Julio was the first one to find out about Coco. He didn't need her to tell him, because he knew what to look for. The sag in Coco's shoulders and the haziness in her eyes told him all he needed to know-- that and her whispery voice, which he had to lean closer to hear.

It worried him, just like the other times. It shook him to his very core. He was glad it only happened every once in a while, otherwise he would've lost it a long time ago. It was bad enough she'd had plenty of days where she'd overworked herself to much when she was alive, feeling to worn out to do anything the next day. But this was different. There shouldn't be sickness in the Land of the Dead. This type of thing shouldn't exist here. It made no sense whatsoever, and yet it was still happening. He wasn't at all comforted by this. Not in the least bit.

Julio stared at Coco, who'd fallen asleep a few minutes ago, taking in hoarse breaths. Her hands were under her head like a pillow even though she already had one under her. Her white hair was slighty blowing in the breeze from the open windows, frizzier and more untamed then usual since wasn't braided. And she was shaking, even with two layers of blankets over her. She rolled over to face the window and coughed. Julio couldn't supress a wince at how loud it was.

Not knowing what else to do, Julio took a deep breath and went over to his bedside, sitting down closer than usual to Coco and running his fingers through her hair like he used to do when she was like this. It was another way she was just like Mamá Imelda, who also liked it when her hair was down and someone was stroking it.

But unlike Mamá Imelda, who, though has a temper shorter than anyone else in this familia, would let someone do this to her, Coco's eyes snapped open on the third stroke, and she gave Julio a hard look.

"Stop it, mi amor. Go downstairs. I'll be fine."

Julio flinched and retracted his hand, but otherwise didn't move. "You're sick, Coco. I can't leave you alone."

Closing her eyes, Coco sighed as she reached over and weakly squeezed Julio's hand. Her face shifted from firm to pained as she stared at him. "This has happened before," she whispered. "I've had much more severe times than this. And, besides, it's not like it can kill me now."

Julio nodded. "I know, but..." He trailed off briefly. "But I'm worried about you."

"You're always worried" was Coco's sarcastic reply before she broke down into a fit of coughs, pulling her hand from Julio's and bringing both hands to her face. When her fit subsided, she gave Julio a milky-eyed that caused him to cringe faintly.

"I know you hate seeing me like this, but don't give up your whole day just for me. There's nothing that I hate more than seeing you like this."

Julio knew he should leave, because Coco was right and he didn't want to argue any further in case Coco got any angrier than she already seemed. He wanted to give in and leave and give his wife what she wanted. But he couldn't even bring himself to stand. He thought of when she was pregnant with Victoria and would be throwing up in the morning and eating more (and sometimes less) than she should've been and would be wearier than normal throughout the day.

This was a different situation but it looked to Julio like it had some of the same side effects.

Julio sighed. "At least let me tell everyone so they don't wonder why you're still up here."

Coco huffed and nodded slowly. "Fine." Then she turned her head away and pulled the blankets over her head.

Julio exited the room, closing the door behind him, filled with dread. After running things over in his mind, he knew exactly who he should tell first.