Mariano wasn't sure he'd ever admit to it, but as he and his mother approached the Madrigal family home, he felt nervous in a way he'd never felt before. Not even when he was staring down Dolores's parents after being found on top of her kissing her senseless. No, this was a much worse feeling of impending doom that he wasn't entirely sure where it was coming from. He loved Dolores, his mother knew he loved Dolores, Pepa and Felix knew he loved Dolores, and as soon as they spoke to Senora Madrigal, she too would know he loved Dolores. What could possibly go wrong in this scenario? He didn't even want to think of it, lest the negative thoughts become reality.

He was surprised when it was Isabela who welcomed them at the door. Her smile seemed stretched too thin, like she was forcing it and he wondered why that would be. "Senora Guzman. Mariano." She greeted them and waved them inside. She seemed to give him a sideways look and he wondered if Dolores had told her what was happening. "Please, come in." she waved them towards the center of the courtyard, "I know you are here to meet with Abuela, so I will go fetch her for you." It was with that look that he knew she was privy to the whole situation just as he was.

The second she turned and trotted off to fetch her Abuela from the next room, the tiled floors of Casita rumbled in their strange ways and all but drug the two of them up the stairs right to the door to Dolores's bedroom. Blinking, he looked around and saw Senora Madrigal scowling, having seen Casita move her pawns from their positions on her game board. "Senora Guzman, Mariano." she greeted with faux warmth. "I apologize, sometimes Casita moves us around with a mind of its own." she chuckled, not seeming to notice the glance shared between mother and son.

"Well, in this case, I do believe Casita has moved us right where we ought to be." His mother spoke first, trying to mimic the chuckle that was supposed to be endearing. "I wished to speak with you today regarding the marriage contract we have been drafting."

"Ah, yes." Alma smiled sharply at them. "I was just informing Isabela this morning."

"Ah, well," his mother took a breath at the news, "I was hoping we could amend our plans." she started again, "You see, we had started making them without consulting the children and I have found that my son's affections lie with a different granddaughter of yours. Dolores, in fact." she waved a hand towards the door next to them, reinforcing her previous statement of being exactly where they needed to be.

"Excuse me?" Alma's raised eyebrow made them both swallow thickly. "Senora Guzman, we have already made our final agreements on the matter. You can see why I am unhappy with this… request."

"I do understand your upset Senora Madrigal, however I do believe this will be in the best interest of all parties. It includes the children in this decision."

Alma's eyes flicked over to Mariano at that. "I see…" she trailed off, "Mariano, will you be a dear and excuse us? Your mother and I have much to discuss." her anger was thinly veiled, and he wasn't quite sure which way this ensuing argument would go. Without waiting for an answer, she took his mother down the hall with her, disappearing out of sight quickly. Blinking after them he felt surprised that they had not made him move away from Dolores's door.

"Dolores?" he whispered into the doorway, leaning against the frame in a way he hoped was inconspicuous. "Querida?"

"Mariano, mi amor." her whispered sigh came back through.

"Querida, what is happening?"

"They're never going to come to an agreement." her voice sounded like tears, "Abuela isn't backing down, no matter what your mother says to her it doesn't matter one bit."

He clenched his jaw at that. He had been so hopeful today; was so certain he'd have his heart back in his arms by the end of the evening. There was a slight gasp from the other side, and he could tell she was surprised by something. "Abuela has already spread the word. She has the announcement being written for the paper and has invitations being printed." He could hear the pain in her voice, knew she was upset about the piece of information as well as the fact that she hadn't caught it. "What shall we do? What shall we do?" she wept. Instinctively he reached for the doorknob but was stopped by a vine tugging his wrist away.

"Abuela will know." Isabela whispered, putting herself between him and the direction he knew Senora Madrigal had gone in. "Trust me, she may not have known before, but she will now." Softly, she placed a palm on the door, "It will only make it more painful." When he met her eyes in confusion she elaborated, "Fighting Alma only to lose in the end. That's what always happens." Her voice held in it a pain that Mariano hadn't known it could. "It is a lesson we have all learned at one point or another." Even though her voice was full of sorrow, you wouldn't know it looking at her. Isabela's perfect posture stayed intact; her serene expression never once faltered.

"Isa?" a little voice asked, "Is Dolores coming out yet?" Antonio reached to grip his cousin's hand as he looked up at her pleadingly. "I haven't seen her in ages." he complained.

"Not yet Antonio." she squeezed his shoulder, "Not until Abuela says she can."

His pout was adorable, and it pulled at both of their hearts. "I haven't seen her since my candle ceremony." his eyes flickered to Mariano, a strange connection being formed in his eyes, "Not since I saw you follow her out of my party to keep her from being too lonely. You know when she has to give her ears a break from all the noise." He mimicked Dolores covering her ears while he finished. Isabela and Mariano blinked at Antonio and blinked at each other. It would seem they were not as discreet as they had thought.

Right at that moment the two women rounded the corner again, one looking quite pleased and the other looking quite forlorn. Mariano felt his heart drop when he realized the reason why Dolores had stopped responding. He had hoped she was concentrating on the conversation for a turn in their favor, but she was too consumed with grief for them to do anything more than weep. They had hoped in vain. Their fates, it would seem, were well and truly sealed.