter just moments before, unwilling to fall for whatever schemes your brother had in that head of his, but since you actually had nothing better to do that day, you decided to just go with it.

You thought about throwing the letter away and just leave the conversation at that. However, the second you picked up your pencil it wasn't a sketch that you came up with, but another note addressed to this "secret admirer" of yours.

Wrong in what aspect? That you've been caught by my "irresistible charms"? You flatter me.

Isabela nearly laughed at that. Her? Caught by her secret admirer's irresistible charms? It was laughable. She didn't even know what he looked like.

She glanced at the vibrant blue butterfly ornament seating on her desk, its iridescent wings glowing in a myriad of colors as it bathed in the golden light of the sun spilling through her window.

At least he had some interesting talent.

"Don't forget the flowers," Camilo whispered. Isabela glared at her cousin over her shoulder.

"Why would I give him flowers? He's the one courting me!"

"For their...butterfly collection?"

Isabela stared at him, and it took a lot of back and forth's before she was finally convinced—or rather, annoyed to the point that the headache was too much to bear—to send her secret admirer...some flowers.

Obviously. We wouldn't be talking right now if you weren't so worthy of a swoon. Anyway, I might be wrong but a source told me that you liked butterflies, so perhaps some marigolds and celosias to enhance your collection?

You held the bouquet close to your chest. You had seen a lot of colors in your lifetime, mixed a few more for your canvas, but none ever came close to the vibrancy as the ones you held in your arms.

As an artist, it was something that you could truly admire for hours. The arrangement itself was already an art of its own.

Though, of course, you wouldn't let yourself be swayed so easily.

As you set the bouquet aside, you sat down to write yet another response.

"Someone is happy," your hermano commented with a grin to match your own.

"Shut up," you said, giving him a playful nudge with your arm before turning to look back at your handiwork. A bracelet made out of butterfly sequins and some chains.

It wasn't anything special. You just enjoyed making simple jewelry out of butterfly sequins in your spare time.

“You know, I could already hear abuela from the grave.”

“Oh, really?” you said, amused. “What is she saying?”

“Y/N, why are you staying in here and not chasing after the love of your life!” he said with an attempt to imitate your abuela's voice.

You laughed and rolled your eyes at your brother. It wasn't like you knew who your secret admirer was. During the month of you two exchanging gifts and letters, his name never even came up and though you've enjoyed the intrigue of the anonymity of it all, you did wonder just who this mystery person was.

“Well, abuela,” you started. “There is no love of my life."

"You say that but you couldn't wait for the next letter," your brother teased. "Oh! And those dreamy sighs and faraway look you get whenever you think about—mhpmf!"

You picked up a pan de queso on your table and shoved it into his mouth.

"I can't call him that when I don't even know his name, Matías," you said. "Or what he looks like."

"...He?" your brother asked as he swallowed a piece of the bread.

"Yes, he, my secret admirer," you sighed, cutting up another cardboard. "For all I know you could have just picked up a random old man off the streets of the encanto to fill up the void that's supposed to be my love life."

Your brother laughed awkwardly. "Err...About that....I think I have something to tell you—"

"Ah, crap, I ran out of glue again," you said as you started to stand up from your seat. "I'll be back. Don't touch anything."

"Wait, Y/N—"

You turned to him. "Do you want me to buy you anything?"

"Um, no, I just—you know what? Some more pan de queso would be nice."

It was a lovely day out in the village. All sunshine, no rain, people going about their day with smiles plastered on their faces. Best of it all?

Isabela wasn't forced to sprout flowers every second of the day.

"You should get him this," Mirabel said, grabbing a ridiculously colored poncho from some random stall in the market.

Isabela rolled her eyes playfully. At that point, everyone knew about Isabela's secret admirer. Camilo just couldn't simply keep a secret for the life of him if it meant teasing his eldest prima.

"Funny, Mirabel," she said sarcastically. "Now go get what you came here for so we can get home faster."

"What, so you can write letters to your super secret lover?" her younger sister teased. Isabela stared at her, unamused. "Alright, alright, I'll go get the fabric—but I'm not wrong, am I?"

Isabela flicked a flower at her sister's face, although a smile was present on her lips. She wasn't wrong. Writing letters to her secret admirer had become the highlight of her days.

From sarcastic flirtations to talking about your days to telling each other about their secrets nobody else could have possibly known, it was something that Isabela slowly grew to cherish in her heart. In fact, the mere thought of it was enough to make her heart flutter.

Though, there was still the problem that she still had zero clue on who had been sending her the notes and gifts.

"I'm gonna go buy mama's ingredients," Isabela said as the flower finally fell from her sister's face to reveal a shit-eating grin. "Don't go causing trouble anywhere."

"Don't worry, we'll be home before you get to see your next letter."

Isabela rolled her eyes with a sigh but said nothing more as she turned to walk away, only to bump into someone else.

She stumbled forward, being caught off-balance then whirled around to see another person on the ground and a bunch of bags lying around.

She immediately went on her knees to help.

"Are you okay?" Isabela asked, gathering some glue, some iridescent sheets of paper, some bread—okay, maybe not the bread. Those were no longer edible.

"Yes and I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bump into you," the other person said as she quickly bundled up all her belongings while mumbling something about Matías probably not minding dirty bread. "Are you okay?"

"Well, yes I'm—" Isabela froze when she finally looked up to turn to the most beautiful person she's ever laid her eyes on. Y/N Muñoz.

And it felt like seeing you for the first time again. The sun casted over your figure, giving a golden ethereal glow to the absolute goddess that you were and Isabela swore she was hearing angels sing.

"...Isabela?" you said.

"Fine!" she blurted out, startling you and herself. "I mean I'm fine, are you? No wait, I just asked that."

Laughter bubbled up from your throat, a sound that was a blessing to her ears, before you pointed at her head. "You have flowers on your head."

Isabela felt her cheeks growing warmer as her hand shot up to remove them.

"Here, let me," you said, stopping her as you grew closer to remove the flowers on her hair. She actually felt like fainting there and then, suddenly forgetting everything that happened in the past month she hadn't actively sought out to catch the briefest glimpse of you. "...and I think that's it."

"Th-Thank you," Isabela managed to sputter out before remembering that both of you were still on the ground...or that she still held your belongings. "Oh! These are yours."

You took the items in her hand, your fingers briefly brushing against hers. Isabela nearly melted but she had to remind herself that there was someone else in her life now.

Besides, everyone knew that you were unattainable with how you brushed off every single suitor in the village, including Mariano himself before being set up with Isabela.

"Thank you," you said as you stood up from the ground, brushing away the dust from your skirt.

Isabela did the same, although she couldn't help but admire how you decided to dress yourself, the colors of your clothes perfect matching your dark skin.

Then her eyes caught a glint on your chest. Wait, that looked familiar.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, staring at the dried flower pendant hanging around your neck.

“Oh, this?” you said, grabbing the object of interest. Isabela had failed to notice the way your eyes lit up. “It was given to me by someone.”

“Who?”

“I...actually don't know his name.”

Isabela pursed her lips.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“I need to have a talk with Camilo,” she said before turning on her heels and walking away, leaving you confused.

“Hey, Isa—”

“Not now Mirabel!”

“Where is Camilo!?” Isabela burst through the doors of casita and had it been possible, there would be steam coming out of her ears in that moment.

“He's...in the kitchen...? Isa, are you okay?”

“No!" she answered as she stormed past Luisa and as soon as she got to the kitchen, she grabbed her cousin's arm and dragged him over the nearest room. She shoved him inside before locking him with her, blocking off the only exit with her vines.

“Uh...what did I do?"

“What did you do?” she repeated through gritted teeth. “I don't know, Camilo. What did you do!?”

“Yes...that's what I'm asking?” her primo laughed awkwardly, shrinking away from the fuming Isabela.

“Who's my secret admirer?” she asked.

“About that—”

“Just give me a name!”

“It's Y/N!” he squeaked out. “Matías's sister.”

Isabela's face fell.

No, that...that wasn't right. She thought it was just some guy deciding to play with both of your feelings but—no, that can't be.

All this time, she was talking to you and Isabela didn't know what to make of that. Some part of her felt giddy with happiness yet another was just a whirlwind of emotions that partly wanted to kill her cousin.

“You're lying,” she accused.

“I'm not, I swear it's Y/N!” Camilo insisted. “I just thought that maybe you'd finally have the confidence to talk to her if we pushed her to send you letters, and you did! I'm just trying to help!”

And there she thought she was being subtle especially since she's always had a crush on you for years, and for Camilo, out of everyone in her family, to notice that...

“Since when did you know?”

“So remember that time after casita was rebuilt?” he laughed sheepishly and Isabela blinked, suddenly remembering things.

She definitely just talked to Camilo disguised as Dolores who was only trying to get seconds—and neither of them had even told her.

Isabela slapped her forehead.

“Does Y/N know?”

“Well...” he trailed off. “Matías never mentioned anything.”

Cacti appeared on the ground, standing dangerously close to Camilo's feet.

“She called me a 'he'!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, you talked to her—”

“Does she even like girls!?”

“That's up for debate—eep!” a cactus appeared beside his head. “Matías said that he thinks she does!”

“Dios mío...” Isabela said. “You two are basing off of assumptions!?”

“You like her, she likes you, I don't see the problem here—”

“Camilo, you can't just assume what and who people are into!” she said.

“She's into you.”

“Yes, because she thinks I'm a guy! How am I going to tell her that I'm not!?”

“Walk up to her and—”

“It's not that simple! Have you thought about how abuela would react? How her family would react? How everyone else would react? How she would react!?” her voice grew increasingly louder with every question when a knock came on the door.

“What!?”

“I'm just...trying to check in if you two are okay?” came the worried voice of her sister, Luisa. “Is Camilo still breathing?”

Isabela sighed and removed the vines before she opened her door.

“Do not talk to me.” She glared at Camilo before storming off.

Over the course of the next few days, there were no new notes or gifts, or even any news about your secret admirer and you had grown increasingly worried.

Everyday that you waited, your brother would be empty-handed as you handed him yours to be sent out to the mystery guy of your affections.

“Still nothing?” you asked.

Matías would shake his head, an apologetic smile on his face.

And you'd nod your head in understanding. Maybe he was just busy.

The first few notes you sent out were normal, though making sure to ask if your secret admirer was doing okay and telling him that you were always there if he needed anything at all.

Then it grew increasingly worried as you tried to desperately reach out, yet you'd receive nothing in turn.

“Did something happen?” you asked your brother one day.

He'd pause, thinking about his answer carefully. “Just give it some time.”

You'd stare at the ceiling every time, trying to remember what you could have possibly done wrong. Did you say something he didn't like? Did he see you do something that he hated?

All of those would lead to late nights pouring all your emotions into long letters that you never got to send for the most part.

You watched as the flowers in your collection wilted with nothing else to replace them, leaving a rather depressing view of your once lively butterfly collection.

Sometimes you'd cry, though you still hanged onto that sliver of hope that maybe he'd return again.

The lack of response had left you heart broken and hurt after a while, a little bitter even.

Was I only a game?

You'd write to him.

Was I only some other girl to add to your collection?

Some days, you won't even eat, preferring to lock yourself up in your studio to drown yourself with work. Sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, it didn't.

Are you happy now that you've conquered my heart and left it in pieces?

“I don't think you should write anymore,” Matías said one day as you handed him a piece of paper, looking at you in worry.

“One last letter,” you said, sounding tired. “And I'll forget about him.”

“Hermana—”

“Please,” you pleaded. “For me?”

Matías stared at you before he finally nodded his head. “Fine, but no more after this.”

If you ever cared about me, meet me in front of the chapel at 10PM tomorrow night. I'll be waiting.

Isabela turned to look at the clock on her desk. 1AM. Guilt pooled at her stomach.

She's read every letter you've sent, felt the weight of every word you wrote yet nothing was enough to overpower her fear of how you'd react or what everyone else's reactions would be.

Her abuela might have accepted the fact that she didn't want to be with Mariano, but she was still expected to be with a man.

And Isabela still had the lingering fear of disappointing her abuela and her family. It wasn't something that could be taken out of her system easily.

She thought about going to you and explaining herself, but...it was better that way.

You'd forget about her and move on, maybe find some nice guy who won't be forced by his cousin to mislead you.

The first time Dolores met you all those years ago, she thought you were dead. Just lying peacefully amidst the field of dandelions with a pile of dirt sprinkled atop you and your hands neatly folded on your stomach while holding a white puff of dandelion seeds.

Dolores was already spooked but then you just had to shoot up from the ground, eyes wide open, and scream your lungs out.

You were the weird new kid in the village and Dolores had almost been certain that she wouldn't have to see your face again after that one traumatizing encounter.

Except she did, and you two ended up nearly inseparable throughout the years.

“Hey, Dolores,” you'd whisper to her as you climbed up to her window seamlessly, an action that would have your mother blast your ears off.

Once upon a time, she might have done so as well but you were far too stubborn to listen so she just stopped bothering a long time ago.

She turned to look at you from her bed, a book on her lap, already expecting your arrival from a mile away.

Her heart picked up its pace when she saw your familiar smile.

“I have news!”

You excitedly ran up to her, a bag over your shoulder, as Dolores raised a brow. What kind of news could you possibly have to someone who hears everything?

Regardless she was still happy to see you.

“Slow down, Y/N,” she said, standing up to meet you halfway through and checked your arms for any signs of cuts or bruising.

You rolled your eyes with a dramatic sigh. “You don't always have to do that.”

“Do what?” she asked, frowning when she saw just the tiniest cut on your forearm.

“Treat me like glass!” you said, but Dolores only hummed a response as she went over to grab an arepa from her nightstand and handed it over to you. “I'm not that fragile.”

Except you both knew that was a lie, because you were that fragile. She wouldn't have to stock up on her tía's food if there wasn't such a huge sign on your back that asked for death to come and reap your soul.

Oh, look, she could already see the faintest signs of bruises running along your arms, most likely from your climb or whatever it was you did before that.

“I wouldn't be if you treated yourself more carefully,” she said. “Now, eat.”

You groaned but didn't protest, taking the arepa from her hands. Your eyes immediately lit up from the first bite.

Dolores couldn't help but smile, letting her heart flutter at the sight. Having you around was like having a third child. So easy to please yet too stubborn to listen.

But she wouldn't have it any other way, she just wished you were more careful given the circumstances you were thrown under.

“Do you think your tía Julieta ever poisons her food?” you asked.

Dolores really wished she could punch your arm without potentially killing you—okay, perhaps that was an exaggeration but she wouldn't like to risk it either way.

“If she did, you probably wouldn't even know,” she let out a laugh. “So what did you want to tell me?”

“Oh!” you said, suddenly remembering your original intent as you finished the last bits of your arepa. Suddenly, your demeanor changed as you lead Dolores towards her bed by the hands and sat down. “Promise me you won't tell anyone.”

“Okay, I promise I won't tell anyone,” Dolores replied, trying so hard not to melt then and there as she looked deep into your eyes. Did she ever mention that they were the prettiest? Or how it was the reason for her favorite color?

Because it was, and it especially took great effort not to think about the feel of your hands on hers.

“Dolores, I think I'm in love.”

Dolores twirled a dandelion in her hand as she watched you from afar mingling with the other villagers, a bright smile on your face and a wistful look on hers.

All she could think about was, why couldn't it be her? And who was this other girl? Why had Dolores never heard of this Valentina?

“You're crushing the dandelion, Dolores," she heard Isabela say as her cousin smiled and waved at anybody who would glance her way.

Dolores sighed and released her grip on the yellow flower, its crushed petals falling to the ground.

“So what did Señorito/a Y/N do this time?” Isabela said as she went to stop beside the heartbroken girl. “Broke their ankles, nearly bled to death, traumatize some more children?”

Dolores let herself laugh at the last one, albeit weakly and a lot less humor than she intended.

Isabela gently nudged her cousin as Dolores leaned on the entrance door of casita, just watching you laugh with the others.

“Y/N is in love with someone else,” she finally said and she swore she could hear the remaining pieces of her shattered heart getting pulverized to dust.

“What? That Y/N?” Isabela asked in clear disbelief. “Who?”

“Some girl named Valentina.”

“Who's Valentina?”

“I don't know.”

“That can't be right.”

But it was. She didn't know who Valentina was, she's never heard the name Valentina in the village, never heard any Valentina speak within the village so it must have been some outsider you met during one of your dangerous escapades.

“Why don't you just ask Y/N then?” her prima suggested.

“It's not as simple as that.”

Well, it was. She just didn't want to pretend she was okay if she'd hear you speak another word about some other girl. There was already enough game of pretend with her family for her to handle.

“Yes it—” then Isabela froze. Dolores turned to look at her cousin who looked like she was in distress before breaking into a smile. “I'll be in my room if you need me.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Dolores turned to where Isabela was looking and sure enough, Mariano was walking towards them.

She sighed.

With you, sometimes she'd forget that her whole family was broken one way or another.

Needless to say, Dolores ended up entertaining Isabela's "boyfriend" but unbeknownst to her, you were gazing at them with a less than pleased look.

“I thought you were done with the dandelions?” Dolores asked as she sat next to you right by the hills overlooking the village.

It's been a while since she saw you blowing the little seedlings into the air, a ritual she was certain you've moved past from years ago when you'd always run away from your family.

You looked a little glum if she was being honest, though you somehow still managed a smile.

Except it didn't quite reach your eyes.

“A little wish can't be bad, right?” you chuckled. You sounded uncertain, so unlike you. You had always been certain even in the stupidest things.

“What did you wish for?” she asked, picking up a stem of dandelion clock off the ground, before blowing it into the air and watched as the seedlings flew away.

“If I told you it wouldn't come true,” you said, earning a playful eyeroll from Dolores. You laughed at that.

There was the twinkle in your eyes, the one she had fallen in love with as your laughter played in her ears, sweeter than the sweetest melody. Her heart fluttered at the sight.

Oh, the things Dolores would do just to run her hands through your hair, hold your hand without question, or just press her lips against yours.

She always had the chance to confess, but now your heart belonged to another and that bitter reality came crashing in like a wave bigger than anything her own mother could produce.

“I think you'd like Valentina,” you told her.

And just like that, the one thing she wanted to avoid so badly came back and stabbed at her again.

“Really?” she said, turning to look away, not wanting to see the look of admiration in your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hummed. “She's nice, but you're probably the only one who'd appreciate her.”

Dolores looked at you again, confused. “Why?”

“My mom won't like her,” you explained. “My sister probably would but I don't think Valentina would be good for her.”

“But your sister likes everyone.”

“I know,” you sighed, flicking off the dandelion in your hands. “It's just that...Valentina is...it's complicated.”

“Is she pretty?” she asked, though it was painful.

“The prettiest.”

“What is she like?”

Then your eyes sparkled once more, sending Dolores through another level of pain. Would you ever talk about her to someone else with that same look in your eyes?

It hurt, but you were happy. How could she take that that away from you? You smiling had always been one of the things she loved, even if your reason behind it was the cause of her pain.

“The sweetest,” you'd say. “Meeting her felt like fate, you know? It was love at first sight. I mean, she was feisty at first but she's sweet once you get to know her.”

She wanted to stand up and run away, but she stayed where she was.

She smiled even if it was hurting her and listened to every word that you said about this girl from your stories.

As time went on, your late night visits with Dolores had started to decrease more and more until you stopped coming altogether.

She hardly saw you or heard from you, your time spent mostly in the forest to meet with the love of your life.

Obviously she'd grow upset and bitter as whenever you'd meet her, you'd just tell her that you were busy with Valentina while you were all bloodied up and bruised, hardly any explanation for what was happening to you.

While that was happening, she'd spend her time with Mariano just because her prima didn't want to.

“I'm fine, Dolores,” you said, brushing her off as you went to grab some food from her tía.

“What do you mean you're fine?” she said, getting increasingly frustrated. “You're all covered up in blood and bruises!”

It was unlike her to yell at you so you were just as surprised as her when she did.

“Dolores—”

“No,” she said, moving away from you when you went to grab her hand. “Just go spend some time with Valentina.”

She went to turn around and walk away, except she didn't expect you to retaliate.

“Fine. I hope you enjoy your time with Mariano then.”

She'd turn again to look at you but you were already walking away.

She didn't know what that was supposed to mean when you were the one who divided your friendship. Were you expecting her world to revolve around you?

Because it already was and it was all starting to crash down.

Every night since then, Dolores would be crying herself to sleep in bed. Sometimes she'd see your figure outside her window, sneaking off into the night to go into the forest.

She didn't know what was so special about this Valentina that was worth risking your life for.

It was well in the middle of the day when Dolores found herself talking to a crestfallen Mariano, trying to console him because Isabela has yet again decided that her boyfriend didn't exist.

“Am I doing something wrong?” he sighed as he sat at the front steps of casita, hugging his guitar. Another failed attempt at wooing Dolores's prima.

In another world, Dolores might have fallen for him if you never existed.

“I'm sure Isabela didn't mean to,” she said, seating at a respectable distance away from Mariano.

“She's giving me mixed signals, Dolores,” he said dejectedly.

She smiled apologetically at him and opened her mouth to offer her advice when something tiny dashed through between them.

Dolores blinked, wide eyed, turning to the thing in question when a villager stopped in front of them, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"Dolores!" he said. "Have you...huff...seen any...huff...wolf pup?"

"A wolf pup?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, it stole my wife's arepas!" he exclaimed. "It has this...this yellow collar around its neck and...and blood!"

Dolores glanced at Mariano who did the same.

"I think I heard it going that way," she pointed to her right. The villager gave her his thanks before running off to the direction Dolores pointed to before she stood up from the ground and entered the casa.

And sure enough, there it was behind the column, a bright patch of red a huge contrast against it white fur, though it didn't seem to be hurt in the slightest.

The moment she saw it, her stomach dropped.

She wasn't supposed to care, but some part of her told her that something was not right. There were only two other people she knew who were crazy enough to adopt a wild animal.

And she was certain her parents won't let Antonio anywhere near anything with sharp fangs and piercing claws.

It snarled and growled at Dolores, an arepa between its teeth.

"Uh...is it safe to approach that thing?" Mariano asked behind her.

But before they could do anything, the tiny wolf ran in a blur under them, making Mariano shriek. Dolores, without a thought, followed after it soon after.

"Dolores, wait!"

Trying to keep up with the tiny creature was a struggle but when it finally entered the forest, the little voice behind the back of her head grew louder and Dolores forced her burning legs to go faster, ignoring how the woods scratched at her skin and her clothes as her mind was only focused on one thing.

"Slow down, it's dangerous out here!" she heard Mariano say from behind her, but Dolores didn't comply and continued following after the trail of the wolf pup while straining her ears to hear anything from you or anything that came from this Valentina.

But she couldn't hear you nor the other girl, the noises of a nearby stream overpowering anything else. Her anxiety only grew worse.

At long last, the wolf pup finally came to a stop and Dolores could see the tiny one dropping the arepa on the ground, pushing the thing forward with its snout as it whimpered and whined.

The trees were obscuring her vision but when Dolores finally entered the clearing, her heart immediately sank to her stomach.

You were leaning against a tree, all soaked and barely holding up, a huge gash on your obviously broken leg with a piece of cloth that did nothing to stop the pool of blood from forming around you.

Nearby, she could see a trail of blood leading to the stream towards you.

Without another thought, Dolores immediately ran and kneeled in front of you, hands holding your head on eye level. She could see blood dripping from your nose and your eyes struggling to stay open as you looked at her.

She could hear the wolf growling at her but with whatever energy you had left, you calmed it down by place your bloody hand weakly against its head.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out.

"You'll be okay, you'll be okay," she whispered as her lip trembled, struggling to keep her tears at bay for your sake. "Everything will be alright, I promise." She didn't know if she was trying to console you or herself.

"Ay, dios mío," Mariano said as he finally entered the scene. "Call for help, I'll carry them to the village."

Dolores gave you one last look before running away to do as she was told.

By the time people were informed of your situation, everyone rushed to help Mariano get you to the village quickly as Isabela tried to comfort her crying prima in her arms.

You were put in a room within the casa, locked away with her tía and anybody else who decided to help. Unfortunately, you were unconscious by the time you arrived so they couldn't just shove down her tía Julieta's food down your throat unless they wanted you to die from choking so everything had to be done through the excruciatingly slow process of wiping your lips with a cloth damp with her tía's cooking.

"They'll be okay," Isabela said, rubbing circles on Dolores's back as they waited outside the room. Your mother was also there, crying her eyes out while being consoled by your sister and Mariano. "It's mama treating Y/N, they should be fine."

But that wasn't true. Nobody in the village was a doctor, her tía Julieta wasn't a doctor, nobody bothered studying medicine the moment her tía got her gift, and the hospital was a few miles away. Who knew if you were internally bleeding? And what of your blood loss? She knew her tía couldn't fix that, she couldn't just make blood magically appear or disappear like a stomachache.

The wolf pup scratched at the closed door, whining.

She stayed there waiting as hours ticked by and when her tía did finally came out of the room, the little wolf immediately running inside.

Her tía was startled but it only took a second to compose herself. "They're conscious."

Your mother cried loudly, thanking God for answering her prayers.

"Where are they?" Dolores asked immediately. Julieta opened the door and saw you trying to keep the wolf pup at bay at it attacked you by licking your face repeatedly, tail wagging in glee.

It didn't take another second for Dolores to run inside and tackle you into a hug, catching you by surprise.

"Dolores...?"

"You idiot," she sniffled into your shoulder. "We should lock you up in a basement."

You laughed awkwardly at that, then Dolores broke away from the hug and wiped her tears away. She's just so happy to see that you're actually alive, although worryingly pale.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Still dizzy, but I'll be fine," you said as your gaze landed on the wolf pup, scratching it behind the ears. "I see you've met Valentina."

She let out a weak laugh. "Yes, she was stealing arepas—" then she stopped when realization struck her.

"I'm surprised she didn't bite you," you said. "She likes biting new people...or maybe it was just me." You looked back up at her. "She didn't bite you, right?"

"What did you say its name was again?"

"Valentina," you said. "She's a girl. I found her alone a month ago."

Dios mío. All this time...Dolores, you absolute idiot.

"Why—" but you were interrupted when Dolores pulled your collar and pressed her lips against yours. You were taken by surprise but you did return the kiss. When she pulled away, you two just stared at each other wide-eyed. "O-Oh."

Dolores's face was flushed, realizing what she had just done. "I'm sorry—"

"I thought you liked Mariano."

She blinked at that. "What?"

"I mean you two are always together, laughing and smiling," you explained. "That's why I stayed away because I thought you liked his company better."

"That's not true," she said, reaching to grab your hand. It was a little cold. "I'd always love your company the most...and I may have assumed that Valentina was another woman."

This time it was your turn to be confused. "What?"

You two stared at each other for a few second before breaking into laughter. All this time, she realized that you two would've avoided all that unnecessary drama had you just set your jealousy aside and communicated properly.

Once the laughter died down, you squeezed her hand, albeit weakly. You tried braving to look at her, only to end up avoiding her gaze. She had never seen you so shy and that made her heart flutter, a familiar feeling that hadn't been there for a while since you two drifted apart.

"You know I've always wished for this moment," you said, smiling sheepishly. "I mean I hope that kiss meant something because it would suck if I assumed wrong and that was just another big misunderstanding—"

"Y/N," she said with a smile and you turned to look at her, anxiety written all over your features. "I like you."

She always had, and saying it out loud was elating as if a huge weight had just been lifted off her shoulders.

Your smile slowly built up and she could see the tears building up from your eyes.

"I-I like you too," you said, choking back a sob. "Now can you please come closer so I can kiss you again? I just want to make sure everything is real."

“Isabela, mija.”

The dark-skinned beauty immediately turned to her mother holding a pair of ripped pants, presumably from her father, with a smile on her face, having just walked downstairs that morning. “Yes, mama?”

“Can you please fetch me the sewing kit from the L/N’s? Your sister forgot to bring it home again.”

Isabela’s smile faltered as she let out an awkward laugh. “Can you repeat that again? I’m pretty sure I just heard you say—”

“I did mean the L/N’s, Isa,” her mother gave her an apologetic smile. Isabela wasn’t one to back away from any of her mother’s requests but...

“How about Mirabel?” she suggested.

“She went to run some errands for your abuela.”

“Dolores?”

“She has a date with Mariano,” her mother replied.

Isabela tried to keep her smile even. Who goes on a date at 8am in the morning!?

“Camilo?”

Her mother shrugged her shoulders.

“Luisa?”

“She’s busy with the village.”

“Busy!?” she exclaimed. It was supposed to be her sister’s day off!

Her mother sighed. “If you can’t do it, it’s fine.”

Oh no, she was using that tone. Isabela had always hated that tone—the one where her mother sounded sad and defeated that made a crashing wave of guilt wash over her and seep through her bones.

But no, no she was absolutely not going to relent. She did not want to see your face, not when her tia Pepa was particularly happy that morning.

You woke up with the worst headache of your life—and no, it wasn’t in the form of your longtime rival, you woke up with a literal headache accompanied by colds, a fever, and everything feeling like burning sandpaper against your skin.

You wished you hadn’t convinced your papi to leave for work and played your sickness off as nothing more than the common cold because it wasn’t and it’s only gotten worse since then.

You lay cocooned in layers and layers of blankets on the couch, hugging the old stuffed toy your late papa gave you. It was the only comfort you had at the moment as you patiently waited for Mirabel’s arrival, though you were quite certain she wasn’t going to arrive until two hours later.

For the meantime, you could just doze off.

Except the moment you closed your eyes, a series of impatient knocks erupted from the front door.

Groaning, you rolled and fell towards the floor before standing up on your feet, shrugging off the extra blankets on your shoulders and made your way to the door, clutching the only single blanket you had on closer to your body.

The knocks didn't stop, growing even more impatient with every passing second and each one sending your head in a frenzy of throbbing pain.

You wanted nothing more than to strangle whoever was on the other side of the door and you were sure it wasn't your apprentice. Mirabel would have walked in unannounced like she owned the house.

You nearly ripped the door off its hinges as you swung it open out of annoyance.

“What do you—” but the words got caught up in your throat as your eyes beheld Isabela freaking Madrigal at your doorstep, nearly looking as surprised as you, raised fist frozen in the air.

Up close, you could see the distinction between the old Isabela and the present one. Where her hair had once been perfectly combed and well-kept, now with strands sticking out of place yet not enough to make it look too messy, while all the pinks and pastels she once wore were now replaced by vibrant colors, from the streaks on her hair down to her dress.

On any other person, you would have screamed bloody murder with the color choices, but it suited her. It was charming. You wouldn't admit that out loud though.

“You look like shit.”

And of course, Isabela just had to say that.

Your face twisted into a scowl, suddenly remembering the relationship you shared with Señora Julieta's eldest.

“What do you want?" you asked, cold enough to freeze the fires of hell over.

Out of all the days this hell spawn had to visit you, it just had to be the one you weren't physically prepared for a bitch-off.

“Don't worry, I didn't come here to ruin my day,” she said, pushing you off to the side to let herself in but not before flipping her hair over her shoulder. You caught a whiff of flowers just before it hit you on the face.

The absolute audacity of this bi—

“I came here for Mirabel's sewing kit,” Isabela said just as you were about to scream at her to get out.

You gave her an incredulous look. Isabela's face was begging to be elbowed at that point, and it was an effort not to.

After insulting you to your face, hitting you with her hair, and walking in uninvited, this girl just really expected you to hand over her sister's sewing kit? She was lucky you were sick, otherwise you would have her clean every inch of your house, mow the neighbor's lawn, milk the cows, and run around the Encanto on ten inch heels before you'd give Isabela what she wanted.

Was it petty? Absolutely, and did you care? Of course not.

Unfortunately, you were sick and you wanted nothing more than to lie down and get rid of the insufferable presence that was Isabela Madrigal.

So with a roll of your eyes and a wave of your hand, you said, "Follow me."

Isabela really tried her best to stay nonchalant, pretending to check her nails when she wanted to steal glances your way or pretending that she didn't want to be beneath you and would walk next to you just so she could be a step closer to your blanketed figure in case you fell.

When she said you looked like shit, she meant it but not in the way you were hideous.

Your eyes were hollow, skin deathly pallor, and she was almost certain that you somehow managed to shed some weight the last time she came face to face with you around a week ago.

Worry gnawed at her stomach. She may 'hate' you but she wasn't a monster.

"We could go see my mom after this," she said, only briefly looking at you as you turned to her. Then she added, "You look like the walking dead." If only to let you know that she hadn't gone soft just because you were sick.

"Well, I'm sorry for making you worry, señorita," you scoffed. "But no need, I'd rather die than go with you."

Isabela's head snapped towards you, exasperation written clearly on her features. You were really choosing your pride over your health?

Yet before she could mouth you off, you've already spoken, only noticing then that you two have come to a halt in front of an iron door with frosted glass and detailed with bronze accents.

It might have been a questionable design choice for the interior but it was beautiful.

"They didn't know where else to put it," you explained as you twisted the key that was already there on the door. Isabela looked at you questioningly to which you replied in annoyance, "My dads, Isa. You know, when the other one was still alive?"

It was unsaid but Isabela knew that the anger you held was no longer there, buried beneath years of healing and slow acceptance, though she still felt like you still blamed her for it—like it was her fault that her mother's magic never worked on your father's.

She didn't answer, choosing to stay silent as she watched you struggle to push the door open.

"Some help would be appreciated."

Shaking out of her stupor, vines sprouted on the ground with a flick of her wrist and pushed the heavy door open, making you stumble forward but Isabela caught your arm just in time.

You glared at her.

"Ask and you shall receive," was her only answer before you pulled your arm away from her and entered the dark room.

Isabela rolled her eyes. Not even a thank you.

She trailed behind you as you walked down the stairs, making sure to watch both of your steps.

It was dark. The only source of light being the one spilling through the doorway and Isabela could just make out unmoving human figures, among many other things, through the darkness.

Some part of her mind told her that she was probably going to be murdered. It was silly...but she wouldn't really put it past you to keep her in whatever dungeon you kept in your house.

As soon as you two reached the bottom of the staircase, you went ahead to open the lights and the moment you did, Isabela found herself stunned.

The room was filled with a variety of things that would have been considered ostentatious by their village's standards. Rows upon rows of mannequins filled one side of the room, wearing dresses and suits that were far too flamboyant to be worn so casually with accessories that were easily as extravagant. They all looked weird yet Isabela found them all beautiful.

Then on the other side were more things she's never seen before, less colorful yet obviously foreign to her village—like that slightly curved sword displayed atop an antique wardrobe or that weird doll behind a glass cabinet.

"Don't touch anything. Wait here," you said before walking away.

Why you even kept Mirabel's sewing kit in a place like that was beyond her. Your basement looked like a museum and she was just in awe at everything. It served as a reminder that there was a whole world out there beyond the mountains.

Isabela watched as you disappeared from the shelves and only then did she let herself wander around to admire every treasure you hid in your basement.

A broken ice chandelier, a glowing green pebble framed in glass, a glass slipper, a beautiful dried up lily-like flower she's never seen before, the broken pieces of a dragon statue, an old photo of little you and a pig with the name Isabela written atop it—she wasn't quite sure whether to be flattered or insulted that you apparently named your old pet after her.

Yet she couldn't help the smile that slowly made its way to her lips, suddenly remembering all the quarrels and fist fights you two had ended up in as children.

She moved onto the next item, only to realize that she arrived to the more personal items of yours. Old frames of photos lie discarded on the ground, photo albums collecting dust in one corner, little items and toys that some Isabela recognized from when you both were younger.

You always bragged about them, telling her that your papa or aunt brought you toys from overseas, only for you to end up crying afterwards because little Isa would throw them over the roofs.

Then her eyes landed upon the open trash bag hiding in the shadows, nearly invisible had it not been for the plethora of papers littered around it.

Closing in, Isabela realized that they were old sketches of yours judging by the color of the papers.

You said not to touch anything but...Isabela kneeled down to get a closer look, reaching for anything that grabbed her interest. A dahlia flower. Casita. Mariano. Your pen dragged repeatedly over one of the crumpled papers.

She couldn't make out the person, your pen ruining the portrait beyond recognition.

Then when she moved onto the next paper, there were only four words written.

Dear Isabela, it said. Fuck you.

Dear Isabela, I hate you so much.

She rolled her eyes at that. Not surprisingly, those were the words you'd write to her. She was more surprised that you didn't actually send it to her.

Then she grabbed another paper—yet another letter addressed to her.

Then she grabbed another.

Dear Isabela—incomprehensible scratched over words—fuck.

And another.

Isabela Isabela Isabela Isabela—her name scratched over and over and over again with the angriest handwriting she's ever seen, filling up the whole page, until written in small letters were, why can't I get you out of my head?

Isabela dropped that one and quickly grabbed another. This time, though, she managed to grab an envelope that seemed much more recent than the others, this one vaguely smelling of your sweet perfume. She checked the recipient of the letter.

Her, again.

She carefully opened the envelope and grabbed the letter—except there wasn't just a single letter as another piece of paper fell down on the ground.

She dropped the envelope to take hold of the other paper and upon opening it, she saw a well drawn portrait of her and below were words written in the prettiest handwriting,

To Isabela, the wildest flower in the village.

Signed by you and dated...a week ago.

She checked again to make sure, and indeed it was a letter. Addressed to her. Written by you. A week ago.

Dearest Isabela,

Her heart fluttered. She hated how it did that, yet she couldn't help but anticipate what you've written for her.

Setting the portrait down, the dark-skinned beauty carefully peeled your letter open.

I will never send this letter to you. I hate you with all my heart, have hated you since we were six, and I'll continue hating you 'til the day I die...but I especially hate that I think Mirabel might be right—

But Isabela wasn't able to read the rest of it as a hand snatched away the piece of paper in her hands. Startled, Isabela turned to look at you, a more than displeased expression written all over your face.

"What did I tell you about not touching anything and to wait where you were?"

"What was in that letter?" she asked, completely ignoring what you were just saying, as she stood up from the ground.

"What?" you asked in confusion.

"That letter, Y/N," she demanded. It could just be her, maybe it was a genuine letter of hatred.

But what kind of person would draw someone else so beautifully just to write a letter of spite?

You raised the letter in front of you and Isabela swore your already pale skin had turned several shades down when realization settled in.

"So what was Mirabel right about?"

You brought the letter down, crumpling it in your hand as you glared at her. "It's none of your business."

"My name is written on it so I think it is," Isabela said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I wrote it, I didn't give it to you so it isn't," you replied, angrily shoving her sister's sewing kit to her chest. "Now get out, Isabela."

She'd seen this anger before—the time you told her how her family's magic was a load of bullshit for not being able to actually help yours, but perhaps it was unfair to compare it to that, perhaps it wasn't.

However, Isabela could tell that you were near your tipping point, and over one letter at that.

"No, I don't think I will," she stood firmly on her ground just as the door shut close with a firm 'click' that bounced off the walls, her vines doing its work.

"You did not just—"

You and Isabela have hated each other for as long as you could remember, and no matter how much you two avoided seeing each other, you'd still end up being face to face with Señorita Perfecta—what was left of the perfect girl you once knew at least.

I mean, your houses were facing each other and your bedroom window was directly across from her balcony! Seeing each other was unavoidable at that point.

It was like the stars aligned to make both of your lives miserable.

But you being spiteful of each other wasn't without reason either.

You still remembered, clear as day, being bitter about not winning an art contest for the children in the Encanto just because Isabela could pull flowers out of her ass.

You, of course, being the six year old kid that you were who was quite the sore loser, told Isabela to her face that she was a fake who only won because she was a Madrigal and of course, she didn't take kindly to that and demanded you apologize.

You didn't and instead tore her artwork to pieces. Fists went flying everywhere after that.

Needless to say, you've hated each other since then and have even brought your rivalry to adulthood, fighting over the pettiest of things.

Nothing changed either even after Casita was rebuilt.

“Ugh, look at her,” you said as you looked up from your sketches, a spiteful gaze specially directed at the bright blue figure of Isabela Madrigal who was busy trying to make crops sprout in front of her family's casa.

“You're still playing that game?” Mirabel asked as she lounged next to you in front of your house.

“What game, Mira?” you snapped. There was no game in hating Isabela Madrigal, no matter which form she took.

“Oh, I don't know,” Mirabel gave you an innocent look before her eyes landed on the dress you were supposed to be working on.

And that's right, you were the town's dressmaker, having taken the mantle of your papa's legacy, which was the main reason why Mirabel could be seen hanging around you.

Aside from the fact that both of you used to share mutual hatred for her sister.

Your eyes followed hers and the moment you realized that you've been absentmindedly scribbling the eldest Madrigal with the angriest chicken scratches you've seen in existence, you closed your sketchbook.

At least she didn't see Isabela's name scribbled over and over again on one of the other pages.

“She was in my line of sight, I couldn't focus on anything else!” you reasoned.

“Riiiight, right, so, um, you still hate Isa even if she's changed?” she asked you.

“Of course, I do!”

Isabela might have retired from being a Colombian Barbie but it wasn't like she ever faked hating your guts. What would she gain from that anyway? As far as you were aware, she wanted the village to look at her as if she was Mother Teresa.

“Yeah, but don't you think that maybe you're too...I don't know, invested in her?”

That...you have nothing to counter with.

Everyday, you wake up and the first thing that would pop up in your head was Isabela. You'd spend hours planning out how to make her day worse without actually doing most of them. From dedicating most of your life into hating her, you've noticed small bits and pieces about the perfect daughter that most people would have otherwise overlooked.

You've noticed how her eyes would light up whenever they'd land on the most bizarre objects or how she'd steal an extra serving of cake when she thought nobody else was looking, or that one time when—

You narrowed your eyes at Mirabel.

“Well?” she pressed on.

However, instead of answering her, you stood up with a huff and gathered your belongings before leaving Mirabel to her own devices.

You were not going to admit anything. You hated Isabela Madrigal with every fiber of your being.

So much so that you felt like drowning every time you looked into her eyes.

And you hated it.

Isabela watched as you disappeared from her line of sight, yet the bitterness brought by your distant presence still lingered like some sort of evil miasma.

“You should talk to her,” came the voice of her cousin Dolores.

“There's nothing to talk about,” Isabela said as she went on to proceed with her task.

But instead of vegetables, she sprouted red roses.

An annoyed frown formed on Isabela's face. You totally just jinxed her.

“So we're just going to ignore that you still made a flower statue of Y/N in your room?” Dolores gave her a side glance as she bent down to pick up a vibrant red rose.

“It's only there because insulting her always makes me feel better,” Isabela defended, earning herself a raised brow from her cousin.

Okay, that was a half-truth. It wasn't only just one and she made them because Isabela hated you so much that you were practically living rent-free inside her head 24/7 that she just had to make several floral statues of you out of frustration, all with different facial expressions. Again.

The last batch have been destroyed along with the old casa.

Every morning since then, you were the first thing she'd see and the first words she'd say were of course nothing but insults hurled at you and your stupid, beautiful face.

You were also the last thing she'd see before she'd close her eyes, and you'd be there in her dreams, haunting every single one of them.

She thought about getting rid of your statues, and she did at one point but that only ended up making her even more agitated for whatever reason.

“Don't you think it's time that you two finally mend your relationship?” Dolores said. “It's been fifteen years.”

“There’s nothing to mend, Dolores,” Isabela replied, removing the roses from her vegetable patch, hissing when a thorn pricked her finger.

Her cousin sighed in exasperation behind her, feeling Dolores’s judging gaze burning holes through the back of her skull as she placed the rose she picked behind Isabela’s ear. “Just admit it.”

Isabela’s eyes landed briefly on her sister who suddenly stood up on her seat to follow you inside your house.

“Admit what?” she knew what her cousin wanted to say, knew that Dolores knew she was playing dumb, but the mere thought of it had her…feeling things that absolutely disgusted her.

Or at least that was what she wanted to convince herself.

“That you’re in love with Y/–”

But before she could complete her sentence, a flurry of colorful flowers went flying Dolores’s way although Isabela spared her from accidentally swallowing a stray petal, unlike with Camilo.

“Isabela–”

“No, I’m not going to admit anything and you weren’t just going to say what you were going to say!” Isabela said, dumping a pile of roses on her feet before stomping away.

She hated you. That was the only thing she had been sure of before and after her phase of perfection.

She hated how you can only smile around other people, hated how she could only hear your laughter from afar, hated how she could never be the reason for both—and that scared her.

she'd be annoyed at first

you're really waking her up just to tell her that she could kill everyone in the Encanto by making plants burst out of their bodies like some sort of alien xenomorph?

it was such a gruesome and disturbing thought

but you were just so adorable that she couldn't get mad at you

especially with the way your eyes lit up as you explained to her the different ways she could use her powers

it was endearing

not everything you said made sense to her but she still listened to all of it anyway

you did get drowsier somewhere along the way though

isa noticed that and decided to pull you closer, wrapping her arms around your body

then your words started to slur until she could hardly understand anything at all

but isa didn't close her eyes until she was sure you were done with your story, incomprehensible mumblings and all that

the moment she heard your soft snores, she gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead

“Good night, mi vida.”

this girl was confused as hell

was something wrong? were you in pain? why were you waking her up?

at 3am in the morning?

then you told her about how humanity could possibly be immortals but oxygen might be slowly poisoning everyone

she'd stare at you as if you just grew a second head

until she actually thought about it herself only then would she get you

of course, dolores wouldn't actually believe that but it was still a fascinating thought

you went into detail about how that could be

and she listened intently to every word that came out of your mouth, nodding to every piece of information

she could honestly listen to you all day (night?). sleep be damned

although she'd regret that later on as she grew sluggish on her duties later that day for staying up so late

her abuela would scold her for it and you'd apologize to her, actually feeling guilty

“I'm sorry for making you lose sleep, mi amor.”

but Dolores would only brush it off and kiss you on the cheek, a fond smile on her face

“It's okay. I love hearing you talk.”

(a/n: need more content for this beautiful hunk tbfh)

he'd be concerned, asking you if you were alright

“Racecar backwards is still racecar.”

and he gasped so loud upon that realization

okay, maybe he was just doing it to humor you

mariano writes songs and poems, he's bound to notice the existence of palindromes at some point

regardless, this sweet guy had offered a few words he knew that were the same read backwards

“A nut for a jar of tuna” had you absolutely looking at him like he was some sort of wizard

he felt a little proud for that, not gonna lie

then you asked him if he's ever written something similar for poetry

he never did

but you can bet on him writing exactly just that for his next poem for you