Camilo wakes up early.

He's always been an early riser, but today he's awake even earlier than usual.

It might be that he's worried. He had trouble getting to sleep last night, too.

He was up late, thinking about Bruno.

More accurately, he was thinking about the look on Bruno's face last night, after dinner, when Abuela showed up and asked to speak with him.

Bruno's weird, yeah. Definitely a nervous type of guy. Timid, even, at times.

And of course, there was that whole "we need to talk about Bruno" thing with Dolores and his cousins yesterday.

And there had been the thing with the hood. And Hernando. Twice.

None of that, however, had prepared him-could ever have prepared him- for the look of pure, unadulterated terror on his uncle's face when Abuela asked to speak with him.

Camilo doesn't understand. He knows Abuela can be stern. Strict. Maybe a little too demanding, on occasion, but she means well. He knows that. He knows she loves them, even if sometimes she can be too hard on them.

But to be afraid-no, terrified-of Abuela?

Camilo doesn't understand it at all.

He goes looking for his papá. He doesn't want to ask Mamá. She and Abuela don't always get along, and she's got enough to worry about with Antonio anyway.

His papá, on the other hand, is the perfect person to ask.

Camilo finds his father talking with Tío Augustín and thinks maybe luck is on his side. His uncle and father generally feed on each other when it comes to storytelling-or explaining things-so he's actually more likely to get an actual answer if they're both there.

"Hey," he says, and whatever they were talking about before, both men break off their conversation to say hello.

"Que pasa, mijo?" Camilo's papá asks.

"Well," Camilo hesitates only for a moment before forging ahead. "I was just wondering, why would Bruno be afraid of Abuela?"

Both men freeze, staring at him, eyes wide, and Camilo realizes he may have somehow struck a nerve, though he's not sure how or why. It does occur to him, as they continue to stare instead of answering his question, to wonder whether either of them has ever been afraid of her.

Tío Augustín recovers first. "Did something-happen to make you think Bruno might be afraid of Abuela? Did he say something about being afraid of her?"

Camilo looked from his uncle to his father. "She wanted to talk to him, after dinner." Both men suddenly look worried. "Bruno look scared-well, terrified, really."

The two men exchange uneasy glances. "Disculpeme," Augustín excuses himself. Camilo watches him go, surprised, before turning back to his papá.

"He was afraid." Camilo wasn't guessing. "Why?"

Papá sighs. "Mijo, that's a complicated question, with no easy answer. Part of it, your Abuela always had very high expectations for your tío, expectations he had trouble living up to. You understand that your Abuela, for all that she loves you very much, can be-"

"Demanding?" Camilo ventures. His father nods, reluctantly.

"It was hard on your Tío Bruno. His gift-it was difficult at times. Caused problems."

"Like the wedding." His dad shrugs.

"He's also been gone ten years, mijo," he continues. "And when he left, well, let's just say the timing wasn't great."

"He left because of the vision about Mirabel."

"And your Abuela was angry. Disappointed. Afraid of what the future held for la familia, for the miracle, for the village. She-she saw it as a betrayal, of sorts."

"Do you think she's still angry?" Camilo asks. "Is that why he's scared, because he thinks she's still mad at him?"

"That's probably part of it, mijo." His father admits. "Your tío, he gets nervous easy anyway. He's a sensitive kind of guy. And he and Abuela have had their problems in the past." He looks at Camilo suddenly, as if seeing him for the first time, and grins uncomfortably. "But I'm sure they'll work through them, you know? You saw how happy she was to have him back."

Camilo nods, because he knows that's what he's supposed to do.

Somehow he's not entirely reassured.

"Mi amor," Julieta can tell something is wrong by the way her husband is all but wrapped around her, arms across her shoulders, body pressed against her back, his forehead pressed against the back of her own head as he speaks quietly into her ear, so quietly that no one else could possibly overhear him.

It frightens her. He's only done this a couple of times, and each time was to inform her of something terrible, something he wanted to be certain was for her ears only.

Bruno leaving was the last, most obvious time, and it had torn her world apart, but it wasn't the only time.

She remembered him coming to her as she finished breakfast about fourteen years ago, most of the family already at the table, tucking her firmly and safely against him as he pressed his lips to her ears and telling her that he had found Bruno at the bottom of the stairs in his room in the midst of a vision, screaming and convulsing and bleeding from a head wound.

Augustín had held the man as he jerked and spasmed and sobbed, trying to slow the bleeding as best he could, afraid to leave her brother alone while he was like that, afraid that he would hurt himself worse as the vision continued, or that he would hide himself away in spite of his injuries afterward, because Bruno had been known to do exactly that in the past.

It was only once the vision had finally receded, and Bruno had spent a good five minutes coughing and vomiting blood, that Julieta's husband had finally decided that his cuñado needed her help now, and that he was in no condition to disappear while Augustín went for her.

Julieta leans into her husband, taking comfort from his presence, and steels herself for the worst. Whether that means Bruno is gone again, or something else, she does not know, but her husband is a reassuring presence at her back even as he brings her bad news.

"Camilo came asking questions this morning about Bruno and Abuela," he murmurs. "Apparently she came to Bruno after dinner last night, asking to speak with him." Augustín hesitates for only a fraction of a second before adding, "Camilo wanted to know why Bruno would be afraid of Abuela."

Julieta's breath hitches. She has to remind herself to breathe. She hasn't seen her brother today, didn't think anything of it because he's been spending most of his time with the children, and Dolores and Mirabel are staying in the same house as he is, but now she worries that she should have been paying more attention to him. She hopes that in trying to give him his space she hasn't caused him to disappear a second time.

"I need to find him," she says, and feels her husband nod.

"Go. I'll take over here."

And he does. Julieta is grateful. Her husband is a wonderful, wonderful man who understands more about the Madrigal family and the relationships between each of its members than he will ever admit.

Mirabel wakes up groggy and feeling gross. She also feels like she hasn't slept. She yawns and looks over at the still form of Bruno and remembers exactly why she feels the way she does.

Her uncle, the man she promised to bring home, the man she thought had been welcomed back wholeheartedly and without reserve, had cried himself to sleep last night.

That wasn't completely correct.

Her uncle had held himself in for a solid two hours after everyone had settled for bed, waiting until he assumed both his nieces were fully asleep before have a complete and utter breakdown, sobbing into his pillow as if his heart had broken. He had cried until there had been nothing left, until at last he had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Mirabel had laid there in the darkness for a long time after Bruno's breath had finally evened out.

On Bruno's other side, Dolores was just beginning to stir. By the looks of things, Mirabel's prima had not slept any better than she had. They had both still been awake, then.

Mirabel looked down at the still form of her tío lying on his side, curled in on himself with his arms wrapped around his thin frame. He looks vulnerable, for all that he's a fifty-year-old adult, and Mirabel feels a sudden urge to protect him from anyone and anything that would do him harm.

She feels a bit silly at the thought of her protecting him, until she looks back over at Dolores, who looks as if she's going through about the same thing Mirabel is.

Of course, by keeping his secret, Dolores has been protecting him these past ten years. And she's still doing it, unless Mirabel is greatly mistaken.

Dolores feels her gaze and looks up, her expression determined. Something passes between the two of them, a pact of sorts, Mirabel thinks.

Bruno starts awake, his eyes wide and more than a little frightened as he looks around. A second later his brain catches up and he seems to recognize both his surroundings and his nieces, and he lets out a huff of air and sits up.

"Morning," Mirabel greets him. Her voice is froggy, but Bruno doesn't seem to notice.

Bruno yawns and takes a slightly more leisurely look around. Mirabel does as well, and realizes, based on the way the sun's coming in through the window, that they've slept away at least half the morning.

"Morning, Mira. Morning, Doli." His voice is a little hoarse, but neither girl mentions it.

"Morning, Tío." Dolores replies, stretching as she sits up.

"Bruno! Bruno!"

The sound of Mirabel's mother shouting shatters any peace the three might have had. Mirabel thinks she has never heard her mother sound so upset in her life.

Dolores's eyes are wide, she seems to recognize that particular tone of voice, though Mirabel has no idea how.

Bruno stops breathing.

A second later Mirabel's mamá is there, crying and laughing and throwing herself at her brother. To her surprise-and the girls'-Bruno scrambles back, twisting out of her embrace with a yelp, holding his hand up as if to defend himself from a physical attack as he backs himself into a corner.

"Don't!" He cries, stopping his sister in her tracks. "Please, Juli." he sounds a little bit broken as his eyes flicker from her to Dolores to Mirabel. Mirabel's mother stares at him, hurt in her eyes, and he drops his gaze to the floor. "I-I-I can't, Juli. I'm s-s-sorry, I just-I just-I can't-"

"Sorry."

Mirabel's mamá backs away from him, settling on her knees on the ground just out of reach. Her eyes are watery, as if she's trying not to cry, as she folds her hands in her lap.

Bruno relaxes only slightly. He's still breathing heavily, and he still looks like he's expecting Mirabel's mother to attack.

Mirabel's mamá frowns, and her gaze shifts to Mirabel and Dolores. "Will you excuse us, please?"

Mirabel and Dolores exchange a glance, then both turn to eye their uncle. As if sensing their gaze, he waves them off with a shaking hand.

"It's-It's okay," he tells them. "We'll be right out."

Bruno watches his sobrinas leave. He hates seeing them worry, hates even more that they're worried about him. When he's sure they're gone, his gaze drifts back down to the floor. Try as he might, he cannot make himself look up at his sister.

"Sorry," she says again, and he has no idea why she's apologizing. "Augustín said Mamá talked to you last night, and I hadn't seen you this morning, and I guess I overreacted."

"You thought I left again." It hurt to say it out loud, hurt that they thought he would leave again so easily-and he knew they all thought it. They all feared it. Even Mirabel. Especially Mirabel, perhaps.

But coward though he might have been, he had endured thirty-five years of the disappointment, shame, and sometimes hatred brought on by his gift. He had learned to live with it. He would not have left for his own sake-even he wasn't that selfish.

He would never have left if he had not been trying to protect Mirabel.

"Lo siento," she murmurs, remorse in every syllable.

"It's-ah-okay?" he tries. He's still exhausted from the night before, and in spite of having slept away half the morning.

"Are you okay?" she asks, and he flinches. "I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine."

Bruno shrugs. He does, but he also doesn't want to hear that his mother only wants what's best for the family. He knows that already.

He just wishes he didn't have to constantly sacrifice himself for that good.

"She wants to try to rebuild our relationship," he says. It's half the truth. "She's willing to let me do it on my terms."

Julieta smiles. "That's good, no?" she says. "I know you still love her."

He can't handle that, and turns his face away so she can't see the tears pricking at his eyes. He does still love her, for all that it would be easier if he didn't.

He wished he didn't still want so badly to make her proud.

"What else did she say?" his sister asks, and her voice is hushed, secretive. He wants to tell her the rest so badly.

But he doesn't want her to see how much it hurts.

He ends up not answering. After waiting a few minutes, Julieta straightens up.

"What do you need?" she asks, and the question nearly breaks him anyway. "I can leave, if you want. I've already made you uncomfortable."

There's guilt in her voice. Guilt that Bruno would do anything to erase.

"Can you stay?" he asks. "Just-just sit with me, like we used to?"

Julieta offers him a watery smile. Without a word she comes to sit next to him, their backs to the wall, legs sprawled out in front of them, their elbows barely brushing, just like when they were younger.

For the moment, it feels as if nothing has changed between them.

They sit there, side by side, neither uttering a word.

Julieta has missed her brother fiercely. It feels like it's been longer than ten years, and perhaps it has. Bruno had been distant from the family, the children excluded, for a long time even before he left. She can't remember the last time they just sat like this, with no need to try to put into words what they felt, but she's pretty sure it was before Mirabel was born. Maybe longer.

Her brother's head slides down to rest against her shoulder, and Julieta almost stops breathing. He's leaning against her now, rather than the wall, and Julieta is horrified at how little he weighs.

He's always been slight, always been small, and always been a terrible eater, but this is something else entirely. She looks down at him out of the side of her eye, noting how loose the ruana hangs off him, how thin the arm she can see is, how bony his shoulder is against her.

Everything she notices, everything she can see of her brother positively reeks of malnutrition.

Wherever he's been, he's been starving himself.

She doesn't know if it's on purpose, but she knows that even when he tries to make himself eat properly it doesn't always work out. Headaches, nausea, migraines, vomiting, lack of appetite-all these have been side effects of his gift over the years, some with admittedly more regularity than others. And forcing himself to eat anyway didn't always work. Sometimes it just made things worse.

Julieta forces herself to keep her expression neutral, her posture relaxed, because her brother is half-asleep on her shoulder and she wants to keep him close to her as long as possible.

And judging by the bags under his eyes, he looks like he could use the rest.

The front door flies open with a bang, startling them both. Bruno jerks awake with a cry, not entirely certain where he is.

"Where is he?"

Julieta stares at the pale visage of their sister; Pepa looks as if she had barged in expecting all her worst fears to be true, and now that they aren't, doesn't seem to know what to do with herself.

Julieta rubs her elbow against her brother's arm, hoping to calm him enough to keep him from bolting, and shoots a meaningful glance at the floor on his other side. She hopes this works; it has always been far too easy for something to go wrong between her siblings, no matter how much they originally intended to get along.

Pepa takes the hint and silently sits down on Bruno's other side. He tenses at first, but when she simply sits there, staring off into space as if she never had any other intention in showing up than to spend the day right there, Bruno starts to relax again.

The three of them haven't done this since before Luisa was born. Just sat, words unnecessary and perhaps even unwelcome, as they took comfort from simply being there with each other.

Eventually Bruno's head droops once more; this time he's leaning into Pepa, his head on her shoulder, and Julieta notices, really notices, how tired he looks. He always looked tired before, had always had trouble sleeping, but now he looks utterly exhausted.

Pepa looks at Julieta over their brother's tangled curls, concerned plainly written in her features, and Julieta guesses that she, too, has noticed how little Bruno weighs. Julieta's lips purse in acknowledgment, and the two come to a silent agreement; wherever he was, whatever he was doing before he came back, their brother is here now, and they're going to make sure he eats properly.

As if on cue, Bruno's stomach rumbles loudly. He raises his head, blinking slowly, then ducks his head in embarrassment or apology, one. Neither is necessary, but Julieta doesn't want to break this temporary truce by saying much.

"It's about lunchtime, isn't it?" Pepa breaks the silence, and her words sound loud to all three of them. They wince, then exchange nervous smiles.

"I'll find us some food," Julieta says, before they can scatter. "I'm sure Señora Garcia won't mind if we eat here."

She knows the woman won't. Elaina Garcia adores Bruno, always has. She and her husband both, before he passed, in spite of everything.

Julieta thinks that if anyone in the village might possibly have a valid reason to dislike her brother for his prophecies, it's Señora Garcia, but the woman always seemed to understand more than anyone, maybe even better than his own family, the heavy burden Bruno's gift placed upon him.

Pepa resists the urge to ask what happened between Bruno and their mamá. She figures Julieta already asked, and Bruno is slowly settling back against her, and she doesn't want to ruin things.

Maybe she's finally growing up, or maybe the last ten years without him has put some things into perspective, but Pepa really doesn't want make the same mistakes with her brother that she always does.

Maybe it's that he came back looking so maldito fragile. So broken.

His head drops to rest on her shoulder again, his wild curls tickling her neck and ear. He sighs softly as she presses her own head against the top of his.

Julieta returns too soon, or maybe not soon enough, judging by the way Bruno's stomach is grumbling again as she settles down in front of them, basket in hand, and starts handing out napkins. Pepa places hers in her lap, spreading it across her skirt. Beside her Bruno does the same, running rough fingers along the edges repeatedly as if to smooth out wrinkles visible only to her brother's eye.

Julieta sets an arepa con queso on each of their napkins before taking one for herself. They eat in silence, though it doesn't take long for either of them to notice that Bruno is only nibbling at the edge of his.

He catches them staring and blushes, ducking his head.

By the time Pepa and Julieta have started on their seconds, he's only managed about a third of his, and Pepa wonders if she's only imagining that he's starting to look a little bit sick.

Reluctantly he sets the arepa back on his napkin. "I-I'm sorry, it's-it's good, I just can't, I can't-" he takes a breath, and his sisters wait for him to figure out how to finish.

Bruno drops his gaze to study a spot on the floor. "I'm not-I'm not used to eating this much at once," he admits, shamefacedly, and Pepa stares at him in horror.

She's pretty sure Julieta is doing the same.

Their brother shrinks in on himself. "I'm sorry," he says, as if he actually needs to apologize, and Pepa wants to ask where he was all these years. She wants to know what happened to her brother after he left.

"It's okay," Julieta, somehow, manages to sound gentle and not upset at Bruno's revelation. "You want to just save it for later?"

He tucks the remainder of the arepa con queso into the pocket of his ruana as if it's the most normal thing in the world, and even Pepa thinks even Julieta's expression is starting to look strained.

Augustín eats lunch with Félix.

The man has already caught him up on everything he and Camilo discussed earlier, and by now they've both figured out where their wives are. Not much else to do, really, but wait, and keep an eye on the rest of the family.

"You ever afraid of her? Of Abuela?" Félix breaks the silence, because they're both sitting there worrying over something they can do nothing about.

"You asked for permission to marry her daughter too, didn't you?" Augustín retorts, and the other man laughs.

"Yeah, I remember." He shrugs easily. "Tell you the truth, for a long time I was more worried about getting Bruno's approval."

Augustín doesn't laugh. He remembers being terrified of the youngest Madrigal triplet, a man who could literally see the future, and wondering what he would do if Bruno decided Augustín wasn't good enough for his sister.

"How did you meet?"

Félix snorts. "Chasing a rat. Well, the cat was chasing a rat. Got out of the house, so I had to chase down the cat. The rat made a beeline straight for this lanky dude in a gray ruana-all four of us collided. Wasn't pretty. Anyway, he took the rat, and I took the cat, and we went our separate ways. Didn't even know who he was. You know, until that evening, when I showed up for dinner with la familia Madrigal and Pepa comes downstairs, dragging that same lanky dude downstairs with her, insisting he was going to meet me or else. He looked terrified of her, but then he took one look at me and nearly passed out."

Augustín chuckles.

"Anyway, it was awkward for a while, until I found him drunk in the kitchen one night about three months after we were married. He stands up as I come in, looks me up and down, head to toe, as if he can see into the inner recesses of my soul, nods, and says, 'I like you.' Leaves without another word."

"Sounds like Bruno."

Félix grins. "It was still awkward, but at least I knew he didn't think Pepa could do better." He shifts, rolls his shoulders, and settles into a more comfortable position. "So spill, how did you two meet?"

Augustín sobers. He should have known the question would come back around. "I found him unconscious and bleeding in an alley a few weeks after Julieta and I started courting," he says, preferring not to beat around the bush. Félix sobers as well. "Never did find out who did it to him. Helped him home, helped him raid the kitchen for Julieta's leftovers, caught him mid-vision when he tried to fall down the stairs of Casita."

"Mierda," Félix says.

Augustín shrugs. "You ever see him when he's having one? One of the accidental ones, not when he's calling one."

Félix shakes his head. "Haven't seen either." He hesitates for a moment before asking. "His eyes really glow?"

Augustín nods. "I only saw the one. From what I understand he got pretty good at holding them off until he could get to his room."

"Think he misses his gift?" Félix asks. It's a question they would never ask Bruno himself, or any of the rest of the family, but since it's just the two of them, men without gifts, men who married into the family, Félix asks it now.

"I don't know. I know it was hard for him," Augustín says, but the truth is, he doubts very much that Bruno Madrigal is sad to have lost his gift.

The Madrigal triplets have spent the entire day doing absolutely nothing. Julieta is still sitting against the wall, but Pepa now has her head in her sister's lap. Bruno's legs are sprawled across Julieta's, his body trailing off the opposite direction of Pepa's, his feet near her elbow.

For once, the three are content. Julieta looks down at her sister, who is half-asleep, wearing an uncharacteristically peaceful smile, then at her brother, who is staring at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind his head while his free hand traces patterns idly on the floor.

Pepa sighs softly. She's more relaxed than Julieta can remember seeing her in decades. She gently tugs a strand of her sister's hair, causing Pepa to giggle and lean her head back to look at her sister. Julieta grins back at her.

They are surprised by an odd, slightly raspy sound, and Pepa tenses until they realize where it's coming from.

Bruno is humming. It's mostly tuneless, but not entirely unpleasant. Julieta is not sure her brother even realizes he's doing it.

He stops tracing designs in the floor and reaches into his pocket, bringing out a piece of his leftover arepa from lunch. Julieta frowns when he pops it into his mouth, but doesn't say anything. Bruno is more relaxed than she can remember ever having seen him, and the three of them are having too nice a day to ruin it over something that can be addressed later.

Right now, she just wants to enjoy this. The Madrigal triplets have had far too few of these moments over the years, and she intends to make the most of it.

There will be plenty of time for uncomfortable conversations later.

"Should be about dinner time, shouldn't it?" Pepa asks. This time it's her stomach that rumbles. She's sitting up before Julieta can move, grinning down at the two of them. "I'll get dinner."

Bruno raises his head off the floor long enough to look at his sister but offers no comment. Pepa winks at him, twiddles her fingers in a wave, and disappears. Bruno stares after her for a moment before letting his head drop back to the floor.

Julieta pats him affectionately on the knees. He looks over at her briefly, but doesn't appear overly alarmed. If anything, he looks drowsy.

She smiles at him, and he returns the smile.

Pepa returns with a platter of tamales, and Bruno moves his legs off his sister's and sits up. Napkins come out again, and this time it's Pepa handing out food.

Bruno manages about a quarter of a tamale, and though neither Pepa nor Julieta say anything, he still hunches his shoulders and looks away.

Pepa steals the rest from him before he can apologize, raising her eyebrows in a defiant challenge as he watches her shove the rest in her mouth.

There is a tense moment when none of them are sure what's going to happen next.

Bruno snorts, which makes Pepa snort as well, leading to her nearly choking on stolen tamale. Julieta slaps her on the back heartily as she coughs, and Bruno grins.

Before long all three of them are laughing like madmen, tears in their eyes. Bruno is clutching at his ribs as if in pain, and Julieta can't catch her breath, and Pepa has accidentally snorted tamale up her nose and is both laughing and crying, and it feels amazing.

They're all on the floor, crying from laughter, tears flowing down their cheeks, when Mirabel and Dolores enter the room.

Julieta looks up to see looks of horror on the faces of both girls. Pepa also looks up, but it just makes her laugh (cry?) that much harder, and makes their children that much more worried.

Bruno is hyperventilating, holding his sides, curled in on himself, his entire body shaking with repressed laughter. He doesn't even notice that his sobrinas have arrived.

Julieta waves at them both, trying to get something reassuring out, but she's still having trouble breathing herself, and the words just don't seem to want to come out.

"Oh, god." Bruno manages. "Pepa-Pepa, recuerdas? Tu novio? Miguel? Recuerdas?"

Pepa shrieks. "Ay, no, Bruno!"

Julieta looks from one to the other. "Dime." When neither explains, she raises a stern eyebrow. "Bruno, tell me!"

"The chorizo. He sneezed." Bruno breaks off his story as a mad fit of giggling takes him over.

"And there was a piece of chorizo on the table." Pepa adds.

"And he was afraid we thought he sneezed it out." Bruno manages, once again, to get part of the story out before he starts giggling again.

"He ran." Pepa picks up the tale. "Knocked the chair over backwards and bolted. He was just gone."

"Remember though, at first? He said 'I didn't-that's not mine-I, please-' Worse than me on a bad day." Bruno insists. "His eyes were the size of dinner plates."

"That wasn't the worst of it." Pepa is trying, and failing, to get a grip on herself. "Tell her, Bruno."

"The rats." Bruno gasps. "I was showing him the rats before dinner. Sophia took a liking to him, so she kept trying to sneak him extra chorizo."

"The rat put it there!" Pepa howls.

Julieta laughs and shakes her head. The story is not nearly as funny as her siblings' reactions to it. Of course, nothing that has happened today to get them to this particular state has been indisputably hilarious. But Bruno's tired but also relaxed, and Pepa's managed to pull their brother out of a mood, and Julieta's just glad they're all together. And they could use the laughter.

It's been a good day for the Madrigal triplets. They deserve a good day now and again.

Mirabel and Dolores are still standing in the doorway, staring at the three of them as if they have all grown extra heads.

"Niñas," Julieta calls to them softly, and Pepa and Bruno both freeze, then turn and stare.

"Buenas tardes," Bruno greets them, sitting up with a groan. "Que pasa?"

Mirabel manages a puzzled smile as she looks from him to her mother to Pepa. "Just checking in. We hadn't seen you all day."

Dolores purses her lips. "Antonio is teaching your rats to jump through hoops." Bruno raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Camilo is encouraging it."

"So are Luisa and Isabella, for that matter." Mirabel lets herself get distracted.

"Huh," Bruno considers this for a moment. "They must like him. They never would do that for me."

Julieta and Pepa leave them, then. It's getting late, and they have husbands to round up and reassure. And Pepa, of course, has Antonio to get ready for bed.

Pepa grabs her brother and pulls him closer for a kiss on the cheek. It catches him off guard, but he's currently relaxed enough that it doesn't really bother him.

Julieta places a hand warmly on his shoulder, and only when he moves in does she pull him in for a hug. "Buenas noches," she whispers.

Bruno is still smiling as Dolores and Mirabel settle in for bed. He looks happier than he has since Mirabel met him. He also looks more relaxed. She's glad, and she thinks they needed this day, Bruno and her mother and her tía.

"Goodnight, Tío Bruno." Dolores says as she closes her eyes.

"Goodnight, Dolores," he replies automatically. "Goodnight, Mirabel."

"Goodnight, Tìo"

Author's note: They needed a break, I think. Been a rough couple of days. Not that everything's magically better now.

Thanks to all of you, for reading, and following, and reviewing, and everything. You guys are amazing!

Disclaimer: Disney's Encanto does not belong to me.