Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Every day, Julieta Madrigal would spend time in the main square of the village, doling out food for a line of injured people. It hadn’t started out that way; when she was first given her Gift, the villagers would only come to her in need of serious remedies. Someone would rush up to their house, calling for Alma. Sometimes, there would already be food prepared; sometimes little Julieta would be asked to quickly cook up something. It was a little scary to her then, to have this rush of responsibility, but her mamá always praised her and her wonderful, useful gift. It made her feel both better and worse; she was pleased to be helpful, but worried that her sister and brother’s gifts were less appreciated and understood.

Over time, as the demand for her food grew, she began cooking bigger and bigger batches of easily portable items. She genuinely enjoyed her work. The cooking itself was something she loved to do, but seeing the grateful faces of the people she healed was the real joy for her. Though lately, she had begun to realize that she hadn’t left herself much time for socializing outside of her role as healer. She, Pepa, and Bruno had always had each other for company, and Julieta knew she was luckier than her siblings in some respects when it came to making friends (mainly the fact that no one was afraid of her or thought she was odd) so she had made sure to always spend most of her time with them. But as they had grown into young adults, things had begun to change. Bruno loved his mother and sisters deeply, but he was just as deeply in love with solitude. Pepa had started getting gradually more and more boy crazy; she’d had an on-again, off-again thing with a charming boy a year older than the triplets for a while now, and it had begun to blossom from a volatile teenager romance into a real relationship.

Julieta had paid no mind to boys. Well, very little mind, at least. She always put taking care of the needs of the encanto and her family first, and hadn’t really stopped to consider her feelings on the subject of romance. But after hearing the details of Pepa’s love life, she did catch herself sighing wistfully over love songs, and wondering what it might be like to have someone pull her into their arms and hold her there for a while.

It was late one afternoon when she heard the piano music drifting through the open church door. She was on her way home from feeding the injured, basket tucked under one arm, and the notes called to her like a siren song. She followed the sound, entranced; music was an everyday part of life in the encanto, but this was…different, somehow. It seemed both happy and sad at once, at turns passionate and pleading.

She stopped in the doorway and smiled softly in surprise; even from behind, she knew the young man at the piano, though she had no idea he was capable of making such hauntingly beautiful music. Her first vivid memory of Agustín was when she was only seven and he six; he had been brought to the Madrigal casita in his frantic mother’s arms, his small body swollen all over from bee stings after he’d fallen out of a tree and angered a colony. He was the most accident prone person in the entire encanto, and his eagerness to help others often just led to even more accidents. Julieta had been at turns fond of him and annoyed by him over the years, depending on their ages, but the older they grew, the more fondness seemed to have emerged victorious.

As the final note of the piece finished and faded into silence, she called from the doorway, “That was beautiful, Agustín.”

The words startled him; he tried to swivel around to see her, overbalanced, and toppled to the floor in a gangly heap of limbs. Julieta covered her mouth to keep from laughing, then hurried forward to help him up.

“Julieta! I didn’t know you were - I was just practicing - I mean, erm –”

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she interrupted with a smile, as much to save him from his own stuttering as anything else. He seemed all at once to realize that he was still holding her hand after she had offered it to help him up, and he let go abruptly, wiping his palms on his pants.

“No! I mean, yes, you did, but it’s fine. It’s great. You’re great,” he stammered, then blushed and cleared his throat. Julieta was surprised to feel her own cheeks burn hot in return - since when had awkward little Agustín been able to make her blush?

“I didn’t know you could play like that,” she said, nodding towards the piano. “I mean, I know your mother plays in church, and I’ve heard you play before, but not…that was…different. In a good way,” she added hurriedly. “It was….” She trailed off, because what she wanted to say was that it was the most beautiful music she had ever heard in her life, but somehow it seemed that to say it outloud would be to spoil something. “I wish I could make music like that.”

“Do you play anything?” he asked, suddenly eager, and Julieta found herself desperately wishing she played an instrument, any instrument, just to have something in common with him. She shook her head.

“No, I…well, my talent lies in the kitchen. And I can sew really well,” she added as an afterthought, then winced inwardly; she had wanted to make herself sound more interesting by adding another ability, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she felt incredibly boring.

“I could teach you! To play, I mean. Just a little, not…I mean, it takes a lot of practice. I mean –” he stopped, took a breath, and started over. “Here, let me show you.”

He guided her to sit down at the piano, and stood behind her. Gently, he placed her hands on the keys, and placed his hands on top of hers. Julieta felt her stomach flip-flop, and she was glad he was standing behind her so that he couldn’t see how scarlet her cheeks must have turned in that moment. “This is the way my mother taught me,” he explained, and slowly began to guide her fingers across the keys in a simple scale.

Julieta closed her eyes, overwhelmed by all the things she was suddenly feeling; her skin burned where his hands rested on top of hers, and his face was close enough that she could occasionally feel a warm puff of breath against her neck. He was speaking, explaining something to her about the piano, but she couldn’t focus on what he was saying. For some reason all she could think about was how she wanted more of him against her, wanted to know what it would feel like to have his arms around her waist, wanted to know if their lips would burn together the same way their hands seemed to. She swallowed hard and took a deep, steadying breath; he paused, and she opened her eyes to find him looking at her in innocent concern.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

No, she thought desperately as she looked into his warm brown eyes, I’m going to burn up from the inside out, I’m going to spontaneously catch fire and there’s going to be nothing left of me and ohgodwhy thisisabsurd it’s Agustín he’smyFRIEND he'sjustasillyBOY–

“Mmhmm,” she squeaked out, with a nod and a smile. He grinned in return, and continued with the lesson. Slowly, the burning feeling inside her began to be replaced with a comfortable, glowing warmth, and Julieta smiled again to herself. She had a feeling she was going to be asking for more piano lessons.

Chapter Text

Every Tuesday afternoon, they would meet at the church for piano lessons.

Julieta had pretended to pick Tuesday at random, but the truth is, her mother had a long-standing afternoon card game with her friend Mariana Guzmán every Tuesday. It was one of the few times that Alma Madrigal allowed herself to relax and stop trying to take care of everything and everyone in town, and she would usually be late getting home.

Agustín would often be in the middle of playing some beautiful, complex piece of music when she arrived. She would hurry towards the church as soon as she was free from her duties, hoping to get there early enough to stand in the doorway and hear him play a little while before he expected her to be there. Sometimes she would stand just outside so that he wouldn’t notice her too soon, closing her eyes and letting the music carry her away.

She hadn’t told a soul about their Tuesday afternoon meetings. She tried to tell herself that she was keeping the secret because she didn’t want anyone to have any expectations of her actually learning to play the piano, but deep down, she knew she wanted to keep this as something just between herself and Agustín because she didn’t want her family to know. She didn’t think she could bear the teasing and prying from Pepa, or the questions and disapproving faces from her mother.

The routine was generally the same every Tuesday; Agustín always greeted her enthusiastically and awkwardly, then he would play a simple piece for her as an example before covering his hands with hers and guiding her fingers to the right keys. That was by far Julieta’s favorite part; she loved the feeling of his arms wrapped around her from behind, the warm skin of his palms so delicately covering her much smaller hands, the way she could feel vibration of his laughter when he was so close to her. After a few repetitions, he would sit down beside her as she tried to play the piece without his guidance.

She was terrible at it.

Even though her nimble fingers could deftly form a perfectly round, flat disk of an arepa in seconds, she had no talent at all for the piano. Maybe it was just because she found it hard to concentrate on the patterns when Agustín was showing them to her, but she just didn’t have the knack for replicating what he taught her. If she had really been desperate to be good at it, this lack of improvement would have frustrated her; she was so naturally talented in the kitchen that she tended not to stick with things that didn’t come to her as easily. But she knew in her heart of hearts that the only reason she was taking lessons at all was to be near Agustín. For his part, he didn’t seem to mind that his pupil never showed any progress. He didn’t so much as wince when she hit a painfully wrong note; he just smiled warmly at her as though she were the sun’s rays personified and helped her try again.

A particularly rainy afternoon (“Pepa must have quarreled with Félix,” she thought) found Julieta hurrying through the streets towards the church, shielding her basket against the weather. It was usually empty by this time, but she had a surprise in it, and was worried that the humidity in the air might have spoiled something.

She didn’t linger outside to listen today, just barreled in through the doors…only to find the sanctuary empty. Agustín wasn’t at the piano. She frowned, and shut the door behind her. She set her basket down before taking off the shawl that she had draped over her head to keep the rain off.

“Agustín?” she called, but there was no reply, and her frown deepened. He had never been late before, not even once.

Just as her mind was beginning to race with possibilities, the doors burst open behind her and Agustín entered, panting slightly. “Julieta! I’m sorry, I’m late, I - ow - well, you see,” he stammered, holding up one hand to show a significantly swollen thumb. “I was trying to hammer in a nail to hang a picture frame, and – “

“-- you hammered your thumb instead,” she finished, unable to keep from chuckling at him in relief that it wasn’t something more serious. The wind blew in through the open doors, ruffling his hair adorably as he nodded. Shaking her head, she knelt down to uncover the basket she had brought. “Well, I had intended to save this for after we finished, but it looks like you’re more in need of it now.” She pulled out a simple, beautifully glazed pound cake. Glancing up to see him staring with his mouth agape, she quickly explained, “I remembered you said that you weren’t a big fan of too-sweet cake icing, so it’s just glazed. It doesn’t look much like a birthday cake, and I know it’s a day early, but –”

“You remembered my birthday?” he asked, seeming both amazed and delighted. He sat down on the floor across from her, smiling at the cake with a fascination that seemed to Julieta undeserving of such a simple dessert. She smiled back, pleased by his reaction.

“Of course. And as of tomorrow, we get to be the same age for two whole months,” she teased. He grinned widely in return; they had often joked together about how he was only 18 and she 19, and yet he was the one giving piano lessons to her.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said, still grinning. “This is…I didn’t expect this,” he added, and the sincerity in his voice made a happy lump of emotion rise to her throat.

“It’s nothing. You deserve it,” she said, then winced at her wording. “I mean, I’m not saying that you deserve nothing, that’s not what I meant. You deserve – “ She stopped herself short, realizing she had been about to say “you deserve everything”, but that sounded too personal, too…well, romantic. “You deserve a cake,” she finished, then quickly cast her eyes down as she busied herself with cutting out a perfect, beautiful slice of cake and serving it on a saucer she’d brought with her.

She was so used to feeding people the food she made when they were injured, to innocently popping buñuelos and arepas into people’s mouths, that she unconsciously stabbed a bite of cake onto the fork and held it up to Agustín’s mouth. He took the bite off the fork just as readily; he had been frequently in need of Julieta’s food since he was a small boy, after all. It was only when their eyes met that they both seemed at once to realize how intimate the moment felt. Julieta was sure that he must be able to hear her heart beating; blood seemed to be rushing to every part of her body. They might have stayed frozen in time like that indefinitely, were it not for Agustín swallowing the bite of cake before remembering to chew and choking loudly on it. He coughed and spluttered as she quickly handed him a glass stoppered bottle full of lulo juice she had brought to go along with the cake.

“It’d be ironic if someone choked to death on your cooking, wouldn’t it?” he quipped as soon as he’d caught his breath again. Julieta laughed out loud, a beautiful, pealing sound that Agustín thought was more beautiful than any music he would ever be capable of playing. He grinned, happy that he could elicit such a sound from her, then suddenly said, “What if we skip the piano lesson today? Would you mind? It’d be nice to just sit here and eat cake and talk together.”

“I’d like that,” Julieta agreed, with a confidence that surprised even herself. She served herself a piece of cake and they settled down as comfortably as they could on the floor.

“Oh, and tomorrow, for my birthday, I was wondering…um…I was thinking…would you like to come over in the evening? Pepa and Bruno, too,” he added hastily, “If they want. And Félix….if he and Pepa have made up by then, otherwise it might get a little stormy.” He gestured towards the rain outside. “Oh, and I’ll probably ask Arturo Guzmán, he lives next door. That’d make it an even number, for cards or games or…I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I don’t really know how to have a birthday at this age. When you’re a kid, you have parties. And I guess adults don’t really get excited about birthdays, but I’m not ready to give up celebrating. If that makes sense.”

“That sounds lovely,” she said reassuringly. There was a brief pang of disappointment when he added more people, but she scolded herself inwardly for the feeling; of course he wouldn’t invite JUST her, that would be silly.

“Great!” he exclaimed. Outside, the rain stopped suddenly, and a gorgeous rainbow stretched across the sky. Julieta chuckled.

“Looks like the lovebirds are all patched up,” she commented.

“I like Félix,” Agustín said around a mouthful of cake. “He’s a good guy.”

“Yes. He’s good for Pepa, even if she doesn’t always realize it,” Julieta replied, rolling her eyes slightly at her sister’s stubbornness. “I think the two of them are in it for the long haul.”

Agustín cleared his throat nervously. “And…what about you?”

Julieta blinked, confused. “What about me?”

“Do you have a….er, I mean, are you…um…” He blushed and shook his head. “Nevermind, I don’t know what I’m trying to ask.”

By that point, she had figured out his meaning, but decided against letting on; it seemed as though he was embarrassed enough at his bungled attempt to ask if she was seeing anyone. “More cake?” she asked, smiling, and he nodded gratefully. The conversation shifted to other things, and they spent the hour chatting happily together.

Neither of them even went near the piano that day. But as she walked home after they said their goodbyes, Julieta felt more full of song that she’d ever yet felt during any of their lessons so far.

Chapter Text

Alma had already arrived home by the time Julieta returned from eating cake with Agustín. The Madrigal matriach was standing in the doorway, looking at the timepiece on her chatelaine with a slight frown as her dark-haired daughter came hurrying up the path.

“Hola, Mamá. You’re home early,” Julietta commented, kissing her mother’s cheek in greeting as she entered and hoping she didn’t look as nervous or guilty as she felt inside. Alma smiled at the kiss and turned to follow her daughter towards the kitchen.

“I wanted to check on Pepa. She nearly flattened farmer Moreno’s sugar cane. But dear Félix had her all straightened out by the time I got home,” she said fondly, stopping to rearrange a fresh bouquet of flowers in a vase on a nearby table. “He’s such a nice young man, and so good for our Pepa.”

“Yes, Mamá.”

“You’re home late, aren’t you?” The question seemed to be mostly conversational and less out of suspicion, but Julieta still felt a twinge of panic.

“Agustín smashed his thumb with a hammer,” she replied, setting her basket down on the counter. It was the truth, even if it might not have been the whole truth.

“The Gómez boy?” Alma asked, clucking her tongue in concern when Julieta nodded. “That boy is a walking accident. He’s so lucky we have you, mi vida,” she added, putting a hand to Julieta’s cheek fondly.

“Gracias, Mamá.” She hesitated, then said, “Actually, tomorrow is Agustín’s birthday, and he’s invited me and Pepa and Bruno to celebrate with him in the evening. And Félix. Oh, and Arturo Guzmán,” she added quickly, knowing her mother would be more likely to be happy about her children going if her best friend’s son was also present. Alma smiled; there was something secret and pleased in the look that Julieta couldn't quite place.

“That sounds like a lovely time, dear. Just don’t stay out too late. There is work to be done,” she cautioned. Julieta nodded meekly.

“Dinner will be on the table in ten minutes, I just need to plate everything.”

“Casita?” Alma called. The house rattled its tiles in response. “Tell Pepa and Bruno to come help their sister. Julieta, I’m glad you mentioned Arturo,” she continued. “Mariana and I have been talking, and we both think it would be nice if the two of you could spend some time together. Get to know one another a little more.”

“I already know Arturo, Mamá,” Julieta countered, turning away to serve the stew she’d made ahead earlier and pushing down the peculiar feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach at the tone of her mother’s voice. “I’ve known him my whole life.”

Arturo Guzmán was a very nice young man, and she supposed he was considered handsome by most of the young women in the village, though she had never really thought much about him in that regard. He was five years her senior, and she had always sort of vaguely thought of him as an older cousin type figure.

“Yes, but he’s getting to the age that he’s beginning to look for a wife, and the two of you together would be so good for the encanto. Mariana says he’s already quite taken with you,” Alma said, smiling proudly at her daughter. She patted Julieta on the shoulder before leaving the kitchen, adding, “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you at the party tomorrow evening,” as she exited.

Julieta’s heart was racing for the second time that afternoon, but for a much different reason than before. Wife? Oh no, no no no. She braced her hands against the counter to steady herself, her breath shallow and her mind in a whirlwind.

“Hey sis, you need some – whoa.” Bruno stopped short when Julieta spun around to face him, her eyes wild. “Um…you…okay?” he asked hesitantly. She stared at him for a long moment in silence before rushing forward and grabbing his hand urgently.

“Bruno. I need you to look into the future for me,” she said, quickly and quietly. He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off, “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. Please. Please, I never ask. And I’ll never ask again, I just…I need to know something.”

Bruno hesitated, then nodded quickly. “Okay. After dinner.”

Julieta breathed a sigh of relief and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Don’t tell Mamá. Don’t tell Pepa,” she whispered, and immediately felt a twinge of guilt about it; she didn’t hide much from her siblings, other than her piano lessons, but she couldn’t risk anyone else knowing.

~~~~~~~~

It was late when she crept up to Bruno’s tower; his room had once been between hers and Pepa’s, but in their teens casita had rearranged at Bruno’s request in order to accommodate his desire to have more personal space.

So much space Julieta thought, staring up at the cavernous room. The stairs seemed to get higher and higher every time she came in here. It worried her; sometimes she felt like Bruno was slipping further and further away from them. She took a deep breath and began to climb. Several minutes later, she came to the wide, flat space at the top where Bruno performed his vision ritual - he technically didn’t need the ritual to see the future, but it kept him grounded. It made him feel he had a way to get back easily.

“Thank you for this,” she said quietly. Her brother glanced up.

“What’s so important that you need to see? I mean, I can’t promise specifics, but having something to look for can help.”

“Mamá wants me to marry Arturo Guzmán,” she blurted out, then clamped her hands over her mouth; saying it out loud seemed like bad luck, especially in here. Bruno raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Huh. Really? I didn’t know you two were a thing – “

“We’re not! I don’t even – I just…” She sighed and shook her head. “Mamá wants the families to join forces. She thinks it will be good for the encanto, and I…” Another sigh, softer this time. “I want to make sure I do the right thing. For everyone.”

“You need to do what’s right for you, Juli,” Bruno replied, giving her a look. She cast her eyes downward. “All right, come on. Hold my hands and hang on once we get started.”

He lit small fires: one large one in the center, four small ones around it, then held his hands out to her. A deep breath in. The sand began to lift and swirl around them as Bruno’s eyes glowed bright green.

Julieta saw their dining room table, full of people that were hard to make out. At the head of the table sat their mother, grey-haired now, beautiful and regal as always, and on her right…

“That’s me,” she said wonderingly. “And there’s Pepa, beside me, and…Félix!”

“Who are the others?” Bruno said, shouting over the wind. “There are others I don't know, and children, I don’t recognize them….wait! That’s Señora Guzmán, sitting beside Mamá! And beside her is...wait, is that Arturo?"

“That can’t be Arturo, he’s too young compared to us there! He must be…oh. Oh no.” Julieta suddenly let go of Bruno’s hands. With his concentration broken, the swirling sand collapsed around them, leaving an emerald square with part of the vision imprinted on it. The whole table was not visible, but it was plain to see Félix, Pepa, Julieta, Alma, Señora Guzmán, and a young man who looked very much like Arturo sitting beside a beautiful young woman who greatly resembled their own mother when she was young.

Julieta picked up the tablet and stared at it, searching for something else, something hidden. Bruno looked over her shoulder nervously, trying to help decipher. He didn’t notice his sister was crying until the first teardrop splashed onto the green glass in her hands.

“Maybe it’s not what it looks like?” he offered hesitantly. “I mean, I know what it looks like, but —”

“It looks like those two are the children I have with Arturo,” Julieta said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Sis, it’s impossible to tell without further context. I mean, we can’t even see the rest of the table, eh? And if those are Arturo’s kids, then where is he? He’s not in the picture!”

Julieta handed the vision back to Bruno, took a deep breath, then kissed his cheek. “Thank you, hermano. I know you don’t like doing these if you don’t have to. I won’t ask you again,” she said softly. She gave him a sad smile, then hurried down the steps and disappeared into the hallway as quickly as she could.

Left alone, Bruno stared at the vision left in his hands. He knew that Julieta was focused on other things in the image, but there was something else bothering him. He looked at the faces of his mother, his sisters, all recognizable even though they were at least thirty years older than the present day, and couldn’t help but wonder: where was he?

Chapter Text

It was growing close to dusk the next day when the Madrigal triplets set off for Agustín’s house, meeting Félix along the way. Pepa had rolled her eyes and grumbled at the invitation (“Only children and very old people have birthday parties!”) but Félix had countered that he thought life should always be a celebration, and that Agustín was his friend, and that the Madrigals needed to let themselves have a little fun once in a while. He danced Pepa through the streets ahead of Julieta and Bruno, singing loudly, until she was laughing and breathless and too happy to grumble about anything.

Julieta carried a cloth covered basket of buñuelos; she was hesitant to bring anything to the party for fear that Agustín’s mother had already made snacks and would think her impertinent, but she also knew that by this point people expected her to always come with food, so had settled on something simple that would keep for a few days in case no one ate them that night. She had also sent Agustín home with the rest of the cake they had shared the previous afternoon. It had barely been twenty-four hours, but it seemed like a lifetime ago.

“You okay, sis?” Bruno asked quietly, in step beside her. She looked over at him and smiled, then nodded.

“Yeah. I’m just…thinking, that’s all.” Félix and Pepa had already reached the door of the Gómez home, and were being ushered in with enthusiastic greetings from what sounded like Agustín and Arturo already there.

“Hey, if you wanna leave this party early, I’ll just stub my toe really hard on something and say you have to take me home to fix it, eh?” Bruno offered. She laughed and held up the basket she was carrying.

“I’m bringing food with me, though.”

“We’ll tell them I have to have special food. Since I’m so weird and creepy,” Bruno joked, hunching his back over and raising his arms up in an exaggerated scary stance. Julieta’s smile softened, and she stopped before they got to the door, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder.

“Don’t talk about my brother like that, eh? You’re not weird or creepy. You’re kind and thoughtful and funny. And maybe just a little misunderstood,” she said, winking at him conspiratorially.

“Julieta! Bruno! Welcome!” Agustín had poked his head out the door and was grinning from ear to ear at them. Julieta’s heart ached at the sight of him, but she smiled anyway.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Agustín,” she said, then frowned, noticing he had a small gash in the middle of a bump on his forehead. “What happened?”

“Oh! I left the cabinet door open and bumped my head,” he said sheepishly, reaching up to gingerly touch the injury. “It’s fine, I had already forgotten about it.” Julieta was already reaching into her basket for a buñuelo. She wordlessly popped it into his mouth; the gash and the bump disappeared before he’d even finished swallowing, and he smiled gratefully. “Gracias, Julieta.”

The way he said her name made her feel like a dozen mariposas were fluttering up from her stomach to her throat. Her lips partly slightly, as though to set them free, and she and Agustín stared at one another for a long moment in silent adoration. Then Bruno cleared his throat awkwardly behind them, and the spell was broken.

“Bruno! Thank you for coming, mi amigo,” Agustín said, stepping out of the doorway to let them pass through, and Julieta suddenly felt tears prick at her eyes; she realized that she had never heard Agustín make fun of her brother, not once in all the years they’d been children together, not even when other kids would snicker at Bruno’s blunt way of speaking or his nervous tics or his emotional outbursts. Why had she never paid any mind before to how wonderfully kind he was?

“Hola, Señora Gómez,” Julieta greeted Agustín’s mother a little shyly as they entered. The older woman’s face split into a happy grin at the sight of her.

“Julieta! Mi heroína,” she crooned. Señora Gómez was always full of praise for her, ever since the first time she healed Agustín’s bee stings years ago. “So good to see you! Señor Gómez and I are on our way out for a little while, to give you young people some time to yourselves. I’m so happy to have you here. And so happy you and my Agustín are getting to be better friends, eh?” she added in a lower voice for only Julieta to hear, throwing in a wink at the end. Julieta’s cheeks felt hot; it hadn’t occurred to her that Agustín might have told his mother about their weekly piano lessons.

By the time Agustín’s parents had excused themselves, Arturo had made his way to Julieta’s side. “Hola, Señorita Julieta,” he greeted warmly, smiling as he reached to take her hand and plant a gentlemanly kiss on the back of it. Julieta gulped, her eyes darting to see if Agustín had noticed; he was busy talking to Félix, but Pepa noticed, and waggled her eyebrows, grinning at her sister. Bruno noticed, too, and rushed over.

“Arturo! Hey! Uh…that’s…um…how about that tejo tournament last week? Pretty exciting, huh?” he said, taking Arturo by the elbow and guiding him away from his sister.

Not five minutes later, Pepa had commandeered Arturo’s attention away from Bruno, and guided the handsome young man right back to her sister. Julieta groaned inwardly; of course, Pepa thought she was being helpful. She had been trying to encourage her sister to pay attention to boys for years, and probably saw this as a perfect opportunity for Julieta, just as their mother did.

The evening wore on in the same pattern; Bruno would try to find some excuse to draw Arturo away from Julieta, only to have Pepa steer him right back moments later. Pepa was more skilled at this than Bruno was, which meant Julieta spent most of the night by Arturo’s side. She knew she ought to do her best to make herself fond of the man; between Bruno’s vision and the fact that their mothers were both pushing for a marriage, it would be easiest if she just accepted her fate. But she kept finding herself stealing glances at Agustín; he seemed to be having a good time, and if he had noticed that she was being paid so much attention by another man, he didn’t let on. The thought occurred to Julieta that she may have misinterpreted Agustín’s feelings for her; after all, they’d never spoken anything aloud. Maybe he only thought of her as a friend.

It wasn’t long before they had gone through two bottles of wine between the six of them, though Julieta had noticed it had been mostly Agustín, Félix, and Arturo doing the drinking; Bruno didn’t like alcohol, since it sometimes caused spontaneous visions, so he never had more than a glass at social functions, and Pepa already knew that more than two glasses would cause the next day’s weather to be absolutely unmanageable. Truth be told, Julieta wasn’t sure how much she’d had; either Arturo or Agustín would offer to refill her glass anytime it got less than half full, so she had lost track. She certainly didn’t feel drunk, but she had started to realize that she was having an even harder time paying attention to anything Arturo said than before, and that she was spending most of her time watching Agustín.

Why did it take me so long to notice his smile? How did I go so many years without realizing how unfailingly kind he is? she thought, smiling wistfully as Agustín laughed at something her brother said.

“Everything okay, Julieta?” Arturo asked, his brow furrowed lightly in concern. She shook herself out of her reverie and nodded.

“Yes, everything’s fine. But I think I ought to be getting home. I have work to do tomorrow,” she said, rising to her feet. He followed suit.

“I’ll be happy to walk you home, if you like,” he offered, but she quickly shook her head.

“No, that’s…that’s all right. Bruno and Pepa ought to be going, too, so we’ll all walk together. You live next door, it would be silly to ask you to accompany us,” she replied. He nodded, respectful of her answer, and kissed her hand once more. Julieta glanced at Agustín as Arturo’s lips touched her skin, unable to keep herself from thinking how Agustín’s hands caused so much electricity where Arturo’s lips caused none at all. Her heart sank when she realized that this time, Agustín had witnessed the gesture; she saw his smile falter, and his eyes shifted from her hand up to her face. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment until Agustín looked away.

“Bruno, Pepa, it’s getting late,” Julieta called. “Mamá will be upset if we aren’t home soon.”

A round of goodbyes was said; Félix offered to walk home with the three of them, but Pepa declined, saying if he came home with them that’d be the whole party gone, and that he and Arturo ought to stay a little longer to help Agustín finish the wine. Julieta could tell Pepa really was just eager to gossip with her about all the attention she had received Arturo. Everyone said their goodbyes, with much hugging and laughing. Julieta found herself face to face with Agustín by the door.

“I hope it was a good party,” she said, trying to smile brightly. He smiled in return, though she noticed it didn’t reach all the way to his eyes.

“It was. I’m glad you were here,” he said softly. She swallowed down the lump trying to form in her throat. Impulsively, she leaned up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. He seemed to brighten at the gesture, and she almost regretted doing it; it wasn’t fair to give him false hope, not when she knew they weren’t meant to be. But she couldn’t bear to see him look sad on his birthday.

"I'm glad I was, too."

“I’ll see you Tuesday?” he said hopefully, and she smiled and nodded once before slipping out the door.

Julieta tried to hurry through the streets ahead of her siblings, but Pepa’s legs were longer, and she caught up quickly. “So you and Arturo Guzman, eh mi hermana?” Pepa said teasingly, looping her arm through Julieta’s. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell, Pepa,” Julieta countered. “I don’t think we’ve spent more than five minutes together before tonight, except when our families visit.”

“Well, I’m relieved. When you said we were invited to Agustín’s birthday, I thought you were interested in him,” Pepa said, laughing as though the idea were ridiculous.

“What’s wrong with Agustín?” Julieta demanded.

“You’re joking, si? He’s the most accident prone boy in the whole town! And those ears - they stick out like an elephant. Think of the kids you’d have together!” Pepa giggled, elbowing Julieta in the ribs. "At least they'd be able to hear for miles!"

Bruno had caught up to them, and piped up from Pepa’s other side, “I like Agustín. He’s nice. He doesn’t laugh at me.”

At that, Pepa softened, and looped her free arm through Bruno’s, linking all three of them together as they walked. “Anyone laughs at you, you tell them your older sister will strike them down with lightning, you hear me?” Bruno laughed.

“Mamá says you’re only older by half an hour, Pepa.”

“Yes, but you’re still our precious baby brother,” Pepa said, exaggerating the words and letting go of Julieta so that she could grab Bruno’s face in her hands and plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He wriggled out from her grasp, and she lunged to grab him, pinning his arms to his sides from behind and peppering the top of his head with kisses.

Julieta laughed, and felt her heart lighten a little; at least she had the love of her family to see her through, no matter what happened. They could face anything as long as they were together.

Chapter Text

It had been almost three weeks since the night of Agustín’s party. Julieta hadn’t been to any piano lessons.

The first Tuesday, she’d sent a last-minute note by way of a passing child in the village, a hastily scrawled, “can’t come today, too much work” on a scrap of paper. She had been planning to go. She had spent the whole week convincing herself that they could still be friends, even if she was destined to marry someone else. But when the time came, the mere thought of his gentle hands guiding hers on the keys was enough to bring tears to her eyes, and she had sent the note instead. She burned the arepas that evening.

The second Tuesday, she’d sent word earlier in the morning, a slightly longer note saying that she couldn’t come because her mother was having guests that night and needed her to help prepare the meal. It was true; her mother had invited the Guzmáns over for dinner. Julieta barely touched anything on her plate, spending the whole meal terrified that Arturo was going to propose. He hadn’t, thankfully. After they had gone, her mother lightly scolded her for scorching the empanadas.

Now, it was Tuesday afternoon again. Julieta knew she had to face Agustín. She couldn’t just keep avoiding him forever. Although she also had a feeling he was avoiding her, too. He hadn’t come to her to heal any injuries since she’d skipped out on the first lesson two weeks ago. She tried to tell herself that he had probably just been accident-free for those two weeks, even though she knew in her heart it wasn’t possible for him to go more than two days without injuring himself. She hoped he was all right.

She had dawdled, and was ten minutes later than their usual time when she stopped outside the church, steeling herself to see him. But as she put her hand on the door to open it, she realized something was missing. There was no music coming from inside. With a sinking feeling, she pushed her way in.

The piano sat empty. Agustín wasn’t there.

Tears flooded her eyes as she closed the door again. She hurried through the streets towards home blindly, ignoring the greetings of passersby and surreptitiously dashing the tears away before they could fall.

Casita squeaked a shutter sympathetically at her and opened the front door. Julieta headed straight for the kitchen out of habit. For a moment, she thought she would collapse into a sobbing heap in the middle of the floor, but she was afraid that if she let herself, she would never get up again. So she headed for the pantry and began pulling out ingredients haphazardly, almost frantically. An onion rolled away from her on the floor, and she grabbed it, then abandoned the rest of the ingredients in favor of peeling and chopping the onion. She could blame her crying on that, and only the house would know the truth.

Tears poured down her face as she mentally berated herself, angrily chopping away. Foolish girl, what did you expect? You stood him up for two weeks straight. He wasn’t going to wait for you forever. Even upset, she was skilled with the knife, fingers curved expertly around the onion in a way that she had never managed to curve them above the piano keys. She was so agitated that she didn’t hear the soft knock on the frame of the open side door that led to the patio just outside the kitchen.

“Julieta?” a familiar voice said, and she yelped; the knife slipped and sliced the skin off the top knuckle of her index finger. She stuck the injured finger in her mouth instinctively and whirled around to face Agustín.

He was a mess. Parts of his body were slightly swollen, as if they were still recovering from bee stings that happened several days earlier. A bandage was wrapped around his head at an angle, doing a poor job of covering up a scrape on his forehead. The eye underneath the scrape was bruised, and one arm was in a makeshift sling. In spite of all his injuries, he limped over to her almost at a run, his handkerchief already out of his pocket, and took her hand to apply pressure to the injured finger.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you!” he stammered. If she hadn’t already been crying, she would have started to at the look of concern for her well being that was on his face.

“I don’t want to play the piano,” she blurted out, half sobbing. “I never wanted to play the piano! I just wanted a reason to be with you.”

For a long moment, time seemed frozen as the two stared at one another in surprised silence. Then all at once, her face was in his hands, and he was kissing her. She remained frozen for a split second longer, then suddenly the fingers of her uninjured hand were behind his head, entwined in his hair as she eagerly returned the kiss. It filled her with warmth and felt both desperate and blissful, hungry and satisfying. In that moment Julieta was somehow sure down to her bones that no two people could ever have possibly been as right for one another as they were.

When they broke apart, she saw Agustín wince, and she suddenly realized that he’d been holding her face with a fractured wrist.

“I have magic food!” she exclaimed in a too-loud voice before slapping her hand over her mouth, shocked at how stupid the words sounded coming out, and he blinked at her. Then he made a noise in the back of his throat, like he was trying to hold back a laugh. She snickered behind her hand, which made him chuckle, and within moments they were both howling with laughter, laughing until tears streamed down both their faces and they had to lean on one another to keep from falling to the floor.

Julieta managed to pull herself together enough to fish a leftover empanada out of her basket. She took one bite, then handed the rest to Agustín, who took it gratefully.

“I ran out of the rest of the buñuelos you left at my house over a week ago,” he admitted. “But then today this happened,” he added around a mouthful of food, pointing to his black eye and scraped forehead, both of which healed as he chewed, “and I knew my parents would be awfully suspicious that I hadn’t come to you. It was easier to hide the wrist and the ankle.”

“What about the bee stings?” she asked, putting the chopped onions into a pan and throwing the skins into a bowl to be dealt with later before washing her hands. He shrugged.

“Told my mamá that you were busy, and that they’d heal up on their own.” He hesitated, and she felt the mood somber; they both seemed to realize that they hadn’t addressed the skipped piano lessons, or the fact that they’d been avoiding one another. “Julieta…”

“Mamá wants me to marry Arturo Guzmán,” she interjected quietly, her eyes downcast as she leaned against the counter.

“I know,” he admitted quietly as he moved to lean next to her. “Arturo mentioned it, that night after you left. That’s….partly why I’ve been keeping my distance.” They stood there quietly together for a moment, and even under the circumstances, Julieta couldn’t help thinking how right it felt to be standing next to him. Agustín broke the silence hesitantly. “And…what do you want, Julieta?”

Julieta sighed, and opened her mouth to reply, but stopped short when she noticed Casita rattling the floor tiles anxiously in warning. She gasped, and began shoving Agustín towards the side door he had come in through. “You have to go.”

“What? Julieta, I don’t understand–”

“Mamá’s home.”

His eyes widened to the size of saucers, and he hurried out the door. “When can I see you again?” he whispered, sticking his head back through. Julieta’s mind raced, trying to pick a time she knew she wouldn’t be missed, but she couldn’t think clearly.

“Tomorrow. I’ll come find you when I can get away,” she finally hissed. She shut the door, wincing when she heard a muffled ow from the other side and realized Agustín’s fingers must have gotten smashed in the process. The tiles on the counter tossed another empanada into her hand and she hastily reopened the door to shove it outside just as her mother entered the kitchen from the other side.

“Everything all right, mija?”

“Mmhmm! Just…throwing out some scraps,” Julieta said. Behind Alma’s back, Julieta saw Casita flip the onion skins from earlier out the open window. She heard an exclamation of surprise as the flying food scraps landed on the escaping Agustín, and she quickly faked a cough to draw attention away from the sound. Alma smiled fondly at her daughter.

“You work so hard, Julieta. You make us all proud,” she said, patting Julieta on the cheek before turning to leave the kitchen. Julieta hesitated, then stepped forward and called out after her mother’s retreating figure.

“Mamá? Um…how did you…how did you know when you were in love with Papá?”

Alma’s frame stiffened, and for a moment, Julieta regretted asking; her mother had told them so much about their father over the years, but it was always on her own time. But Alma turned around with a wistful smile and moved to look out the nearest window, as if it could help her see into the past.

“I had known Pedro since we were children,” she began, speaking slowly, as though she were choosing every word carefully. “But I never paid him much attention. He was a little older than I - much like you and Arturo,“ she added, and Julieta swallowed hard, glad her mother wasn’t looking at her face. “And then one day….one day we looked at one another, and smiled, and something just seemed….different. We started spending more time together. He always made me feel so…so warm. Like having sunshine wrapped around me. Like I would always be safe.” The last sentence was nearly a whisper, as though Alma were saying it more to herself.

Julieta felt tears prick at her eyes. She stepped forward and wrapped one arm around her mamá, resting her cheek on the older woman’s shoulder. “I love you, Mami,” she whispered. Alma looped an arm around her daughter’s waist and squeezed lightly.

“I love you, mijita. And your Papá loved you, too. So very, very much.”

Eventually, Alma would sniffle one last time before excusing herself. Julieta would busy herself making an onion sauce out of what she had chopped earlier, thinking about how Agustín made her feel warm and safe, just like what her mother had described. The evening would continue on as if nothing had happened, no emotions expressed.

But for now, just for a little while, mother and daughter stood leaning against one another, each one aching inside for a love that they couldn’t hold.

Chapter Text

Either the line of people in need of her help was longer than usual, or it just felt like it was taking an eternity. Julieta practically shoved food into the mouths of the last ten people. As soon as she was finished, she took off at a run down the street for the Gómez house. She turned the last corner and collided face first into a muscular chest. The impact sent her reeling backwards, landing straight on her backside. She looked up to see Arturo Guzmán reaching to help her to her feet again. Only then did it occur to her that trying to meet Agustin at his house, with the Guzmáns living literally next door, was probably not the best idea she’d ever had.

“Lo siento, Julieta!” he exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just wasn’t looking where I was going,” she replied, dusting herself off.

“Would you like to come inside? Rest for a moment?” he asked, concerned, which made her feel more terrible than she already did about the entire situation; Arturo was really a very sweet man. He deserves someone who loves him she thought to herself, but a voice from behind Arturo interrupted her.

“Actually, I sent for Julieta. I…uh, twisted my ankle,” Agustín lied. He shifted his weight to one side and held one foot up off the ground as an afterthought.

Arturo hesitated, seeming torn. “Well, I was on my way out, so…um…if you’re sure you’re all right?” he asked again. Julieta nodded, and he looked relieved. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night, Julieta.” He smiled, bending to kiss her hand (which was the most affection he had attempted to bestow on her so far) and she locked eyes with Agustín.

“Tomorrow night?” she echoed faintly. Arturo straightened up and smiled again.

“Si, your mother invited us over for dinner again.”

“Oh.” She realized after a moment that he seemed to be waiting for something else, so she forced a faint smile. “Looking forward to it, then.”

He grinned in return, then disappeared around the corner. Agustín readjusted to stand on both feet, and they both let out a sigh. He cleared his throat nervously. “Crowded in town.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Would you like to take a walk by the river?”

She nodded, and they headed off in that direction as quickly as they could without drawing attention, side by side but not daring to walk arm in arm. They made the journey mostly in silence, heading towards a part of the river where the rocky bank was high enough to climb down and not be immediately seen by anyone passing by. Agustín descended first, offering his hand up to Julieta to help her once he’d found his footing. The edge of the river was shallow and still here, not like the quickly rushing water in the middle. He led her over to a relatively flat rock jutting out from the bank, just wide enough for two people to sit side by side comfortably, and kept hold of her hand after they sat down.

Neither of them spoke for a while, just looked out at the tumbling river quietly. Agustín absently ran his thumb across the back of her hand in small circles, and she closed her eyes with a soft sigh. If they could just stay in this moment, she was sure she’d never want anything else again.

“I asked you yesterday what it is that you want,” Agustín interrupted her thoughts as though he could read them, his voice more quiet and serious than she had ever heard it before. “Do you…have an answer?”

“I want…” She trailed off and sighed heavily. “I want to do the right thing for my family,” she admitted. “Mamá insists that we have to make sure we earn the miracle that was given us. I don’t want to do something that might hurt the miracle. I want to take care of everyone.”

He nodded thoughtfully, still looking out at the water, and seemed to think about his answer a long time before replying. “I know that I can’t understand, not really. I have no Gift. I’m clumsy, and I’ve never been good at anything except music. I don’t have an entire town depending on me. I don’t even have much of anything to offer, not to anyone, but especially not to someone like you. But Julieta…” He lifted up the hand holding hers and covered it with his free one, holding her hand in both of his as gently as if it were a little bird. “I would gladly spend the rest of my days taking care of you, however I can. Whatever you choose. Even if you…even if you choose to marry Arturo. I support your choice.”

Julieta’s face crumpled, and she turned in towards him, burying her face against his shoulder. He released her hand so that he could wrap his arms around her. “I don’t want to marry him. Oh, Agustín, I don’t know how to get out of this. It seems so important to Mamá, and Arturo is so nice, and I don’t want to hurt anyone at all! I just want to do the right thing. I want to do what’s right for my family, for the encanto..”

“You need to do what’s right for you, Julieta,” Agustín interrupted gently. She thought about her brother telling her the exact same thing weeks earlier; the two most important living men in her life giving her the same advice perhaps warranted paying attention to. “Nobody else can decide that for you.”

They grew silent again, looking out at the water, her head against his shoulder and his arm around her waist. “This feels right,” she finally murmured.

“Yes. It does,” he agreed, voice barely above a whisper, then cleared his throat and shifted his weight so that he was turned in towards her slightly. She lifted her head to look up at him. He took a deep, steadying breath before speaking.

“I know that…um, well, we did something yesterday when emotions were a bit…we were a little frantic, and I don’t know if you...uh…” Unable to finish a complete thought, he finally blurted out, “Julieta, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. He smiled, looking relieved. Carefully, he cupped her face in his hands and tilted her chin up. Where yesterday’s kiss had been a rapid wildfire, this one was slow, burning embers, starting out gentle and gradually deepening in intensity until Julieta found she could barely breathe. She realized she didn’t care; she would gladly suffocate right then and there on that rock if it meant he would keep kissing her for the rest of her life.

Without any thought to decorum or propriety, she instinctively leaned back, pulling him with her. She’d never felt anything like this; all she knew is she desperately wanted more. But she had forgotten how narrow the rock was, and the shift of position caused them to topple off of it and roll into the shallow water pooled below.

Julieta shrieked briefly as they fell; thankfully it wasn’t even deep enough to completely submerge either of them, though it was certainly enough to put a damper on their passion.

“Are you all right?” Agustín asked quickly, sitting up. She noticed his glasses had fallen off his face, and hurried to grab them from the water.

“I’m fine, are you?” she asked in return. He nodded, and they laughed together, flushed and somewhat breathless, as they got to their feet. Agustín’s entire back was wet, and the front of Julieta’s skirt was soaked from the knees down. He reached to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, and she nuzzled her cheek against his hand softly.

“I don’t want to go back,” he admitted quietly.

Neither do I she thought, but was afraid to say it out loud. “We have to,” she said gently. Realizing she was still holding his glasses, she handed them back to him. He fished a mostly dry handkerchief out of his front pocket and cleaned them off as best he could.

They helped each other back up the river bank, and slowly began the trek back towards town. They walked arm in arm as far as they dared, and skirted along the outside edge of the main village, taking the long way towards Casita. When they were barely in sight of the house, Agustín pulled her behind the widest palma de cera, angling their bodies so that her back was to the tree and anyone looking from the house wouldn’t see them.

“Once more?” he asked, almost pleading, his face inches from hers. She pulled him towards her in reply, kissing him greedily. Neither of them heard the rustle of approaching footsteps, but they both felt the sudden blast of hot wind that smacked into them from one side. They broke apart, gasping.

Pepa and Félix were a few meters away, both staring at them, mouths agape.

“Pepa!” Julieta cried out in surprise.

“Miércoles.”

Chapter Text

They had frantically sworn Pepa and Félix to secrecy without explaining very much; the afternoon was wearing thin, which meant Julieta and Pepa would both be expected home. Félix and Agustín walked back to town together, and Julieta felt sure Agustín would fill her sister’s boyfriend in along the way. She just hoped the rest of the town didn’t find out before she was ready; her sister had a hard time keeping things to herself.

Now, the Madrigal sisters were together in the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Pepa asked for the third time in less than twenty minutes. Julieta had put her to work stirring a pot of beans that had been simmering on the stove all day. Having a task kept Pepa focused enough to keep the weather under control, although excited little eddies of wind kept carrying things off the counters and had to be put back in place by Casita over and over. The wind was at least helpful in drying Julieta’s damp skirt.

“Pepa, you keep asking me that, and I don’t have a good answer for you!” Julieta exclaimed, tossing the chorizo cooking in a pan with an expert flick of the wrist.

“Tell me everything, right from the beginning.”

So Julieta told her everything while she cooked, from the very first piano lesson months ago, to asking Bruno for a vision, to the afternoon she had just spent by the river with Agustín. “But I still don’t know what to do,” she finished, wiping her hands off with a towel.

“What do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” Pepa exclaimed in disbelief. “You cannot possibly be still considering going through with Mamá’s idea of you marrying Arturo Guzmán if you’re in love with Agustín!”

“I never said I was in love with him,” Julieta replied quickly, though she could feel her face getting hot. “Besides, what if it’s not love? What if I don’t even know what love is? What if I throw away a perfectly nice, respectable man just because Agustín Gómez makes me feel like…like…” she trailed off with a sigh, unable to put words to just how he made her feel. Pepa moved to wrap her arm around her sister’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “What is love supposed to feel like?” Julieta asked helplessly.

She wasn’t used to feeling like this; even though she was only the oldest by a few minutes, she had always filled the role of “big sister”, taking care of her family, looking out for them. But she had no experience with romance.

“Like weather,” Pepa answered, and Julieta looked at her curiously. “It’s like sunshine, sometimes.” She spread her arms out wide and twirled around in a circle. “And sometimes it’s like being out in the middle of a beautiful thunderstorm in the summer heat. Sometimes it’s powerful, and a little scary, like a hurricane, but you still know that the sun will come back out and you’ll be safe.”

“Is that how you feel about Félix?” Julieta asked, and Pepa smiled bashfully, fidgeting with her braid as she nodded. “But…what about the other boys? The ones before him?” she ventured tentatively, afraid she might cause a storm by bringing up Pepa’s past flings.

“None of them were like Félix,” Pepa answered firmly. Julieta wasn’t sure she had ever heard her sister sound so sure of something, and she couldn’t help smiling.

“I’m glad he makes you so happy, hermanita,” she said.

“And I want you to be just as happy, Julieta.” Pepa sighed. “I know you want to take care of everyone, and make Mamá proud. But you cannot marry someone just because it’s what someone else wants! You have to do what’s right for you. And Mamá will get over it.”

“What will Mamá get over?”

They both jumped to see their mother paused just outside the kitchen doorway, looking at them with suspicion.

“I scorched the arepas again,” Julieta blurted out, and Pepa nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “We were talking, and I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry, Mamá.”

Alma frowned and shook her head in disapproval. “You’ve been careless lately, Julieta,” she chided gently, and Julieta ducked her head in embarrassment; out of the triplets, she was the one least often scolded by their mother, so she felt extra sensitive about being reprimanded. “We’ve having the Guzmáns over for dinner again tomorrow night. Let’s try not to serve them anything overcooked this time, niña.”

“Yes, Mamá,” Julieta replied obediently. Alma nodded, satisfied.

“Pepa, come with me, please. I’d like to talk to you about the weather for the festival next week,” she said.

“Yes, Mamá,” Pepa answered, following their mother. She turned and mouthed the words “You have to tell her” behind Alma’s back, and Julieta sighed. She would tell her mother tomorrow, after Arturo and his mother left. She couldn’t very well be rude and uninvite them for dinner.

But right now, she had some arepas to scorch.

Chapter Text

Julieta had watched Agustín dawdling in the back of the line for half an hour while she doled out food to people. He was constantly encouraging each new person to get in front of him, obviously wanting to be the very last person through so he would have a longer chance to talk to her. She couldn’t help stealing glances at him and smiling; sometimes he would catch her eye and grin, and she would give a tiny wave in response. Finally, everyone else was gone, and they stood looking at one another awkwardly.

“Hi,” Julieta said with a shy smile. He pushed his glasses further up on his nose and smiled back.

“Hi,” he answered.

"Do you need one of these?" she asked, holding up a buñuelo. He brightened, looking proud of himself.

"Nope! I haven't gotten hurt at all today!" he said. Neither one seemed to know what to say next; this was the first time they’d seen each other since they’d been caught by Pepa and Félix the afternoon before. But somehow, just standing near one another was comforting. Finally, Agustín cleared his throat and said, “Can I carry your basket back up to the house for you?”

Julieta grinned and nodded. “I’d like that,” she said. He took the basket off her arm and they began to walk, as slowly as they possibly could, up towards the Madrigal house.

“So….Arturo still coming for dinner tonight?” Agustín asked after a moment. There was something hopeful in his voice, like maybe he thought she had found a way out of it. She sighed and nodded.

“Yes. I’ve got to go home and start getting ready.” She paused, seeing him deflate a little out of the corner of her eye, and added, “I’m going to talk to Mamá afterwards.”

“What…um…what are you going to…tell her, exactly?” he asked hesitantly. Julieta took a deep breath and spoke with more confidence than she felt.

“I’m going to tell her that I don’t want to marry Arturo. That I appreciate her trying to find a good match for me, but that I’m – “ She cut herself off short, realizing she had been about to say I’m in love with someone else, and cleared her throat. “That I’m just not interested in him.”

Agustín nodded thoughtfully, quiet for a moment as they walked. “How do you think she’ll take it?” he ventured.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” Julieta answered quickly. It was true; she had spent most of the previous night lying awake, trying to figure out exactly what she was going to say, but she hadn’t been able to picture her mother’s reaction to anything she settled on. “Hopefully dinner will go smoothly, and she’ll be in a good mood.”

“I have a feeling I’m gonna be up all night wondering how it goes,” Agustín admitted. They were at the bottom of the path leading up to her house, and their steps slowed to a standstill.

“Meet me afterwards,” Julieta said impulsively. “You’ll know when the Guzmáns get home, right? I’ll talk to Mamá as soon as they leave. Wait for me by the tree where we…the one from yesterday,” she settled on, and they both blushed. “I’ll come find you as soon as I can, and tell you everything.”

Agustín’s eyes were wide at her bold suggestion, but he nodded in agreement. They both jumped slightly when they heard Alma’s voice calling from the house.

“Julieta!”

Hastily, Julieta took her basket back from his arm. “I’ll see you tonight,” she whispered, then hurried up the path. Her mother was standing in the doorway, eyeing Agustín suspiciously. He gave an awkward wave, turned to leave, and tripped over his own feet. Julieta paused, wondering if he was hurt, but he quickly scrambled up again and gave a thumbs up before walking away.

“That boy is an absolute mess,” Alma declared, clucking her tongue once, either in disapproval or sympathy. Julieta didn’t dare say anything to defend him; she wanted her mother in the best mood possible before tonight. “I’ve already started dinner, mija. I want you to have time to get ready,” she said, placing her hands on her daughter’s cheeks and smiling proudly. “Such a beautiful flower you are, Julieta. Let yourself bloom a little tonight, si?”

Julieta smiled at her mother, her heart swelling happily at the compliment, even as a part of her brain screamed at her to just tell her about Agustín now and call off the dinner instead of going through with the charade. “Gracias, Mami.”

Alma took her basket from her and shooed her away to her room to change.

Closing the door to her room behind her, Julieta let out a sigh; she had to admit, it felt nice to not only be given permission to do something other than cook, but be encouraged.

She stripped down to her underclothes, then sat down at the small vanity and studied her reflection. Julieta had often been mistaken as older than she was (which seemed silly, since the entire town knew she was one of the Madrigal triplets; why did people so often forget and treat her as though she were years older than her siblings?). Unlike most young, unmarried women her age, she already wore her hair in a bun most of the time after an unfortunate incident involving a hair being cooked into an arepa. The older woman who had received the food very kindly said nothing, but a then-sixteen year old Julieta had seen her gag and pull the hair out of her mouth as she walked away, and had been utterly mortified. So she wore it wound up in a bun whenever she was cooking, which was often.

Carefully, she unpinned the updo and unwound it, shaking her hair out lightly. It fell to her waist in a dark, thick cascade of waves, not quite as curly as Pepa’s red locks, but close. She looked at the sparse number of objects on her vanity and drummed her fingers against the top, thinking. A polished, wide toothed wooden comb, a boar bristle brush, a hair comb topped with a golden butterfly that her mother had given her for her quinceañera, and small, lightly perfumed bottle of hair oil that had been given to her by a grateful villager. She carefully poured a little of the oil into her hands and rubbed them together, then began to methodically smooth it through her hair.

It was cathartic, taking some quiet moments to herself like this. She closed her eyes as she worked her fingers through her hair, and found her mind drifting to thoughts of Agustín. She couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have him comb her hair for her; no one except her mother or siblings had ever done so, but the thought of Agustín standing behind her the way he’d done when he was trying to teach her to play the piano, his fingers caressing through her hair, sent a shiver through her.

He’d probably end up tangling it so badly, it would have to be cut off, she thought to herself with a fond chuckle. She pulled the front of her hair away from her face on either side and twisted it, leaving the rest down, then secured the twist with the butterfly comb.

“Julieta, Mamá says the Guzmáns will be here in ten minutes,” she heard as Pepa opened her door without knocking, then gasped in surprise. “¡Guau! You look beautiful, hermanita.”

“Thank you, Pepa. Help me with my dress?” she asked, standing up and moving to her wardrobe. She pulled out a pale, mint green dress with ruffles along the skirt and collar.

“Why are you getting all dressed up for Arturo? I thought you were going to talk to Mamá tonight,” Pepa asked, holding the dress over her sister's head so she could slip into it.

“I’m sneaking out to meet Agustín after,” Julieta interjected, flushed with excitement. She wasn’t used to being the one to sneak out (that was usually Pepa’s territory), and the idea of doing so had her nervously giddy. “Plus Mamá told me to ‘let myself bloom’, whatever that means, so I thought I’d try to look nice. Put her in a good mood before I talk to her.”

“Pssht, what does she mean, you need to bloom?” Pepa scoffed, tying a sash around Julieta’s waist. “You’re already the most beautiful girl in town.”

“Second most beautiful, maybe,” Julieta retorted teasingly, kissing her sister’s cheek. Pepa laughed and swatted at her shoulder playfully, but she looked pleased by the compliment. “You’ve always been the one with all the boys chasing after you, eh?”

“More like I was chasing after them,” she admitted with a giggle, then squeezed Julieta’s hand and asked with more seriousness, “You want me to stay with you when you talk to Mamá?”

Julieta shook her head. “No, I’d rather do it myself. But thank you,” she added, returning the squeeze. Casita rattled the floor tiles at them, and they looked at one another. Pepa smiled encouragingly, and Julieta took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

Time for dinner.

Chapter Text

“Oh my, Julieta, how beautiful you look!” Señora Guzmán gushed as she entered the dining area. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Arturo?” she added, elbowing her son in the side before moving away to stand next to Alma.

“Si, Mamá,” Arturo replied, looking a little embarrassed. He caught Julieta’s eye, and she gave him a sympathetic smile and rolled her eyes a little, as if to say I get it, my mamá is just as bad. He gave her a little grin in return, and she lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling guilty, as though she’d unintentionally flirted with him.

“Oh, aren’t they adorable, Alma?” Señora Guzmán cooed, misinterpreting Julieta’s guilty look as bashfulness. Julieta glanced up to see her mother smiling proudly in response.

Dinner was delayed a few minutes more, which seemed tortuous to Julieta; all she wanted to do was get the meal over with before she lost her courage to talk to her mother. But Bruno had so far been unreachable (”He’s up in his vision cave, Mamá, you know it’ll take him forever to get down,” Pepa had said with an eyeroll after she’d been sent to fetch him). A visibly annoyed Alma had finally announced that they would start without Bruno, since there was no sense in letting the food get cold. She took her place at the head of the table, with Señora Guzmán on her left and Julieta on her right. Arturo sat beside Julieta, with Pepa taking the place beside Señora Guzmán.

“Julieta, Arturo told me he ran into you in town yesterday,” Señora Guzmán commented, and Julieta froze. “Did the two of you have a nice chat?”

“Um, si?” she replied hesitantly, and glanced sideways at Arturo. She was surprised to see him looking at her imploringly, his brown eyes wider than she’d ever seen them, so she hastily added, “It was…yes, a very nice chat.” As soon as both older women’s attention was back on another topic of conversation, Julieta caught Pepa’s eye across the table. Her sister shrugged in bewilderment. She looked back at Arturo, and noticed for the first time that his leg was jiggling underneath the table.

“Are you girls looking forward to the festival next week?” Señora Guzmán asked, smiling at both Pepa and Julieta in turn. They both looked at her blankly for a moment; festivals usually meant more work than play for them. “I believe Arturo is looking forward to getting the chance to dance with you, Julieta,” she added, her tone gently teasing. Arturo cleared his throat nervously.

“Uh, si,” he muttered, and she noticed him put his hand on his knee to keep it from bouncing, only to begin drumming his fingers nervously instead.

It suddenly dawned on her for the first time that Arturo had made absolutely no effort to see her outside of the dinners their mothers had arranged. The only two times she had even seen him outside of her own home was at Agustín’s birthday party weeks earlier, and their chance meeting outside his house the day before. A glimmer of hope shone in her chest; was it possible that Arturo was as unhappy about the arrangement their mothers were trying to make as she was?

Before Julieta could follow her train of thought any further, Bruno burst suddenly into the room looking excited and proud as he held up a newly minted vision above his head with both hands as though it were a trophy. “Arturo doesn’t marry Julieta!” he cried, waving the vision triumphantly. The entire table stared at him with various degrees of shock and horror. “Look!”

He shoved the vision in between Julieta and Arturo, who both craned their necks to look at it. It showed Arturo smiling proudly with his arms around a woman who was decidedly not Julieta. In her arms was a newborn baby. It was one of the happiest looking visions Julieta had ever seen from Bruno, which explained why he was so incredibly excited and pleased with himself.

“Bruno Madrigal, what are you doing?!” Alma demanded. Bruno continued to beam in spite of his mother’s furious tone.

“I’m fixing things! Julieta asked me to look into the future, but she wasn’t happy with that vision, but I think we just misinterpreted what we saw, because right here–”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Nervous thunder rumbled low, as if echoing Alma’s anger, and Pepa glanced up at the cloud over her own head, whispering clear skies, clear skies to herself while stroking her braid in an attempt to stay calm.

“What is all this about?” Mariana Guzmán interjected, moving around the table to try to see the vision, which was now in Arturo’s hands. He was staring at it, his expression unreadable. When his mother got close, he looked up, then suddenly threw the vision to the ground. He looked just as shocked at himself as everyone else when it shattered.

“Um. I have to….we have to go, Mamá,” he stuttered, taking his mother by the hand and pulling her out the door in spite of her spluttering protests.

Alma stood up from the table to follow them, pausing to glare at her triplets. “You three, go to your rooms until I return,” she ordered as she left.

“Bruno, why couldn’t you have waited?” Julieta cried out as soon as the doors shut, tears of frustration pricking at her eyes. Bruno frowned in hurt confusion, and she inwardly regretted her outburst.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I thought everyone would be happy. It was such a happy looking vision, and you didn’t wanna marry Arturo anyway.”

“But I wanted Mamá to be in a good mood! I was going to tell her after dinner that I’m not interested in Arturo!” she countered.

“What was in the vision?” Pepa asked; she hadn’t gotten to see it.

“Arturo had his arms around Bianca Rivera. She was holding a baby,” Julieta explained. Bruno’s brow furrowed in thought.

“Who’s Bianca Rivera, again?” he asked. Both sisters rolled their eyes simultaneously; Bruno was so often in his own world, he often forgot people’s names.

“You know the Riveras, they live on the south edge of town. The house with all the flowers? Bianca is the oldest daughter,” Julieta explained.

“Oh, the blind girl,” Bruno said, nodding, causing Julieta to sigh and shake her head and Pepa to mutter something about being tactless at him. “What!? She’s blind, isn’t she? I mean, I’m sure she knows that. It’s not a secret, and there’s nothing wrong with being blind.”

“I don’t know her well,” Julieta said, thoughtfully looking down at the shattered emerald glass. “She seems nice. I heard her family grows all those flowers so she can enjoy the scent.” She knelt down beside her brother as he idly pushed the broken pieces of vision back together. Now that the shock and frustration was wearing off, she was beginning to feel another spark of hope in her chest, even brighter than the previous one. “So the vision you saw before…that wasn’t…”

“I don’t think so, no. I told you, I couldn’t see the whole thing. It was pretty far in the future. That far off, things get all – ” Bruno made a wobbling motion with his hands, then shrugged.

“They look so happy,” Pepa commented with a romantic sigh, hands over her heart, as Bruno finished pushing the broken pieces back together. The youngest triplet beamed proudly again.

“I know, right? It’s a really good one!”

“I wonder why Arturo smashed it,” Julieta mused. Pepa and Bruno shrugged in unison.

“I wonder how long ‘til Mamá gets back,” Pepa said after a moment, eyeing the doorway nervously. Bruno’s shoulders sagged a little.

“I wonder how mad she’s gonna be at me for ruining dinner,” he quipped dryly. Julieta put an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey. You were just trying to help, okay?” she reassured softly. All three of them grew quiet for a moment, thinking. Suddenly Julieta stood up, exclaiming, “I have to go stop Agustín from coming!”

“Julieta, if you’re out of the house when Mamá gets back, she’ll have your head on a platter!” Pepa exclaimed, but Julieta paid her no heed; she was already retrieving a teal shawl from where it hung by the kitchen door.

“I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder as she left, not waiting for an answer. She had to warn Agustín while she had the chance; with the way things were going, it was going to be impossible for her to sneak out to meet him after her mother returned.

She was hurrying across the stone patio when she stopped short at a loud ”pssst!” coming from nearby. She whirled around to see Agustín poking his head carefully out from behind a large potted plant in one corner, just out of reach of the light being cast on the ground by Casita’s windows. He straightened up and stepped out hesitantly.

“I was nervous, so I showed up early to wait by the tree, but then I couldn’t remember which tree it was – ” Julieta rushed to him, throwing her arms around him and cutting off his stammered explanations with a passionate kiss. He stumbled back slightly in surprise, then wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. The kiss broke apart after several heated moments, but they kept their arms around each other, both breathing heavily.

“Bruno had another vision,” she gasped out frantically. “Arturo doesn’t marry me. I don’t marry Arturo.”

He stared at her in shock for a moment before a smile began to spread across his face. He laughed, a giddy, relieved sound, then leaned down to kiss her again.

Why did it take us so long to do this? Julieta found herself thinking as she desperately returned the kiss, reveling in the feeling of his arms wrapped around her. She wanted to spend the rest of her life within arm’s reach of him.

They paused for breath again, and Agustín moved his hands up to cup her face, gazing at her with pure adoration. Joyful tears pricked at her eyes.

Unfortunately, their happiness would prove to be short-lived.

“Julieta!” Her mother’s voice thundered out of the darkness, and they jumped apart as if they’d been struck by Pepa’s lightning. “What are you doing?”

“Mamá, I can explain–”

“Señora Madrigal, please – “

“Enough!” Alma commanded, and they both obediently fell silent. “Julieta Madrigal, I cannot believe this! How long has this been happening? What kind of girl are you, that you would carry on with this boy while being courted by another?”

The tears that had been joyful turned to hurt at her mother’s insult. Through her blurred vision, she saw the door to the kitchen open, a rectangle of light containing Pepa and Bruno’s shadows flooding onto the ground

“Mamá, please – “

“Señora, I can explain – “

“And you!” Alma turned her wrath on Agustín as despairing tears spilled down Julieta’s cheeks. “You clumsy boy, have you been injuring yourself on purpose just to get closer to my daughter?”

“Mamá, that’s not fair, it’s not his – “

“Leave this house, this moment!”

A heavy silence fell after the command. Agustín hesitated, glancing from the furious woman across from him to the tear-stained face of the one beside him. He swallowed bravely, then put his arm firmly around Julieta.

“No.”

Alma stared at him in shock. The words tumbled out of Agustín like rapid notes of music, crescendoing gradually.

“Señora, I know how much you and your family do for this entire town. I think all of you are just about the kindest, most dedicated people I’ve ever met. I probably wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for the Madrigals. You’ve practically made this town a paradise, and I have the utmost respect for you.” He paused, very slightly, taking a quick, deep breath to continue. “But you’re wrong to talk to Julieta like that. She’s done nothing wrong, or dishonorable, or shameful. All she’s ever wanted to do was to take care of everyone else, without ever stopping to ask that anyone take care of her. She was willing to marry a man she doesn’t love just to make you happy, and no one even asked if that’s what she wanted. And…and she deserves better than that. She deserves….everything,” he finished, his voice softening at the end as he looked down into Julieta’s face.

“Oh, Agustín,” she whispered softly, two more tears spilling from her eyes, following the tracks of those that had already fallen. He gazed into her eyes for a long moment, flashed her a half smile, then turned his head back to face her mother.

The silence that followed was oppressive. Even the air around the was unnaturally still, devoid of any breeze, and Julieta realized that Pepa must have been holding her breath in anticipation. Their mother was looking at Agustín with a strange, steady gaze, a slight frown creased between her eyebrows. Julieta felt him straighten up even taller beside her, as if he were trying to pass muster. When Alma finally spoke, she did so without breaking her gaze or changing expression.

“Go home to your parents,” Alma commanded evenly, in a tone that left no room for argument. Agustín stayed unflinching for a moment, his arm still firmly wrapped about Julieta’s shoulders, then he turned his head to glance down at her with searching eyes, as if to ask her permission. She nodded, and bravely attempted a feeble smile. He looked for a moment as though he were going to kiss her forehead, but then thought better of it, and settled on squeezing her shoulders gently before finally releasing her.

In order to leave the property, he had to walk past Alma, and he walked slowly but steadily, as though she were a hungry, sleeping jaguar waiting to pounce. For her part, she stood without moving a muscle, save for her eyes, which followed him without blinking. When he was almost past her, he paused, as though he wanted to say something else, but she spoke first.

“Julieta and I will be talking to your mother and father in the morning. After she apologizes to the Guzmáns,” she added firmly. Julieta’s eyes locked with Agustín’s briefly as he glanced back; it was hard to tell from Alma’s stern tone, but it sounded as though maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t going to forbid them from seeing each other.

“Si, Señora,” he responded, his voice quiet but unafraid. Alma jerked her head once, clearly indicating for him to be on his way, and he disappeared into the night. When he was gone, she looked first to Julieta, then to Pepa and Bruno still hovering in the doorway.

“You three. Explain.”

Chapter Text

The triplets trooped inside ahead of their mother and sat down at the table silently. The half-eaten dishes from dinner still sat where they had been left. Alma paused briefly to pick up a cup of coffee that Casita had poured, then sat down regally at the head of the table.

They were all silent for a while, except for Pepa’s rhythmic deep breaths in and out as she willed any clouds away from above her head. Julieta kept her hands in her lap, gripping the ends of the shawl she had put on tightly. When Alma finally spoke, it was to Bruno first.

“What were in the visions? Both of them,” she specified.

Bruno shifted uncomfortably, but began to describe the vision he had seen when Julieta first asked for one. When he was finished, he added, "But like I said, we couldn’t see everyone at the table, and it was really far in the future. And then I realized that what I had looked for was the Madrigal family’s future with the Guzmán family, and that maybe it didn’t have anything to do with Julieta at all! That’s when I decided to look into Arturo’s future instead.” At this, he pulled the broken vision pieces out of his pocket and put them together on the table where they could all see.

Alma regarded the green glass, her face still smooth and expressionless. “Julieta. How long have you been seeing this…this other boy, this Agustín?” she asked. Julieta glanced up for a moment, then quickly returned her gaze to her lap.

“Um…two days?” she ventured, her voice sounding small in her own ears. She wasn’t sure exactly what “seeing” him consisted of, but she figured counting from their first unexpected kiss in the kitchen would be adequate.

“Pepa, is that true?” Alma asked, turning her sharp eyes on her other daughter.

“As far as I know, yes,” Pepa said, holding her hands up defensively as if to say don’t blame me.

“Wait, you knew already?” Bruno interjected. The way he said it made Julieta look up; she realized that neither of them had told Bruno about her and Agustín, and yet from his tone, he sounded as though he definitely knew. She made a mental note to ask him if he’d seen anything else in her future that he wasn’t telling her.

“Bruno, Pepa. I ask that you go to your rooms for the night now. I want to talk to Julieta alone.” Wordlessly, Pepa and Bruno scooted their chairs back and left the room. Three seconds of silence passed before Bruno poked his head back around the corner.

“I, uh, haven’t had any dinner…”

Alma closed her eyes in a manner that Julieta knew meant she was trying to keep from rolling them in exasperation, then opened them and nodded with her head to Bruno’s untouched plate. He scampered back in to grab it, briefly making eye contact with Julieta and raising his eyes to the ceiling in a quick motion that she understood as a signal to meet him and Pepa later on in their spot. Then he was gone, and she was left alone with her mother.

In the silence, Alma lifted her coffee cup to her lips, taking a slow sip. She wordlessly motioned with her hand, and a second cup and saucer bounced over to land in front of Julieta, rattling slightly and almost splashing up over the cup’s rim as it settled. Julieta looked up at her mother, unsure of what this meant; she had been expecting a reprimand, a lecture, but this seemed like….an invitation, of some sort? Her mother met her gaze and nodded once down to the cup. She did not smile, but she no longer looked angry, and Julieta felt relief to see the kindness that was at the heart of her mother’s soul back in her eyes again. Julieta picked it up and sipped it carefully, cupping her hands around the cup for warmth.

“Tell me about this boy.”

So Julieta told her mamá everything. About how she had never paid any mind to Agustín, or any other boy for that matter, until the day she happened to hear him playing such beautiful music, all alone at the church piano. She told about their piano lessons, and how Agustín had never grown frustrated or impatient with her no matter how terrible she was, and about how genuinely kind he was to Bruno, to everyone. How after his birthday party, he hadn’t even come to get his injuries healed for weeks because he had heard that she was intended for Arturo and he didn’t want to be in the way. She told of how Agustín said he would always care for her and support her, even if she made the choice to marry another man. All that she left out was their walk by the river; that part, she wanted to keep sealed up in her own heart.

Alma listened as her daughter spoke, sipping her coffee. After Julieta had finished, her mother set down her cup and asked quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Julieta lifted her cup to her lips in order to hide her expression for a moment. She couldn’t admit the first heartbreaking truth that sprang to her mind: because I’m afraid of you, Mamá. After a deep breath, she settled on the closest thing she could truthfully say. “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I wanted to do what was right for the family. For the encanto. And you seemed so sure that the right thing was Arturo…and then Bruno’s vision happened…I just wanted to make you happy.”

She finished in a whisper, then set her cup down with a sigh. To her surprise, her mother reached over to take her hand and held it gently but firmly. Julieta looked at their hands resting together on the table, then up at her mother’s face, confused to see the sadness that was there.

“I would never have forced you to marry Arturo, mija,” Alma reassured firmly. “Señora Guzmán and I were only trying to encourage the two of you to get together because we thought you would be a good match. I didn’t want to see you miss the chance to find happiness. Pepa has Félix, and Bruno - “ She stopped and shook her head, as though she had been about to reveal something about her son that she realized it was not her business to reveal. “I worried you would be too cautious to make a leap on your own.”

Julieta covered her mother’s hand with her free one. “I know you always want what’s best for us, Mamá,” she said softly. It was true, and it was something Julieta had always understood more easily than her siblings had. Alma nodded, placing her free hand on top of Julieta’s in turn. She held there for a moment, then patted her top hand three times and pulled away.

“This…young man of yours,” she began, standing up to clear their empty cups from the table, and Julieta realized it was the first time she had referred to Agustín as a young man instead of a boy. “He is a good man?”

“The best I’ve ever known,” Julieta replied without so much as a breath of hesitation, so much so that she was almost surprised at her own surety. “He’s…” She bit her lip, tears suddenly stinging her eyes as she continued, “He makes me think of what you tell us of Papá. How he was so kind, and so brave. I never knew how brave Agustín was until tonight,” she added, almost in a whisper.

“Do you love him?”

The question was so sudden, she almost thought she had imagined it for a moment. Her mother was by the counter, turned slightly away from her, and her expression was hard to decipher in the dim candlelight.

“I…” Julieta paused, even though she already knew the answer. “I haven’t….I haven’t told him so. It felt too soon. But he makes me feel safe, Mamá. And warm. Like sunshine.”

Alma seemed to nod a little to herself.

“I’m not pleased that you weren’t honest with me, Julieta. And I was serious about going with me in the morning to apologize to the Guzmáns.” Julieta wanted to protest that; after all, Bruno was the one who interrupted dinner. But she very quickly resigned herself that it would be better to bear that burden for her brother, especially since he had been trying to help. “However,” Alma continued carefully, “I am willing to hear this….Agustín of yours out, if he asks my blessing to court you. And if you recieve his family’s blessing in return.”

“Thank you, Mamá,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to be any louder.

Her mother turned to walk past her, but stopped to gently place her hands on Julieta’s shoulders. For the first time, it struck her that they were the same height now; her mother always seemed so tall and regal to her in the way she held herself, but here they stood, eye to eye. It almost seemed as though Alma had the same realization, as she looked at her daughter’s face with a mixture of sadness and pride. She leaned up to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “Goodnight, mi vida.”

“Goodnight, Mamá.”

Julieta looked around, realizing suddenly that she had been left with a dining table full of dirty dishes. She huffed softly in exasperation, and made a mental note to ask Bruno to do the dishes for her, especially since she was the one having to go apologize for the interrupted dinner. After waiting a few minutes for Alma to have a head start, she made her way up the stairs. Instead of turning to go to her own room, she headed for the room at the front of the house that was once the triplets’ nursery. She slipped through the door, shutting it quietly behind her. The plate Bruno had taken up with him sat on the nightstand, mostly empty.

Pepa and Bruno were both already sitting on the roof, waiting for her.

Chapter Text

“How’d it go?” Bruno asked as she climbed out the window onto the roof tiles, careful not to tear her dress. He had his knees drawn up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, his usual posture when they sat up here.

“Much better than I expected,” Julieta replied, still a little amazed as she settled herself in the space they’d left between the two of them for her. They usually put whoever was the one most in need of comfort in the center, without even thinking about it. “It was…I don’t know how to explain, really. It was almost nice, talking to Mamá like that.”

“I thought Mamá was going to murder Agustín right where he stood,” Pepa exclaimed, laughing about it now that it was all over. “She was terrifying! And he was so romantic, defending your honor in the face of such grave danger,” she added with an exaggerated sigh, leaning herself dramatically against Julieta’s shoulder and throwing the back of one hand against her own forehead.

Julieta laughed, leaning forward to briefly rub her palms against her eyes, which felt tired from crying earlier. “I thought she was going to lock me up in my room for the rest of my days, only letting me out to make more arepas,” she said, then let out a happy sigh. “But after our talk, I think Mamá is going to allow me to keep seeing Agustín.”

“She will,” Bruno commented, resting his chin on his knees as he looked out at the town. Julieta looked over at him and cocked an eyebrow.

“You sound awfully sure of that, hermano,” she said, nudging him gently with her shoulder. On her other side, Pepa scoffed.

“He’s been dancing around the subject ever since we got up here! All he’ll tell me is that he had another vision before he brought down the one of Arturo and Bianca, but he won’t tell me what was in it!”

“I wanted to wait for Julieta!” Bruno exclaimed defensively. “It’s her future, after all.”

“OUR future! I was in that vision, too, si?”

“What did you see?” Julieta asked gently, before a squabble could begin in earnest.

“I looked at the same thing you and I saw together. Sometimes it takes less work to revisit a vision that’s already happened. But I wanted to see the rest of the table, see who else was sitting at that dinner,” he admitted, then looked over at her and gave a lopsided grin. “Agustín was there.”

Julieta felt her heart leap; that vision had to have been at least twenty, maybe thirty years in the future. If Agustín was still in her life then, sitting at their family table…

She smacked the side of Bruno’s leg gently with the back of her hand, causing him to yelp quietly. “Why didn’t you just TELL me THAT?”

“Hey, easy! I only looked today. And I didn’t want to tell you because…I wanted you to be able to make your own choice. I didn’t want you to feel like you had no say in your own future,” he added softly, smiling at her again.

“Then why did you already tell me that I marry Félix, huh?” Pepa interjected from the other side. Bruno grinned mischievously.

“Because you were driving everyone crazy! The whole town should be grateful to me for telling you that.”

Pepa moved as though she were going to scramble over and punch her brother, but Julieta held up her hand. “No fighting up here, that’s the rule,” she reminded. Pepa settled back down grumpily. “Besides, I could have told you that you were going to marry Félix, even without looking into the future. It’s just a matter of time.”

The three of them were quiet together for a long while, looking out into the night. Sounds of evening floated up from the village; soft guitar notes drifted along the breeze from someone’s porch, and occasional laughter would trickle up from a nearby family having a last cup of coffee together outside.

This had been their spot since they were children together; it was both out of sight of the candle window (and therefore their mother) and relatively easy to get to. From here, they could look out over the village that lay below, nestled safely within the high mountains that surrounded them like a loving parent’s embrace. Up here, they didn’t need to be the amazing Madrigals; they could just be.

Julieta was the one to break the silence.

“What about you, Bruno?” she asked quietly. The words her mother had left unsaid about her brother were nibbling away at the corner of her thoughts.

“What about me?”

“You’ve seen bits of our futures. Is there…” She hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Is there someone for you, somewhere down the road?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Bruno replied, and she was a little surprised at how casual yet firm his answer was. “I mean…I just…I don’t have any interest, you know?”

It was Pepa who asked, “In girls, or….?”

“In anyone,” he finished, shrugging. “I mean…look, you know I would tell the two of you first if there ever was anyone. And it’s not like I’m against the idea of…um…falling in love, or anything. I think it’s great for other people! I just…I don’t see romance in my future. It’s just not my thing.”

Julieta nodded thoughtfully in understanding. “I think I know what you mean, a little? I never really noticed anyone before Agustín. I would hear other girls talk about how certain boys were handsome, and swoon all over them, and I just…I never felt that way. I never understood it. But I guess I have wanted to feel that way, on some level, so maybe we’re different there.

“You’re both crazy,” Pepa declared, eliciting a laugh from Julieta and a grin from Bruno. She stretched her long arms out with a yawn. “And I’m going to bed. You two coming in?” she asked.

“In a minute,” Julieta said, catching Pepa’s eye and throwing her a loving wink. Pepa winked back and nodded in response. No matter how much they all three loved each other, it was no secret that Bruno often had an easier time opening up to Julieta than to Pepa. It was something Pepa had pouted about when they were children, but now accepted, knowing that they would always fill her in later, when he was ready. “Buenas noches, manita.”

“Buenas noches, corazones,” Pepa replied, blowing a kiss for both of them, then disappeared through the shutters.

Julieta let the silence settle in again to a comfortable point before asking, “What’s bothering you about what you saw?”

“It’s nothing,” Bruno replied, a little too quickly. She frowned lightly and moved a hand to rub his back softly before putting her arm around his shoulders.

“You don’t have to tell me. But you can. You can always tell me,” she reassured gently. Another long silence passed between them. Lights had gradually begun to wink out as the townspeople went to bed. She had finally decided that he really wasn’t going to tell her anything, and was about to suggest they both go back inside, when he spoke.

“I couldn’t see myself in the vision.”

He said it without changing position, just continued to gaze out at the village below with his chin on his knees. Julieta paused; she knew asking the wrong question would spook him, so she chose her words carefully.

“Does that worry you?”

“A little,” he admitted. “I mean, I was probably just out, or something. Or up in my tower. It just felt…weird. Seeing all these other people at the table, and not me.”

Julieta worried her lower lip; she had so many questions that she was yearning to ask (How many children at the table? Can you tell which are mine, and which are Pepa’s? Do they all have Gifts, like us?) but she knew that all those questions were selfish, and that now was not the time.

“We’re not gonna let anything happen to you, you know that, right?” She squeezed his shoulders. “You’ve got me, and Pepa, and Mamá all looking out for you. And it seems like you’ll have two brothers-in-law added to the mix, sooner or later.”

“Not to mention an Amazon of a niece,” he muttered, smiling to himself.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

She shook her head, smiling, then leaned over to kiss Bruno’s cheek. “It’s all gonna be fine. You’ll see.” Giving his shoulders one last squeeze, she released him and carefully stood up. “You coming in?”

“Yeah, in a minute. Just wanna enjoy the air by myself for a little while,” he replied.

“Okay.” She started to climb back in, but stopped halfway through the window. “Hey, Bruno?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re on dish duty.”

He looked back at her with a thoroughly offended expression, and she grinned. “Buenas noches, hermanito!” she called in a sing-song voice, and was rewarded with a grin back from him in return.

“Night, sis.”

Chapter Text

Julieta was up with the sun the next morning. Her routine was to cook breakfast for the family, then make enough food to handle most of the village's injuries. Sometimes her mother helped with the family breakfast, and less often, Pepa and Bruno did, as well. But this morning it was just her and Casita. Thankfully, it seemed Bruno had at least done the dishes before going to bed the night before.

She had just finished preparing breakfast when she heard her name being shouted from outside. Frowning, she wiped her hands on her apron, then instinctively grabbed a couple of arepas and stowed them away in her pockets; usually if someone came calling specifically for her this early, it was because they needed her help.

When she stepped outside, she was surprised to see Arturo running up the path to the house, breathing heavily. “Arturo, what’s – “

“Agustín. There was an accident – ” he panted, his eyes fearful for his friend.

Julieta was already running before he finished speaking, harder than she’d ever run before in her life, feet pounding against the stone streets. She ran until her lungs burned in her chest. A small knot of people crowded in the doorway of the Gómez home, murmuring in concern. As soon as they saw Julieta, they parted to let her through.

She had never been squeamish about blood, and she had seen more than her fair share, considering the nature of her Gift. But she still felt nauseated by the sight that met her when she entered the house. Señora Gómez was on the kitchen floor, cradling her unconscious son in her lap, while his father knelt at his side, holding a bloodied kitchen towel tightly wrapped around Agustín’s left hand. There was a streak of blood on the floor, as though it had been slipped in. Agustín’s face was ashen.

“We found him like this, he must have been trying to cook breakfast,” Señora Gómez choked out. Julieta knelt by Agustín’s side, ripping off a tiny bite of arepa and carefully working it into his mouth. She mentally berated herself for only grabbing food and not a single vial of liquid medicine that she kept on hand; her food could heal a lot, but only if the injured person could actually eat it.

“Agustín? Agustín, eat, querido,” she murmured, taking his chin in one hand and shaking his face gently. Relief flooded through her when he involuntarily swallowed, and she tore off another piece of arepa, placing it in his mouth as he blinked and opened his eyes. “Eat,” she repeated, and he obediently chewed and swallowed the second bite, then pulled his hand out of his father’s grasp and looked at it. It was still bloodied, but the injury was healed.

“Hola, Julieta,” he mumbled, a weak smiling tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Agustín’s mother let out a sob of relief, and his father wrapped his arms around his wife and son. Julieta closed her eyes and sat back on her heels, exhaling slowly. Her heart was pounding wildly in her ears, and she still felt breathless from her desperate run. From the doorway, impromptu applause broke out amongst the onlookers. She felt Agustín’s arm snake around her hips and tug her closer, and she opened her eyes just as his mother put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the family hug.

“Our angel,” Señora Gómez cried. Julieta tried to smile, but she felt shaky and cold. After a moment, she pulled out of the embrace and got to her feet, rushing out the back door, away from the crowd. She braced herself with one hand against the side of the house and retched, thankful that there was nothing in her stomach to actually throw up.

“Julieta?”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she straightened her spine and turned to look at him. His skin was still a little gray, and a few strands of hair clung to his clammy forehead, but the color was already returning to his face.

“You should go lie down for a bit. You need to let your blood replenish,” she said, trying to make her voice sound authoritative, but even to her own ears, she sounded choked.

“I’m all right,” he said, dismissing her concerns with a wave of his still-bloody hand. He noticed the mess still on his skin and awkwardly put that hand behind his back, then stepped forward and brushed a fallen strand of hair out of her face with his cleaner hand. “Are you all right?”

“You scared me,” she blurted out, half sobbing as she took a step back from his touch, crossing her arms over her chest as though they could shield her hurting heart. “What on earth were you doing?”

Agustín frowned and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I had trouble sleeping last night. So I got up early, thought I’d cook breakfast. I sliced through my hand with a boning knife,” he said sheepishly, holding up the previously-injured appendage for emphasis. “It…was pretty bad, honestly, but I was trying to find a towel to hold pressure on it, and I slipped. I guess I hit my head and passed out, because the next thing I knew, you were feeding me an arepa.”

Julieta looked away from him, trying to cross her arms even more tightly. She had been healing people’s injuries for nearly fifteen years, and she had seen worse injuries, actual life-threatening injuries, not just a sliced open palm with an unsightly amount of blood loss, but nothing had ever made her feel like this. She had heard people say that love could hurt, but she always thought they meant that it hurt when it ended, or was unrequited, or something like that. She didn’t know it could hurt like this, didn’t know she could feel this much fear and pain over another person.

“Hey,” Agustín said softly, and she looked up to see him holding out a hand to her. Offering comfort, but not demanding she take it. Somehow that small distinction was enough, and she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his neck.

“You scared me,” she repeated, softer this time, and he rubbed one hand across her back comfortingly, keeping the other arm firmly around her waist.

“I’m sorry, querida,” he murmured into her hair, and she let out a muffled laugh against him. “What’s funny?”

“It’s just…I called you querido while you were unconscious. I don’t think we’ve used any...um...terms of endearment for one another before,” she said, pulling away to look up at him. He grinned widely at her, and she couldn’t help feeling better at how simultaneously charming and goofy his expression was.

“Maybe we can try out a few more,” he said, and waggled his eyebrow in a way that made her blush, but his expression sobered a little as he remembered where they left off the night before. “That is, if your mamá isn’t planning my execution.”

“That seems unnecessary,” said a voice from behind them, and they turned their heads to see her mother standing with Agustín’s parents just outside the doorway. Arturo Guzmán and his mother (who looked thoroughly bewildered) stood just behind them, and Bruno and Pepa were peeping through the shutters inside. “Although it does appear you might not survive more than two days without my daughter’s help.”

Julieta released her arms from around Agustín, but looped her hand through the crook of his elbow as they faced their families. He covered her hand with his.

“I don’t want to survive even one day without your daughter, Señora,” Agustín replied sincerely, and Julieta thought she saw a flicker of a smile at the corner of her mother’s mouth before Alma turned to speak to the Gómezes and the Guzmáns.

“Since it seems everyone’s breakfast has been….delayed,” she said, “Why don’t we all have breakfast together at our home? I feel a few explanations may be in order.” As expressions of thanks and appreciation were being uttered, she looked over her shoulder at Agustín and Julieta. “You two should get cleaned up. And Julieta, you have work to do at home,” Alma reminded. “Don’t forget that the town is counting on us.”

“Yes, Mamá,” Julieta murmured. She paused, then called after the retreating figures, “Arturo? Could I…could we talk?” Senora Guzmán looked like she wanted to protest, but Arturo smiled and patted his mother's shoulder reassuringly as he stepped back outside. Bruno and Pepa made no move to leave their spot in the window; Julieta rolled her eyes and added, “Privately,” with a glare in their direction, and they disappeared. Julieta looked up at Agustín. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile, and his eyes were so full of trust and admiration for her that she fell just a little bit more in love with him. She wondered if she would just keep falling deeper and deeper for the rest of their lives. “I’ll go clean up,” he added before going back inside.

Arturo gestured to a bench that sat under the shade of a tree in the courtyard, and they sat down together.

“Why didn’t you want your mother to see that vision?” Julieta asked, getting straight to the point. Arturo sighed.

“My mother…she got the idea that you and I would be perfect together. And Bianca doesn’t know I exist,” he admitted, sounding glum. “So I thought…since I don’t have a chance with Bianca anyway, I should go along with what Mamá wanted.”

“Why are you so convinced that you don’t have a chance with Bianca?” Julieta asked incredulously. Arturo’s shoulders sagged forward.

“Because I don’t know how to talk to her. And…well, I mean…look, I know I’m good looking, I’ve been told that my whole life,” he said, sounding both embarrassed and frustrated. “But that doesn’t exactly do me any good in this situation. And I get so tongue-tied around her! And I do stupid stuff, like try to wave to her from across the town square, but then I feel so…so dumb...”

“You’re not dumb,” Julieta reassured firmly. “It can be hard to say what you feel. Believe me, I know,” she reminded, and he smiled a little.

“I can say it if I write it,” he said, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a creased, folded square of paper. He hesitated, then thrust it into Julieta’s hands. She carefully opened it, scanning the unfinished poem inside. “But I don’t have the courage to read that to her outloud. And…well…she can’t read it herself. I could give it to one of her sisters, but…I’m afraid they’d all just laugh at me.”

“What if you sung it to her?” Julieta asked suddenly. A flicker of hope passed across Arturo’s face, but then died again.

“I don’t know how to come up with music. I mean, I can sing okay, but I don’t know how to write music…”

Julieta grinned and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet and towards Agustín’s door. “Maybe you don’t, but I know someone who does. Come on.”

Chapter Text

“All right, so,” Julieta said to her siblings, glancing at the late afternoon sun. It was the day of the festival, and she’d been on hand in town with her table full of food for a couple of hours already, ready to dole out any remedies needed. “Pepa, you and I will go catch Bianca and Catalina as they’re leaving their house and tell them that Arturo has a surprise for Bianca. Bruno, you stay here and watch the table while we’re gone. Agustín and Arturo will meet us there.”

“It feels like we’re setting up an ambush,” Bruno remarked, a little nervously. “Why can’t Pepa stay? Whenever I have to guard your food, people always come up to me wanting their future told.”

“Because Pepa knows Catalina better than either of us do, and Catalina is our in.”

“It feels like something out of a story!” Pepa squealed, clapping her hands together happily.

“And thanks to Bruno, we know it has a happy ending,” Julieta added, fondly ruffling her brother’s hair.

“There are no happy endings, because nothing ends,” Bruno responded, in a way that sounded as if he were quoting something. When Julieta tilted her head questioningly at him, he shrugged. “Heard it in a vision once and liked it. Anyway, it’s not fair that I don’t get to go, too.”

“Go where, Brunito?” a new voice asked, as their mother stepped into view.

“Pepa and I were going to go walk around for a bit,” Julieta said quickly. For some reason, letting their mamá in on the plot seemed like a breach of code. Besides, it wasn’t a lie, not really. “Bruno was going to stay and watch the table for me.”

“Why don’t all three of you go on ahead?” Alma suggested, smiling at her three children. “Enjoy yourselves. You are young. I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

All three of them stared at their mother, surprised for a moment, but they quickly murmured an enthusiastic chorus of “thank you, Mamá” before she could change her mind.

“She’s in a good mood because Félix gave her flowers this morning,” Julieta said when they were out of earshot, and Pepa grinned happily. “He certainly is a charmer.”

“He wants to make sure Mamá likes him before he – “ But Pepa cut herself off, clapping a hand over her mouth. Julieta’s eyes widened, and she grabbed her sister’s forearm.

“Pepa, is Félix going to propose?” she asked excitedly. A smile tugged at the corner of Pepa’s lips, and she nodded.

“Si. Next month, after our birthday.”

It was Julieta’s turn to squeal as she threw her arms around her sister. Next to them, Bruno just grinned, satisfied, as if he knew all this would happen and had just been waiting for it.

“How long til you think Agustín will propose?” Pepa asked teasingly after they’d finished hugging, nodding her head towards where Agustín and Arturo were waiting at the bottom of the side street they’d crossed down. Julieta blushed.

“We’ve only been seeing each other just over a week, Pepa! Give us time,” she murmured, although her pulse had already quickened at the thought. She hadn’t yet told Agustín that Bruno had seen him at their family table in the future, because she couldn’t bear the thought of taking the choice away from him. She wanted him to love her of his own free will, not because fate had decided it for them.

Agustín was holding a guitar, keeping both hands on it as though he wanted to make sure he didn’t drop it before they had carried off their plan. Arturo was pacing fretfully.

“I don’t want to do it out in the main square, or anything. Maybe somewhere that’s a little more private, without being….you know…improperly private? Besides,” he added, “What if she thinks I’m ridiculous? What if she laughs?”

“She won’t,” Julieta said firmly as they approached. “Now come on. It’s just another street down.”

The five of them started walking. “Um, won’t we be a little conspicuous, just…hanging out while this goes down?” Bruno ventured to ask.

“It’s not like we’re going to be sitting in Bianca’s lap,” Julieta replied in a whisper. “After Pepa talks to Catalina, and then hopefully Catalina persuades Bianca to hear Arturo out, we’ll sort of…um…meander on, I think?” she finished, unsure of how much distance they would need to leave.

“Catalina! Bianca!” Pepa called, waving one arm in the air, and Julieta nearly ran into Arturo when he stopped still, frozen to the spot. Pepa hurried over to greet the other two girls; the three of them stood in a knot, giggling and talking together for a moment, and Julieta was surprised to feel a little pang of regret. She talked to people in the village all the time, but as she had grown older and her responsibilities mounted, she hadn’t really allowed herself time for friends the way Pepa had.

She shook away the feeling and placed an encouraging arm on Arturo’s broad shoulder. “That’s your cue,” she whispered when she saw Pepa beckon in their direction. Arturo lurched forward awkwardly. Agustín strayed behind for a moment to give Julieta a loving look and a wink that made her blush, then trailed behind the other man with his guitar.

Arturo approached the women tentatively; Pepa and Catalina stepped aside simultaneously to allow him room to talk to the girl he was focused on. He whispered something in Bianca’s ear, and she smiled as she tilted her head to listen. She asked him a question that Julieta could not hear, and Arturo looked around, seeming to take stock of what people were nearby. He spoke to her again. After a moment, she nodded, still smiling shyly, and Julieta could see Arturo’s exhale of relief. He motioned to Agustín, who stepped closer, guitar in hand. He began to play a soft, lilting melody. It was unobtrusively beautiful, almost as though it were just being carried on the wind instead of made by human hands. Arturo began to sing the poem he had written, in a way that was too tender and sincere to seem at all ridiculous like he had feared.

“Wow, are you sure you picked the right man?” Pepa whispered as she quietly stepped back into place beside Julieta, nudging her teasingly, but Julieta wasn’t listening to Arturo’s singing. She only had eyes and ears for Agustín; the way his fingers plucked so deftly at the strings, drawing music from the guitar as effortlessly as drawing breath. The way his hair flopped down over his forehead as he looked down at the guitar in his hands, occasionally looking up at her (always at her, as though they were the only two people there). She could feel joyful tears pricking at her eyes, enough to make them shine brightly, but not enough to spill over onto her cheeks. This was what magic truly felt like.

When Arturo finished singing, he walked over to Bianca and said something that made her smile and nod happily. He grinned, looking relieved, and offered her his arm. They strolled off together towards the main square without another word to anyone else.

“Well, there goes my dance partner for the night,” Catalina said, laughing as she came to stand beside Pepa. She paused, then eyed Bruno shyly standing behind Julieta. “Bruno! Wanna fill in as my date?” she asked boldly, grinning.

Bruno looked utterly terrified.

“Uh…um…as friends, though, right? Because I mean…I’m not…”

“Oh, one hundred percent as friends,” Catalina reassured quickly, looping her arm through his. “It’ll be fun! I owe you Madrigals for helping my sister out. She’s been moping over Arturo for almost an entire year now,” she confided as she began to drag Bruno along with her towards the lights and noise of the town square. “Come on, tequila for everyone!”

Julieta laughed, linking her arm through Agustín’s comfortably after he’d slung his guitar over one shoulder. “I like Catalina,” she remarked to Pepa.

“Si, she’s fun,” Pepa answered, then glowed like sunshine when she caught sight of Félix waiting for her at the edge of the crowd. She waved her arms to get his attention, and he barreled towards them, scooping her up over his shoulder.

“The most beautiful girl in town has arrived!” Félix shouted as he spun her around. Pepa laughed breathlessly.

“Félix! Félix, put me down!” she laughed, and he obliged, but not before dipping her into a kiss. She stumbled a little when he set her on her feet again and grinned lovingly at him.

“Come on, mi amor, the whole evening awaits!” he said, then threw a wink back at Julieta and Agustín. “And we gotta let these two new little love birds have some time to themselves, eh?” he added before whisking Pepa out into the crowd.

Julieta and Agustín stopped, watching the party together from the outskirts for a moment. There were several tables dotted along the edge of the open square, most of them mismatched because people had pulled their own furniture out of houses to create spaces for people to sit down. Agustín pulled her over to one and set his guitar down.

“Might be hard to dance with that,” he explained, grinning. “That is, if you think you’d feel safe dancing with the most accident-prone man in town.”

“I always feel safe with you,” Julieta replied without thinking, then blushed at the admission. She didn’t know why she should blush to speak the truth, but so many things about Agustín made her feel things she didn’t yet understand. He softly took both her hands in his larger ones and kissed her knuckles gently. After a moment, he glanced down and grinned.

“You’re still wearing your apron,” he remarked, and she realized he was right; she had put on her prettiest dress to go out for the evening, but her apron remained tied around her waist. She quickly undid the strings and took it off, folding it before laying it down next to his guitar.

“I forget I have it on, most of the time,” she admitted. “I’m so used to wearing it…my Gift does involve a lot of kitchen messes.”

“I hope I can always remind you that you’re more than just your Gift,” Agustín said softly, reaching up to brush his thumb against her cheek. She leaned into the touch, smiling, then noticed his eyes travel up to her hair, wound up in its usual bun at the back of her head. He hesitated, his fingers reaching, then asked, “May I…?”

She nodded, feeling breathless as his fingers gently searched for the hairpins. Some part of her brain echoed that she shouldn’t let him do such an intimate thing as letting her hair down in public, but she couldn’t focus on anything except how good it felt to share the space with him. Setting the hairpins on top of her apron, he carefully helped shake her hair loose, stroking his fingers along the dark tresses a few more times than was strictly necessary.

A firework went off overhead, the first one of the evening; dusk had given way to evening. Both their faces were momentarily bathed in golden light as they smiled at one another. Then Agustín offered her his arm; she looped her hand through the crook of his elbow easily, as though she’d been doing it her entire life.

“It’s nice to see something have a happy ending,” Agustín mused, watching as Arturo and Bianca danced together at the edge of the crowd, lost in their own world. Julieta smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I think it’s more like a happy beginning.”