I do not own Encanto.

Five weeks they kept her pregnancy a secret. After five weeks of planning accordingly, and making sure that Julieta was nearing the end of the first trimester that they would be ready to announce their little miracle.

Those weeks for Julieta, however, were filled with tension and worry, unable to think of anything but the little life nestled inside her, praying that they will survive the first weeks of life, as this trimester was a lot easier to miscarry.

She remembered, as a young woman, that the elders of town would advise her not to get too hopeful of a pregnancy until a certain point to avoid any heartache. But regardless of what they told her, her heart and love were immediate when she found out, despite the doubt and questions she had for herself. And it still lingered greatly after losing them.

Then, it was the same feeling when discovering she was pregnant again : the love and attachment. This time, it came more strongly and desperate, whether that was more on her part or the levels of the hormones rising.

Though she tried to keep an optimistic view with this one, it was hard. There were no guarantee-no promises that this one will make it, and it caused such ache in her beating organ because all she ever wanted was to have a little life cradled in her arms, safe and alive.

Those words were a mantra in her mind, repeating it like an everyday prayer. And she didn't know whether she liked or hated how the weeks passed slowly for them.

But at least it gave her time to mull over how to announce this surprise to the matriarch.

Julieta pulled off her apron, smoothing her wrinkled skirt and fixing her hair before searching out for her mother, the nervousness coiling inside her stomach.

Anxious thoughts whirled around her brain, apprehensive of what her mamá would think of. When she was pregnant with her first, she had been so elated, excited for her daughter to have a baby, but then they died and a spark of disappointment hid behind her eyes afterward, no longer expectant of her eldest daughter to produce a child.

But Julieta could have cared less in that point and time as she sobbed over that small body that would never draw their first life, or use those developing lungs to let out their first cry and grow up to be a child of her and Agustín's dreams.

So many despairing questions had plagued her mind when they died.

Did she not prioritize them enough? Did she choose work over her own child? Could she have been able to prevent it? It was these questions that made her conclude that maybe it was the cruel world that just gives and takes, gives and takes until you were left with nothing but a void that gaped in the most inner parts of any soul, cracking and crumbling from foreign emotions.

She had been lost in a hurricane of unfamiliar grief, and she knew that it would stay with her until the day she died. And she carried that with herself silently, wondering what sacrifices she'd make just to have this one yearning-even if it meant losing her gift.

Peeking around the corner, her insides fluttered restlessly when she spotted Abuela sweeping up petals from Isabela. Quietly, she inhaled and exhaled, mentally preparing for the upcoming conversation.

"It's simple, Julieta, just go talk to her," she muttered to herself, nibbling the bottom of her lip as she heard a small mumble of complaint when she noticed more flowers beside another large vase.

With newfound determination, Julieta walked to where her mother was. "Hola, mamá."

Immediately, Alma turned around to face her, eyebrows furrowing together. "Julieta, querida, aren't you supposed to be in town?" she asked instead of greeting. Julieta pursed her lips and nodded. "Sí, but I wanted to-"

"Can we talk about it later, Juli? I'm supposed to meet with one of the farmers for another field and you need to be in town to heal." Alma handed her the broom and patted her cheek and passing her-

"Mamá, I'm pregnant," she announced abruptly, wincing when her mother stiffened. Slowly, Alma turned around, surprise crossing her features. "You are?" she asked.

Julieta swallowed thickly and nodded. "Sí."

Her mother closed the distance between them and nodded towards her midsection. "How far along are you?"

She placed a hand on her middle, thumb caressing the firm abdomen, small and beginning to curve. "Around eleven weeks," she admitted. "We decided to keep it a secret until we passed the first trimester."

"I see," she murmured, fingers steepling underneath her chin.

She watched her mother think, and while it should've made her timid, it didn't. Julieta expected this-after not successfully carrying out a pregnancy to term for the past ten years, Alma had the tendency to critically think rather...pessimistically.

Of course, her mother wasn't a person without her manners, and despite the worry that glimmered in her mamá's eyes, she smiled and wrapped her arms around her. "Felicidades, querida, what a milagro, hmm?"

Julieta returned the favor, nodding into her shoulder. "Sí," she murmured. How else would any of them describe her pregnancy but the word, Miracle? There was none but that one word.

It wasn't like miracles were passed around willy-nilly, they were chosen carefully. Surely Julieta knew such a progress-the last one had been that baby and the world took them away as soon as any doubt of being a mother and caring for such a precious bundle bounced her mind.

She knew that her mother and maybe her other family members had doubts-hesitant to celebrate a carefully, created heartbeat that could possibly be silenced. And even if they never showed, she knew they thought of it.

But Julieta couldn't allow the qualms to affect her. She would handle other people's doubts and reluctance in this baby, and she would not fall into the depths of questioning-she would be patient, vigilant, and thankful she got another chance.

Alma pulled back, her hands on Julieta's shoulder, grinning softly. "Looks like we'll need more bebé clothes and a celebration dinner?"

Julieta curled the corner of her lips, though it didn't meet her eyes. "Por supuesto."

Her mother squeezed her shoulders comfortingly and nodded firmly. "I will go into town to inform the tailors to make more baby clothes, in the meantime-" she paused and Julieta felt her lungs constrict painfully. "Be careful, okay, mija?"

She swallowed thickly but nodded in reply.

Her mother leaned in to lightly kiss her cheek before turning away from her and walking towards the doors, leaving Julieta gripping the broom and unshed tears glistening in her hazel eyes.

Deep inside her, she had a vague feeling that her mother would not ask for more baby clothing.

Agustín gasped happily when Isabela placed a flower crown on his head, grinning when she hummed approvingly.

"It goes with your suit," the six-year-old said simply, adding tiny, blue buds around the crown. He chuckled lightly and allowed his niece to continue prodding more vines and plants into his flower crown.

Luisa sat in his lap, tongue out as she tried to make a flower crown like her older sister.

It was a rare occurrence when he had time to spend it with his nieces, and even though they had a father, he felt like one whenever Bruno wasn't present. It was a nice feeling-to act like one sometimes.

Since they found out about Julieta's pregnancy, they respectively decided that he would be the one to break the news to their nieces while she talked to her mother about it.

He knew she was nervous, and he sorely wished he could take all the anxieties away from her-hell, it was not an easy feat to announce something to a family matriarch, and while he wanted to be with her when she revealed it, Julieta remained firm that she should do it by herself.

Meanwhile, Agustín had been given the task to break it to their nieces, which was far easier than what his wife was doing.

"I did it!" Luisa exclaimed, drawing Agustín from his thoughts. His youngest niece held up a ragged but kempt-looking crown. It wasn't the best but he valued the effort Luisa tried on it.

Isabela clapped excitedly and Luisa handed it to her oldest sister. "Here, I made it for you!" She stretched her arms to place it on her head and Isa balanced it on with a wide grin, looking at him.

"What do you think?"

"Muy bonito," Agustín complimented, returning the grin back to her. "Do you think you can make a flower crown for tía Julieta?"

Isabela nodded enthusiastically and started conjuring some flowers, plucking them by the stem and then twisting them around to create another base for the crown. He hummed appreciatively and cocked his head to the side, an easing smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps make it smaller?"

Isabela stopped in her tracks and regarded him with furrowed brows. "But tía's head isn't small," she said, confused.

"No, but the bebé's is and I think we would want them to wear your wonderful flower crowns, hmm?"

The young girl blinked, words registering in her mind. There was no doubt that his nieces were hugely smart, despite the innocence that they still held, but he knew that she would understand the context, even if it took a few minutes to realize it.

Finally, her eyes widened like saucers.

"Tía has a bebé in her tummy?"

He chuckled and nodded. "Indeed she does!" he chirped. Luisa gasped out loud, looking up with a wide grin and eyes sparkling. "We're going to have another prima?!"

Isabela remained silent, as if she was mulling it over.

Agustín shrugged. "It could be a primo," he mused, briefly picturing a baby boy with wild curls like Julieta's and his eyes.

His youngest niece huffed dramatically, the crown of her head hitting his chest. "I think it's a girl," she stated firmly, a serious look on her face that made his heart melt a bit.

"Ay, we'll see what they are when they're born and you two-" he tapped Luisa's nose, eliciting a tiny giggle from her mouth. "Will be the first to know, how about that, mijas?"

The smile widened and she bobbed her head up and down. "Sí!"

When he noticed the lack of a particular voice, he craned his neck towards Isabela, who was still quiet from the news. Her face was contorted with troubledness, brows knitted together and arms wrapped around her frame, like she was self-soothing herself.

Her feet scuffled across the dirt and he hid his concern when Isabela's facial expression twisted into dejection and small shoulders shook slightly.

"Isabela?"

She flinched in reply, and this time, he allowed his worry to break through his façade. He gently hoisted Luisa off his lap to the side, letting the young girl run off to a nearby hill before standing up with a grunt. Wordlessly, he approached his oldest sobrina and knelt right in front of her.

There was no response or reaction when he planted his slender hands on her shoulders, firm and comforting. Agustín tilted his head to the side to see his niece's cheeks tracked with tears and despair hidden behind her beautiful brown eyes, and there was a protective stir that ignited within him.

"Oh, querida," he murmured softly, delicately reaching out to thumb the stray tear that started to run down her face. "Why the glum face on that beautiful face, hmm?"

Isabela sniffled loudly and exhaled unsteadily, hands bunching up her dress as a small hiccup escaped her lips. He was patient, as usual, gently stroking circles on her shoulders and allowing her to collect her thoughts.

Finally, her tiny voice broke through the silence. "Does this mean I can't go to tía Julieta anymore?"

Ah, so that was the question.

They had been expecting this type of question from their nieces and both talked steadily about it, acknowledging that Isa and Lu considered their tía Julieta as a mother figure. And both were determined that nothing would change. Just because they were having a child from their DNA did not mean that they would abandon the ones they considered their own.

It had left a dull throb in his heart, though, how genuine the query was.

He just hoped that their nieces would understand as much as they can, but even then, they would remind them as many times as needed that they would not be tossed aside.

Agustín brushed aside a strand of hair from the girl's face. "Why do you think you can't go to her anymore, mija?"

Isabela bit her lip, eyes glassy. "Because she has a baby to care and that means she won't have time anymore."

His face has faltered sadly and he shook his head in reply. "Oh, Isabela, no, no," he assured delicately. "Just because we're having bebé never means that we'll be too busy for you."

He plopped himself onto the soft soil and drew his eldest niece into a gentle hug, allowing Isabela to rest her head against his shoulder.

"There's no need to be scared," Agustín murmured tenderly, running his thin fingers through her silky hair and feeling dampness on the fabrics of his suit. "We will always have time for our pequeña sobrinas."

He heard a sharp draw of a shaky inhale.

"¿Lo prometes?" she asked in a near-whisper, and Agustín could feel his throat tighten.

There was always something so special about promises, especially in children; how much they believed that they would never be broken or how lasting they can be. And he had always prided himself about keeping promises, fulfilling them, and ensuring that none of them broke, regardless of the circumstances.

All of his promises stayed.

He promised his eternal love for his wife at their wedding. He promised dedication towards their family. He promised that he would protect them, to hold and love with his whole heart and show the twinkling orbs that streaked across their sky.

That much he had vowed and kept, until he found himself burying a grave for the child he would never know.

And as he poured dirt over the tiny casket, Agustín had realized that making promises was a fragile and delicate case.

He wasn't able to look in the eyes of his dead child and say sorry for not keeping the promise, nor go back in time and undo the pledge, but perhaps that's what made promises so frail and sensitive.

Certainly, he had learned that from his unborn baby-the fractured promise haunting and guilt weighing his shoulders, even after all those years. Life goes on, even after the shattered promises people give.

Life goes on.

Promises; broken or preserved- new or old, do not.

They stay until the ends of time.

Just like the one he was going to make with his sweet little sobrina.

"Lo prometo."

"Oh, amor!"

Agustín jiggled their bedroom door open, holding the small flower crown behind his back and grinning widely when he saw Julieta's back facing him but her neck twisting to look at him with an arched eyebrow.

There was a tense look on her face, but it softened considerably.

"I got something for you," he exclaimed, rounding the bed and settling next to her, the mattress shifting from their weight. Slowly, he pulled out the tiny flower crown, cradling it in both hands.

"Isa made it for the bebé!"

Julieta eyed it, features melting into one of fondness. She took it from his hands, thumbing over the soft petals. Their niece has been known to make one of the most beautiful flowers she can conjure up, testing her skills and limits until the casita was overflowing with grown plants and flores by the mile.

Surely she tried very hard to make such gorgeous flowers.

"Es hermoso," Julieta murmured before placing it on her lap and regarding him with a small smile. "I see that everything went well?"

Agustín hummed and leaned closer, wrapping an arm around her frame. "For the most part," he responded. "Isa was worried that you wouldn't have time for her or Luisa anymore."

Julieta grimaced and downcast her gaze towards the flowering crest.

"I'll always have time for mi flor and leona," she said softly, sighing as she slumped against her husband.

"And we will continue to remind them that," Agustín stated firmly, earning a small affirming hum from her. "Speaking of which, your face says it all, mi corazón, what happened?"

She shut her eyes, lips quirking downwards.

"As well as you expect," she said quietly.

"That bad?"

Julieta shook her head and reopened to look straight into her husband's brown irises, tears gathering into her eyeballs. "It wasn't bad, she just-I..." she shook her head bit her lip. "I feel- I know she doesn't think this pregnancy will last."

She exhaled shakily, instinctively putting a hand onto her stomach, as if she was trying to assure herself that they were still there. The heart within her constricted, like someone had squeezed it mercilessly and left it to bleed out.

Truth be told, she didn't exactly blame her madre for being...hesitant. Nonetheless, it still hurt.

Agustín leaned closer until they were touching foreheads, a glint of softness in his eyes. "Do you believe that as well?"

The inquiry made her stomach recoil. Did she? Certainly, she should've known the answer. Despite having tried to refute the way that her mother or everyone else felt, the small intrusive thoughts prodded her mind: fear, reluctance, fright, and dread.

But she couldn't do that to herself, or their unborn child.

Not again, not again.

She bit on the bottom of her lip, a few teardrops trailing down her cheeks. "I've already done that with our last bebé, and look at what's become of them," she whispered harshly. "It left us childless; it left our child six feet underground where they should have been laying in our arms but instead laying in a casket."

There was a shake of her head as she leaned back, grief piercing her soul again. "I can't and I won't think like that again, Agustín, I'm not going to doubt being a mother, and I'm not going to fear that this one could-could possibly leave us too- I refuse to-"

A sob tore through her lungs and she felt strong, thin arms wrap around her form, pulling her close as her vision began to blur from the copious amounts of liquid that collected inside her eyes, chest heaving.

"Breathe, querida, breathe," he ordered calmly, petting her hair soothingly.

"No quiero perder a mi bebé," Julieta cried out, burying her face into his shoulder. "Not again-not again-"

He shushed her softly, rubbing up and down her spine as Julieta's form was wracked with ragged cries.

Maybe she couldn't handle how people of the town looked at her with pity, or how her mother was cautious and expecting another loss, or the terror that she may not be able to carry this child to full term, but Julieta had to remind herself to hope and have faith that she'll be able to experience the many firsts with this child.

She just had to believe... even though she wanted to doubt and question it; even though it was hard to, especially after losing a child.

For all intents and purposes, she was trying to stay positive.

Minutes passed as Agustín rocked their forms back and forth, her sobs dying down to shaky and sharp gasps of inhales and exhales. So many emotions coursed through her entire body and were released like rushing waters in streams.

It felt good, though, to admit and release them to her lover-to the one who understood her so greatly. He had always been patient and devoted to her, willing to listen to anything she talked of and becoming the shoulder to cry on.

He became the support in her life.

"Te amo, mi corazón," Julieta heard Agustín whisper in the structure of her ear. "I know you're trying to remain optimistic, and I see that, but it's okay to be afraid, amor, it's okay," he reassured.

She reclined back, lips wobbling as she looked at her husband, his face calm but the rings of his eyes were red like hers. "How?" she asked desperately. "I lost them because I was frightened and scared and-and doubted- how can you be so sure we won't lose this one as we did with our last bebé?"

He reached out, his hands cupping underneath her chin and wiping away the stray tear that dribbled to the outline of her face.

"I don't," Agustín admitted soberly. "But I know you didn't lose them because you doubted, querida."

He took a large breath and continued. "We have no control of our futures, what happens and what's to come, but it's okay to be afraid and happy-we're humans and that's what we do."

There was a small tilt of his head, the corners of his lips twitching. "Behind your doubt is love, Juli," he said, caressing her cheek. "You loved them and you love this one too, but it still doesn't change the course of our future. What happens...happens, no matter how hard we try to suppress the unwanted emotions and ones we want."

Julieta hiccupped, breaking free from his delicate grasp and burying her face into his shoulder, fingers curling into his suit. "I don't want to lose another," she repeated, cracking from anguish.

Vaguely, she felt the tender fingers run across her scalp, and a quiet voice: "Lo sé."

There was a tiny gesture within her compelling soul that this would be the last chance for her to be a mother, and to be honest, she didn't think she could bear another heartbreak if this one didn't make it.

But no matter what happens, regardless of what emotion she chose-happy or scared- anything could happen. And Julieta knew that she couldn't miss this blessing-this second miracle.

She chose hope this time.

i cannot explain how many times i rewrote this chapter-there were some scenes where it felt to abrupt but hell i had certain problems with a certain family matriarch to focus on XD

also thank you to my dear Wikluk for listening to me rant about this difficult grandmother and projecting crackheaded ideas and i hope you enjoyed this chapter!