A/N: Inspired by one of my favorite fanfics. Only with a different character discovering Héctor's notes to Imelda and Coco. Hope you enjoy it.

Imelda,

I know it was only supposed to be two months, but we were asked to do more performances. Lo siento. I keep you and Coco in my heart each day, and when me and Ernesto perform I think of you. At the most, we'll only be gone for one more week. Don't forget: the more concerts I do, the more money I can send home to you. Tell Coco that her papá misses her and loves her.

Te amo, mi amor.

Even in the dark of the attic space, Elena could still decipher the words, the neat and swirly handwriting not fazing her in the least. She'd been looking for something for her sister, when she'd stumbled upon the box full of notes.

The papers were wrinkled, and there was no signature at the end. Just short notes with either Mamá Imelda's or Mamá's name at the top. Some had drawings on the side. Drawings of dolls or smiling faces. Those ones usually had Mamá's name. The ones with drawings of roses or hearts or no drawing at all had Mamá Imelda's name instead. Elena had the box open and in front of her, the various notes she'd already read set aside. She knew it was wrong, but really, as long as no one finds out, what's the harm?

Elena grabs another note.

Coco,

Mi angelita. I miss you so much, but it shouldn't be much longer. Just three more days. I promise. I should be back before your birthday. I'll tell you all about the trip after it's over, and when I get back, you and I can start singing our song again. Three more days, mija. That's all. Tell your mamá that I love you both so much.

There were two drawings in the upper margins, both featuring smiling dolls with fancy dresses and styled hair. Elena traced the swirled writing, the drawings, reaching for another piece of paper.

The sign serving as the door to the attic was lifted open, causing Elena to jump. Victoria peered at her in the opening, the sunlight from outside refecting off of her glasses, her thin figure leaning inside the attic space as she stared Elena down while holding the door open.

"Did you find the books yet? You were up here for a long time."

Elena swallowed and shook her head, her hand still gripping the letter as Victoria climbed inside. She crawled over to Elena and tilted her head at the open box.

"Where did you find that?" Victoria fixed her eyes on the box and the papers at Elena's feet.

Elena pointed to a part of the attic, where a pile of discarded and cluttered items was positioned.

"I was looking for your books," she explained. "But I saw these letters."

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Who are they from?"

"No sé. There's no signature."

Victoria grabbed a piece of paper from the box and read it aloud.

Imelda,

I wish you chose to come with us. You would've loved the fiesta Ernesto and I performed at. You could've sang with us. You have a beautiful voice, mi vida. I hope you don't mind that we played "Un Poco Loco" for this concert. The audience loved it. Ay, how you would've loved this performance, Imelda. You and I could've danced the night away.

"Sounds like Mamá Imelda had an admirer," Elena teased. "Uno esposo."

Victoria's eyes narrowed. "But whoever this was, they never came back." She sets the paper down and frowns. "Whoever wrote this left his familia."

"But why?" Elena asked, looking at the stack of assorted notes.

Victoria sighed. "Either something happened... or they simply didn't care."

Elena stared at her, furrowing her brow. "But that's loco. Of course they cared. Who would be selfish enough to leave their familia forever?"

Mamá's voice from below interrupts their conversation. "Mijas, it's dinner time! Dónde estás?"

Victoria huffed as she started toward the attic opening. "Elena, this isn't our business. Let's leave it alone, okay?"

"But--"

Victoria had already started to climb down. "No, Elena. Put the letters back."

"Victoria--"

Her sister was already gone.

Elena slowly put the letters away, shoving the box into the attic corner where they originally were. But even as she tried to force the image of the writing out of her mind, her questions could not be quieted.

Who were those notes from?

Why did they leave Mamá Imelda alone forever?

Did they ever care about her?

It took all of Elena's strength to keep her mouth shut the rest of the day.