#ermi writes

Luisa was maybe, only maybe, a bit of a Papí’s girl. She loved her entire family, that was one of her main characteristics, but her papá had a special place in her heart. One of her first memories was sitting on his lap and banging on the piano keys while he told her it was beautiful. And him dancing with her in his arms or being carried on his shoulders.

Maybe she was a total Papí’s girl.

Strained wasn’t the right word for their current relationship because she knew she could just walk up to him and start talking and her Papá would make time for her. Except she was busy and he was probably also busy. Even if that sounded like a really weak excuse given everything she knew about her family and her papá, it was the only excuse she had so she was sticking to it!

So when her gift started flickering, fading, failing she didn’t stop to think about talking to any of her family members. She just pretended it wasn’t and worked “twice as hard” like Abuela had instructed, because Luisa was the strong one and she could do this. Then her hermanita found her, made her actually talk about her feelings for the first time in a long time, and she’d felt better but also not. Because she knew on a fundamental level that breaks were good, music had pauses for a reason but also the donkeys needed to be corralled and the river needed to be rerouted and the church needed to be moved and and and-

The donkeys were heavy.

Heavy like nothing she could imagine. Heavy like 14 years of constant improvement for nothing. Heavy like her entire sense of purpose was gone in a blink with no fanfare or extravagance just gone.

The river and tilted houses and all the bricks or such were forgotten in an instant because if donkeys were heavy there was no use trying to do anything else. She couldn’t do anything else. She wasn’t anything else. Being The Strong One was all she had. It was all she was, had ever been or would ever be. That was it. And without it?

Without it she was running to Casita sobbing and overwhelmed. Too many feelings battling for dominance and leaving Luisa the loser. She vaguely noted running past her mamá in the kitchen and Abuela y Mirabel in the hall on her way to faceplant on her bed and sob until she had to drag herself out of bed for Isabela’s dinner. Luisa knew how important it was so she could wrangle her feelings and stop crying long enough for her hermana to have what should be one of the best days of her life.

Except that Abuela Guzmán asked Luisa to bring the piano and she’d never really refused a request so she got up, crying into her hands, having to drag it all the way to the dining room and was this how “normal” people felt? Was this what Mirabel felt like? Because this was awful and horrible and she couldn’t even move a piano so she was basically worthless and the entire night was ruined and awful and she’s a total loser and going back to her room because it was finally over.

“Luisa? Can I come in?” The door creaked open, moments after she’d slammed it and flopped onto her bed. No. He could not come in. No one should come in because everything was awful and she wanted to be alone and cry and sob in peace. But her bed was dipping and a hand was rubbing her shoulder. “Ay, Luisa, háblame. Quiero ayudar.” She shook her head, trying to suffocate herself with the pillow. Helping was the problem, she couldn’t help without her gift. And if she couldn’t help she was useless. The End. That’s the full story.

But apparently her papá was in a helping mood because she could feel him shifting on the bed, getting more comfortable and kicking his feet up, his hand kept rubbing her back.

“Take all the time you need,” he said. Which really only made her cry more and that was proof he should just leave her here to cry and suffer alone.

“What if I take forever?” She muttered into the pillow, halfway sobbing and feeling nothing like the 19-year-old mujer she was supposed to be and every bit the niña her papí used to rock to sleep. He hummed somewhere above her.

“Then I suppose forever I shall wait,” he said. She choked on a watery laugh, shifting so one eye could peek out at him. “Not so bad, waiting forever. Just sitting here con mi hija, drying her tears porque she is not a loser.” He smirked down at her and Luisa chuckled again, shifting her pillow to his lap so she could be comfortable while she suffocated. He took that as an opportunity to rub her back and neck and they sat in silence for a while. It was… nice. Even if they could hear Tía Pepa thundering outside and Isabela was probably off somewhere wishing Mirabel was never born and Abuela was definitely very stressed out- Luisa didn’t think about any of it. Her family could handle their own burdens for a few minutes while she came to grips with the fact that her life as she knew it was over and she was as helpful as a spoon with a hole in it.

“Papí… I’m losing my gift,” she whispered. So different from shouting it at Abuela and Mirabel earlier, as she was just realizing the implications. Now, she knew it. It was coming true. Her gift was fading, she was losing her strength.

“Well gift or no gift you’re still a part of this familia and you’re still special,” he said. Which, of course he did. Luisa had heard them say it to Mirabel enough times growing up but this was different. Mirabel never had one. She and Papí couldn’t understand what it was like to lose something they’d never had. It probably sucked to not have one, but it was different! “Even without a gift, you’d be the strongest Madrigal. You’d still be my daughter. One of the best musicians in the Encanto. Blue Crayon Scribble Number 7 is still an amazing piece.” Luisa had to sit up to laugh, choking back tears and coughing while she did.

“We both know Red Crayon Scribble 5 was best,” she retorted, sniffling and rolling her eyes at Papí. He paused to think before kissing her cheek.

“You know what? I think you’re right.” She flopped her head on his shoulder, still sniffling but smiling. He continued rubbing her back till the sniffles died down and then he kissed her forehead.

“Luisa, en serio, even if you lose your gift we’ll still love you. You’ll still be you. You’ll still be my amazing daughter who helps everyone and is so hard-working.” That brought fresh tears to Luisa’s eyes. She didn’t want to lose her gift, but it was nice to know at the very least nothing would change with Papí. Even if she never really expected it to, it was nice to hear aloud.

“Gracias Papí,” she said, not bothering to pick her head up but wrapping him in a hug, then slowly sliding down back to her pillow in his lap. “Pero… ¿Quédate conmigo… por favor?” She whispered into the pillow because all her feelings weren’t fighting anymore but she was tired and the idea still hurt and she didn’t want to be alone.

Pepa loved her sister. And her brother and her Mamá, obviously. But she definitely loved her sister, not more than the other two, obviously. But Julieta never handled Pepa, she asked how she was doing and always tried to make her feel better. Mamá just said "you have a cloud" or "Pepa the wind!" and never really asked how she was, unless she was all out crying or hurt but Pepa had big feelings so normally she just needed someone to listen. That someone normally being Julieta. Even Bruno could get a little freaked out, the wind would blow his rats around and his sand would get everywhere.

But Julieta was never like that. Julieta would offer her an arepa and then Pepa would sit on the kitchen counter kneading beating dough into submission and Julieta would listen to whatever she said. Nodding and humming when she was supposed to, calling other people the crazy one and agreeing that Félix was definitely hitting on her and not just "being friendly". Eventually the storm would calm and Julieta would have dinner ready and Mamá would be ecstatic to eat in a dry dining room and Bruno with his rats hidden under his ruana would slip into his chair.

That's how things worked. Pepa knew it. She liked it. She liked familiar things. She liked knowing what to expect. She even liked Bruno's gift because it let her prepare for things to come. And that's why she was in Bruno's room. Because Julieta was acting weird all morning and when Pepa visited her stall in town, she'd been rushed away with a call of "Talk later!" so Julieta could fish a man out of the fountain and it was all very strange. Pepa didn't really like strange.

Bruno's vision showed them all having dinner, but there was an extra seat at the table? Okay, they have visitors all the time, and there wasn't anyone sitting in the chair or even standing by the chair?? They all looked the same age as they do now so it had to be soon. But the thing with Bruno's visions is that they don't come with a date or any context. He had that look he always had when he wished he had more to tell someone, or something different to say so Pepa thanked him and they went downstairs where Mamá was making dinner because Julieta was still in town.

She put them to work immediately, fixing dinner and setting the table. Casita's door slammed open and Julieta, 'calm-and-collected-healer-of-the-town' Julieta was skidding across the floor so hard she bounced off one of the pillars. She popped up, righting herself as hair slipped from her braided bun all around her face, her dress was wet and dirty along the bottom, she was missing a shoe. Chest heaving and trying to smooth the stray hairs around her face, she straightened her dress.

"Mamá," her voice cracked, her siblings looked at each other in confusion. Julieta cleared her throat. "Can, um, can a guest come to dinner? Tonight? As in, in the next few minutes, tonight tonight?" Mamá looked at the healer as she stirred a pot. A slow glance up and down then back to the pot.

"Get cleaned up, mija," Julieta deflated, starting for the stairs and while her back was turned Mamá smiled at the other two. "Y mijo, set an extra place at the table," she said. Julieta full on squealed, pumping her fists in the air and nothing short of flying up the stairs and into her room. Even Mamá chuckled and went back to cooking.

Just as the food was ready, Julieta was screaming from the balcony for Pepa to come upstairs. She finished pouring water into the glasses on the table, and went up, slightly concerned to see her even keeled sister so erratic. Julieta had changed into what Pepa knew to be her favorite dress, it was navy blue and was a little big so it hung off one shoulder and dragged a little but hugged her waist really nicely and had pretty purple waves embroidered on it. It had been a birthday gift from Pepa and Bruno. But the dress was beside the point because her sister dragged her into the room with all the strength of a hurricane.

"Pepa, my hair." Julieta sobbed. Pepa put her hands to her mouth in concern, Julieta had a comb in one hand, and very poofy hair practically floating around her head.

"Juli," she couldn't even think of the right question as she pried the comb from her sister's hand and forced her to sit in front of the mirror. She'd combed out all her curls and what remained was a little too frizzy for salvation or a bun. Pepa hesitantly started to part it, maybe she could put it into two asymmetrical braids and put a bow on the end? Julieta had tears in her eyes as she watched her sister begin to braid the right side.

"So who's this special dinner guest?" Bruno appeared in the doorway, closing it behind him and locking eyes with Pepa when he saw how fluffy Julieta's hair looked. She bugged her eyes back and went back to carefully braiding one side. Julieta's face immediately flushed and she went to tug at one of the curls near her face before Pepa shooed her hand away.

"Be helpful," Pepa hissed, handing the end of the braid to Bruno to hold as she started on the lower left third of Julieta's hair.

"N-no one im-important. Just-just a friend from town. He- his, uh, Mamá is making his favorite food for dinner so I invited him." She was avoiding their eyes in the mirror but her siblings locked eyes over her head.

"So there's a 'him' now?" Bruno drawled. If possible, Julieta's face flushed even more, she opened her mouth but no sound came out. Pepa passed Bruno the finished braid and went over to Julieta's dresser for a ribbon to match her dress.

"You're one to talk about 'him now'?" Julieta snarked, lightly hitting her brother as Pepa came back to tie the bow. Julieta immediately jumped up, dusting off her dress and scrutinizing the braids before hugging Pepa and starting for the door. She stopped with her hand on it.

"Okay okay, because I know you two. Yes, there's a him. Yes, he's coming to dinner," she said narrowing her eyes at the other two and setting her hands on her hips. "But no, you can't do anything! Or-or I won't feed your for a week! No! A whole month! A-A-" her siblings just hugged her, smirking behind her back. "I'm not kidding!"

"Alright, alright. We get it." Pepa said.

"No shenanigans." Bruno agreed.

Julieta had her eyes narrowed but nonetheless nodded and led the way downstairs. Mamá was already sitting at the head of the table and there was a knock on the door. Julieta glared, shoving her siblings towards the dining room so she could open the door. Her siblings sat, intentionally on opposite sides of the table, as Julieta walked back in with Agustín, beaming at him, and glaring at her siblings. She let Agustín sit next to Bruno as she sat next to Pepa. "You're not clever," Julieta hissed but Pepa was smiling her nicest smile and Mamá was already making polite conversation.

Dinner was peaceful. Pretty soon Pepa forgot this was supposed to be strange and that she wasn't supposed to like it. Agustín was kinda funny and he made Julieta and Mamá laugh which was no easy feat so Pepa liked him a little more. She'd known him, of course. He was always at Julieta's stall because he was always broken in one way or another, usually bee stings, but it seemed like he'd been around every day since forever so having him for dinner wasn't new. But the way Julieta was acting was definitely new. And if his nervous chuckles and refusal to look at Julieta when she was looking at him was anything to go by then, something had changed.

"Pepa, the fog. You're foggy," Mamá said and Pepa chuckled nervously, waving an empty plate around to clear the fog. Bruno kicked her under the table, they locked eyes. His eyes shifted to Agustín, then back to her then over her head then to Julieta then her then finally Mamá. Ohhhh! A perfect plan. She nodded once. "Excuse me a moment," Mamá said, looking at Bruno and Pepa with a raised brow and oh, she was definitely in on it. A rat scurried under the table, across Pepa's foot and she yelped, a bolt of lightning striking Agustín's hand. He yelped and Julieta was immediately on her feet. Something about "her room" and "be right back" and then she was gone, out of the dining room in a blink.

The remaining Madrigal's grinned.

"So?" "You and Julieta?" "Best healer in town." "Clumsiest kid in town." "Sounds perfect?" "A little too perfect."

They leaned into his face and Agustín's eyes bugged as he raised his hands in surrender.

"It's not like that. She's just funny and really sweet and-"

"Would you run into a burning building for her?"

"Sí."

"Fight a jaguar?"

"I could try?"

"Flee your hometown with your entire life on your back and ultimately sacrifice yourself for her and your baby to live with no hesitation?"

"Sí."

"Be a Madrigal and take care of this community?"

"Absolutely."

"Never make her cry because if you do you'll have to answer to me and my brother y nuestro Mamá?

"And Mamá can make you disappear so-"

"Sí." He put his hands down, looking the siblings in the eye. "Mira, I've known Julieta for pretty much my entire life. She's an amazing healer yes. That's undeniable, her gift is amazing. But she's amazing. When she's talking to the kids in town or dealing with an angry client or anything she does it with this smile on her face. And she's so careful and gentle and kind and loving. Mira, she may not love me and who knows exactly what our future is? Aside, from Bruno, of course. But, the point it, I promise, I want to keep that smile on her face for as long as I can. If that's till the end of dinner or the end of our lives, I'll take it."

Pepa huffed into her seat, Bruno slowly nodded and sat, patting Agustín on his shoulder. "Ay, so mushy. ¡Tan dulce!" Pepa pretended to gag but she was smiling.

"Alright, if Pepa approves there's not much I can do," Bruno said. Then he tightened his grip on Agustín's shoulder and his eyes glowed. "But I can see the future and if I ever see my sister crying over you, I'll let Pepa go full Old Testament God on you, okay?" Agustín nodded, eyes wide just in time for Bruno's eyes to stop glowing and the missing Madrigals to return. Julieta handed him an empanada.

"I know they're your favorite," she whispered as she adjusted her chair and tucked an imaginary hair behind her ear. Mamá smiled as the burn healed itself.

You were down at the river, washing clothes. A chore you’d been doing since you were twelve. There was nothing special about it. Nothing unique about today. Just beating clothes on rocks and laying the clean ones on another rock to dry. Then a rat with an arepa tumbled out of the skirt you’d been about to wash. You didn’t scream, rats had never scared you, but you did make sure it got out of your basket and on its way. Following the river to some rocks, and hopping across. Oh, it was protecting its ware.

You were curious, so you followed the rat across the river and into the forest, then to the base of the mountain and into a cave. Maybe it had other little rat friends? Or a little rat family?

Or a ghost.

Because the figure standing in the cave before you had to be a ghost. Because he wasn’t alive anymore. He couldn’t be alive anymore. He’d vanished. And the only way he could’ve vanished was if he died.

“Y/N?” You were hallucinating. That was his voice. That was his face. But that couldn’t be him. He was dead. “Uh, long time no see,” he said.

“No. No! You’re dead.” You started backing out of the cave. “I- I hit my head in the river! I tripped and fell and hit my head and now I’m floating downstream. And this is me dying. Am I dying?” Hands grabbed yours. Oh no, ghosts can’t touch people. You yelped, snatching your hands back. His hands were warm. Ghosts weren’t warm.

“Y/N! Y/N. It’s okay, you’re not dead,” he said, holding his hands out like you were a frightened donkey. That was exactly what a ghost would say. You wanted to scream, but if you were drowning that would make things worse. “Y/N, it’s me. Bruno. You’re not dead. I’m not dead. I need you to breathe, okay?” Then he set a hand on your shoulder and you were both breathing and maybe he wasn’t a ghost. Your heart rate returned to normal and you looked at him.

He was skinnier, hair greying and his ruana had definitely seen better days. But the same curls and big eyes. Same soft features you’d grown up with and been friends with.

“No. You- you disappeared…” He nodded, leading you back to the cave.

“I had a vision the night Mirabel didn’t get a gift, I knew how Mamá would react so I didn’t tell her. I left. And I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d be the first person they’d ask. I couldn’t drag you into my familia’s mess.” He was right. Julieta and Pepa had practically kicked in your door when he disappeared, demanding to know if you were hiding him because he wouldn’t do this.

Apparently he would.

“Bruno, we were best friends! I was already in it and I didn’t mind!” You couldn’t believe this. That was a weak excuse and he knew it. You’d told each other everything over the years, why would he shut you out all of a sudden?

“No, Y/N, this is different,” he said. “I- while I was gone I realized some things.” You looked at him, waiting for the big reveal, that you were drowning because that would make more sense than whatever this was. “The miracle is a curse. It has to be destroyed.”

Wait what?

“The miracle? The Madrigal Miracle? The thing that gave us a place to live when people burned down our old home? The thing that saved mis hermanos’ lives after our parents died? The thing that tu mamá has been protecting and guarding for fifty years? That miracle?” You couldn’t believe this. All the things your brothers had gone through to keep you safe, the parents you couldn’t remember because they’d sent their children ahead, the full harvests and safe life you’d always known, and Bruno wanted that destroyed?

He held his hands up. He had to remember what your families had gone through. He had to be joking. “Sí, Y/N, that miracle.”

You turned around to leave. “I’m dead.” It was the only solution. The only possible explanation for why Bruno Madrigal was suddenly alive and talking to you about ruining your entire life and the lives of everyone in the Encanto. He grabbed your arm to pull you back. Eyes pleading for you to understand. You couldn’t.

“Y/N, por favor. Listen to me. Mi mamá hates Mirabel for not having a gift. Mi familia is killing themselves to ‘keep the miracle burning’. We shouldn’t have a miracle! We don’t deserve one!” His grip was tight but the tears in your eyes weren’t from pain. Not the physical kind. You pulled your arm away but he was holding too tight.

“Bruno let me go,” you whispered. He didn’t, still yelling about his familia and their miracle. “Bruno!” He stopped. “Let me go.” He dropped your arm like a hot pot, hands up and looking at you with wide eyes. The tears were streaming down your face now. He might look and talk like your Bruno but he wasn’t. Your Bruno would never do this.

“I-I can’t listen to this. The…. the miracle isn’t just for you,” your voice was barely a whisper. You were imagining your brothers and all they’d done for you. You were imagining Señora Madrigal tucking you in once when you were young. You were imagining the Madrigal grandkids and all the good they’d done. “Your family might have gifts but first and foremost that miracle is for the town. The Encanto. You lost tu papá. I lost mis padres y dos hermanos. And I’m lucky. Some people didn’t even get that!” You don’t know when you stopped whispering and started shouting but he was selfish to sit here and say what he was saying.

“Y/N-”

“¡No! ¡Escúchame! And listen well,” you placed your hand on his chest, your blood boiling. “Too many things were lost. Too many people died. You destroy that miracle and we lose our Encanto! We lose the only safe place we have! You’ve never been out there! You don’t know what it’s like!”

“And you don’t know what it’s like to be a Madrigal! Mi mamá is out of control! Mirabel is a child!”

“A child you abandoned! I don’t want to hear anything from a person willing to leave and who only comes back to burn it all down! The last time mi familia listened to someone like that we lost five of us! Five people I will never get to meet but who I love and miss every day.” A sob tore itself from your throat. He looked hurt, eyes down turned and hands raised in surrender.

Alma had made mistakes. She’d always known that. She knew she wasn’t perfect. Knew she was fallible. Knew she hadn’t deserved Pedro or his sacrifice or the miracle.

And yet here she was, fifty years later. Three healthy children, two son-in-laws and six beautiful nietos. A wonderful village. A marvelous Casita. An entire life that Pedro had never gotten to see or enjoy but they only had because of him. Not a day went by that she didn’t miss him or wish she could’ve traded places. Wished he’d gotten a chance to hear Pepa’s laugh or see Julieta’s smile or see one of Bruno’s plays. Wished he’d seen Dolores’ first steps, Luisa’s birth or Mirabel’s quinceañera. Fifty years of living and loving that Pedro had never gotten to partake in.

Fifty years of suffocating her family and holding on so tight that she’d nearly snuffed out their light. Made Bruno hide in the walls to protect himself and Mirabel. Made Luisa so stressed over her value as a person that talking her into a break involved making her helpful in a different way (reading to Antonio, cooking with Julieta, etc). But the one she felt the worst about, was convincing her dear Isabela to marry a man she didn’t love.

Alma felt bad about all of it, but somehow the idea that Isabela would live an entire life with a man she couldn’t care less about (while her poor prima pined from afar for the love of her life) hurt Alma in a different way than all the others. Maybe because the time she’d had with Pedro was something she would look back on every time life felt like too much. Because Pedro was still her rock fifty years later. Because Love was the entire reason she’d broken her familia in the first place.

But she was trying to be better. She’d actually talked with the familia, and when the words weren’t enough she observed and watched. Watched the way Isabela carried herself in town. Watched how differently Isabela acted with girls and boys her own age.

If Alma was being truthful, it scared her. Isabela acted like Alma herself had as a girl; giggling with other girls, polite but short with boys. The more Alma watched, the more she realized Isabela had always been like this. Dolores had gotten flustered and blushed around boys but Isabela had always been poised and collected. Alma had dismissed it as Isabela being the more confident of the two, but now she could see it for what it was. That Isabela was like herself and didn’t really like boys; not the way Luisa, Mirabel or Dolores did at least.

It terrified her. She knew people were different, knew that the Encanto was a safe place. She also knew that even if the Encanto wasn’t a safe place, the familia was safe and con una hermana como Luisa, Isabela didn’t have anything to worry about.

Nothing to worry about except for her abuela's disapproval.

Alma felt despicable.

So she watched Isabela, saw her hanging out with one girl from town. Then she asked Dolores just to be sure. The simple fact that Dolores was hesitant to say anything, would only confirm that the two were friends and she hadn’t really heard anything, was enough for Alma. She got the nietos to bring their friends (and Friends) to dinner but Isabela would never bring anyone.

As a drastic measure, she asked Isabela to take a walk with her one day, insisting it would be a great break and chance for them to talk. They were just walking by the river, making small talk about nothing important. Not for the first time, Alma realized how little she knew about sus nietos and how little they knew about her.

“When I was young I had a best friend named Ana María.” Alma started, Isabela tilted her head, eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought your best friend was Isabela. Mamá said that’s where I got my name from,” she said. Alma smiled, closing her hands over Isabela’s. She’d taken to wearing darker colors and the strikingly blue dress she had on suited her nicely. Alma was proud of how much she’d grown since getting to try new things.

“Sí, I had a friend named Isabela, she… she didn’t make it to the Encanto,” Alma said. It still hurt a little, all the familia y amigos she’d lost. All the people who never got to enjoy the peace and safety they had. Isabela whispered an apology, squeezing Alma’s hands. “But before her, I had a different… Friend, and her name was Ana María,” Alma could still picture her face. She’d had long red hair, big brown eyes and a crooked smile. She loved to dance, especially in the rain and every time she twirled her hair would fan out around her.

“You must’ve been close,” Isabela said. Alma was smiling in memory and turned to her nieta, squeezing her hands again.

“We were,” she said. Well, it was now or never. “I was close to her in a very similar way to how close I was with your Abuelo Pedro,” Alma said, watching Isabela’s face for the moment it clicked. Isabela had her brow furrowed then her eyes got wide and her jaw dropped and it was like she was looking at Alma for the first time.

“¿Abuela? Y-you? And a girl?” She kept stuttering trying to workout whatever her question was so Alma sat them on a rock by the river, facing one another. Isabela was still gaping, coming to terms with something that had taken Alma a long time (and an even longer conversation con sus hijos) to understand. So Alma just smiled, running her thumbs over Isabela’s hands.

“Sí, mi vida. She was my favorite person. We would sit on the roof watching the stars or the sunrise.” She left out her mamá not approving, and her papá’s forlorn expressions. It was a different time and she’d moved on. She’d had Pedro, and she’d loved him harder and fuller than she’d even thought she was capable of.

“Wow, Abuela. That-That’s…cool,” Isabela said, though Alma could tell by her face that ‘cool’ wasn’t exactly the word she wanted. But what word was there for how to feel when your abuela admits to liking girls?

“Isabela, I didn’t want you to marry Mariano just for la familia,” she looked Isabela in the eye, cupping her face with a sad smile. “I just wanted you to be happy, mi vida. I wanted you to have what I had, what your mamá y tía have.” Isabela was tearing up and Alma wiped them away with her thumbs, pulling the girl into a tight hug. She knew it wasn’t enough, that it might never be enough, but it was a start.

“Abuela,” Isabela whispered, her face hidden in Alma’s collar, so Abuela just hummed her acknowledgement. “Tengo una… amiga. But she might be more than una amiga.” Alma smiled and pat Isabela’s head, running her fingers through thick tresses and nodding.

“That’s fine, mi vida. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. And I’m so sorry for ever convincing you otherwise,” she said. Isabela squeezed her tighter and Alma could feel the relief and forgiveness in the sag of her nieta’s body, even if she didn’t think she deserved it. Eventually, Isabela pulled back, giving Alma a watery smile and sniffing as she hid a little in her hair.

“M-maybe I could bring her to one of our dinners… sometime?” She asked. Alma smiled, nodding and tucking Isabela’s hair behind her ear, cupping her nieta’s face. It wasn’t a time for hiding.

“Sí, Isabela. I’d love that. And we don’t have to tell la familia anymore than you’re ready for. I shouldn’t have made you feel like you have to hide, but it is your story to tell in your own time.” Isabela was back in her arms, holding on tighter than she had in years. Alma held back, the regret and guilt in her chest loosening just a little as Isabela thanked her a million times over.

You could tell yourself that it had been nearly ten years since you thought about him. You could tell yourself that the ring you wore around your neck didn’t burn you every day. Pretend you didn’t see him every day.

You could.

But it would be a lie.

And now, there he was, standing in front of you, one hand outstretched to help you up. He’d always been so kind.

“Papá, ¿estás bien?” A tiny voice popped up, off to your right where you’d pushed him when you’d seen a figure running around the corner. A figure that was staring at you, hand still out. A figure that was turning towards that voice. You were on your feet in an instant, standing between the child and the man.

“Estoy bien, mijo,” you said, slightly breathless from hitting the ground. “Can you pick up the groceries please?” And from the corner of your eye you saw him move to do so, chasing down a papaya that had rolled away. Which gave you the chance to grab one, Bruno Madrigal by the front of the ruana. He shrank under your gaze, hands coming up in surrender but brown eyes darting to the child, your child.

“Uh, hola Y/N,” he said. Really? Ten years and all you get is an ‘hola’? You shove him, the voice. That same soft voice, the same green ruana. The same man. The same man that just vanished before you could even tell him about the baby. The same man you’d married. The same man you’d wondered about for ten years.

“Papaya!” Your kid popped up between you, holding the papaya aloft like a trophy, other groceries in his arms. Bruno recoiled, brown eyes looking between you and Arturo, looking at Arturo’s curly hair and freckles and back to your own face. You smile at Arturo, putting your hands on his shoulders and steering him away from the man, the ring around your neck burning.

“Papaya, mijo. Now, let’s go home, tus primas are waiting!” You got one last look at Bruno over Arturo’s hair before ushering your son away.

—

Señora Madrigal hadn’t kicked you out when Bruno vanished. In fact, she and his sisters had insisted you stick around. The two of you had been married already so it wasn’t a far stretch and there was no reason for the family to abandon you and Arturo just because Bruno abandoned them. So you got to stay. Bruno’s room wasn’t too hospitable so you’d taken to sleeping on the couch which got switched to a bed. Arturo and Mirabel shared the nursery until Arturo got his gift. Life was fine. Life was good. You didn’t need Bruno because he’d never been there.

But now he was back. You’d known what you’d seen. The man you’d loved for years. The man you’d married in a blizzard. The father of your child was alive and well and apparently running around the Encanto. You couldn’t sleep. You grabbed the family picture from one of Antonio’s birthdays and slipped out of the house. Dolores might have heard but she’d been a little sadder recently, less engaged with the family. It didn’t matter anyway.

You walked and walked. All the way to the mountains behind Casita, and into an all too familiar cave. A fire was already lit. Burning and casting the stone in light. And huddled by it, facing the cave mouth was Bruno. You wanted to shout. Wanted to scream. Wanted to punch him in the face and demand he apologize to Arturo for never being there. But instead you felt your knees give out and you just stared.

“Y/N,” he said, but stopped, he hadn’t moved from the fire. Just, a pair of eyes reflecting the flame, so different from how he looked when he had his visions.

“He’s ten years old,” you said at last. You wondered if he’d ever had visions about you while he was gone. “His gift makes him bouncy, he never gets hurt any more,” you laughed, looking at the family picture. “He used to get hurt a lot,” you whispered. In the picture he was smiling, pulling Camilo and Mirabel into a hug while Mirabel was attempting to pick up a wiggling Antonio. Isabela and Dolores were posing next to Luisa, Isabela mid eye roll at her sister. Pepa and Félix were smiling at each other. Julieta was watching the kids. Abuela had a calming hand on your shoulder and Agustín was looking at Isabela. Abuela didn’t like how busy the picture was, but you loved it. Loved this family.

“What’s his name?” You looked up, Bruno had shifted closer, now the fire was behind him and his face was in darkness and you wondered what had happened to the man you’d married. He didn’t deserve to know.

“Why are you back?” Why did you leave? How could you do this? How dare you come back? Did you ever miss us, me? Did- You stopped, looking at him. Looking into his eyes, because you had to understand. He’d straightened, every muscle tensing in a way you’d never seen before. His jaw was set. His hands didn’t fidget. Maybe you were wrong, maybe this wasn’t the man you’d married.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to leave you. I-”

“WHY are you back?” He recoiled at the steel in your voice; the facade cracking for a moment and he was the same anxious man you’d loved for years.

“Mi familia is broken, Y/N.” He moved away, you watched him pace around the cave, shadows dancing on the walls. “They-they think that miracle is… well the miracle is bad. La familia is bad. And, I have to stop them.” He looked you in the eye.

“No, Bruno tu familia is good, they do good. What’re you talking about? What’re you doing? What-”

“Y/N, open your eyes!” He snapped. You stopped talking. He had his fists balled, staring at the wall. “Mamá hated Mirabel for not having a gift! Mi familia shouldn’t have a miracle! What did we do to deserve one? We’re killing ourselves for something we shouldn’t have! Abre los ojos, Y/N. I have to stop them!” At some point you’d gotten up, you’d walked towards him. You were the same height so you could look him in the eye. The firelight casting half your faces into shadow as you shoved the picture into his arms. He fumbled with it, barely catching it as you advanced.

“I don’t want to hear it! You abandoned la familia! You abandoned tu hijo! You don’t know anything about us anymore!” With each exclamation you shoved him until his back hit the wall. His eyes were wide, looking at you like he couldn’t recognize you. Good, because you could barely recognize him.

“The miracle is a curse and has to be stopped, Y/N,” he said softly, looking down, the photograph still in his hand. You snarled, no. No. No. No. He couldn’t just vanish and rise from the dead a decade later to destroy the familia. He didn’t have the right.

“I know you hate your gift. I know the people in town haven’t always been nice to you. I know tu mamá doesn’t always say the right thing. But tu familia is good. They took me and mi hijo in when you abandoned us! They gave us a home! They protected us! ¡Mi hijo tiene un don! And you won’t take that away from him! He never had you, but having a gift is the next best thing,” you said. Bruno looked startled, glancing for the first time at the picture in his hands.

“A gift?”

“A gift.” He started shaking his head, shoving the picture back in your hands, wiping tears from his eyes and turning away. Again.