It had not taken long for her to realize that tio Bruno had not gone far. He had left the day Mirabel did not get her gift. It was a hectic, awful, sad day. There was so much crying, so much confusion. No one knew what to make of it, what to say, what to feel. It made Dolores' head spin. She wanted to comfort her cousin, to tell her a gift can be hurtful but there was so much chaos it pained her to get too close. She didn't know how to tell Mirabel she was there to listen without making the sentiment sound hurtful.

She heard Mirabel crying the whole night.

She monitored her carefully, searching for a question or a plea she knew how to answer. But none came. She knew Mirabel was eating, she would write, she even tried running away by Casita stopped her. At night, Dolores would hear her sneak from the nursery and stand where her door once was, as though she was waiting for it to return. Dolores never told anyone, adding it to the very small amount of secrets she was able to keep.

"I don't want to talk about it," Mirabel whispered one night. She didn't say it but Dolores knew she was talking to her, since Mirabel knew she was the only one who could hear it. "Can you tell them that? I don't want to feel sad about it. But know that's what everyone will ask me."

Dolores knew people would always talk about it. She knew what people in town were saying and wondering now would never go away but she knew she could not keep the things she heard away from her prima. Camilo, who had gotten his gift only a few weeks before, offered to transform into her and walk around town until people ran out of questions. He felt guilty using his gift for her. Agustin and Felix were the only ones she would talk to, but even they could not relate to her position.

When the family needed insight, they would turn to tio Bruno and Dolores found it odd that he had not been down to see Mirabel. Dolores quickly realized she had not seen him since the ceremony. She had been so focused on Mirabel she had not noticed how loud the sand had gotten in Bruno 's tower until his name entered her mind. The sand was falling faster now, the echoes had become more vast. It was hollow, no heartbeat.

No one could get in past the sand to look for him but Dolores was able to confirm he was not inside. The light left his door and they knew Bruno was gone and was not coming back.

Her tia would check in with her occasionally to ask about Bruno, whereas her mother's grief manifested itself in her refusing to talk about it. Dolores could still hear him, but couldn't tell where he was, the area unfamiliar. She heard him breathing, muttering, she assumed he had fled to the mountains. He was distant, but alive. No one knew exactly when or why he had left, but they assumed he had seen something that told him to leave, and with him took the bad luck he often provided. But Dolores did not fear his presence. She remembered the pain in his voice when he delivered her prophecy and knew he meant no harm.

But his impact remained. The sadness in Casita grew stronger and it seemed like it was never ending. The family continued the duties to the town, but the usual flair was gone. Then, on her sixth birthday, the one anniversary, the old Mirabel returned. She had spent the time in the nursery coloring and decorating the walls. Felix and Agustin had shown her that her family's wins were not her losses. And knew they were right because she did not love them any less because they did not have a gift so she knew they meant it when they said no one loved her any less. But Dolores could hear as Mirabel clenched her jaw when someone in town mentioned the ceremony, though over the years it got more subtle. Dolores admired Mirabel's courage, and knew that if her prima could endure all this, she could weather the things she was forced to hear. She too had to move forward.

Dolores knew she could only spend so much time wallowing on something she could not change. Knowing she was in love with Mariano and that he would never love her back was a hard pill to swallow, but she could not live in this moment forever. She could no longer linger in the hallway when he came to visit hoping to be noticed knowing nothing would come of it. She couldn't wait for his footsteps to approach Casita just so she could be the one to open the door for him. She couldn't stop loving him because he could never properly break her heart, and he would never stop being all the things she fell in love with. But she was only hurting herself by playing pretend and indulging these fantasies.

Dolores locked herself in her room, the only place it was possible for the noises to cease. She knew his voice could enter here if she wanted it to, and she would never not want it to, be she had to at least try distracting herself. In here, not only could she not hear the world it could not hear her. It was the only place she could yell and not sting her own ears. So she would scream. And then she would sing. She sang the secrets she collected and the ones she possessed. She sand them so they didn't swirl in her brain anymore. She couldn't forget them, but she didn't need to always carry them.

She would run from instrument to instrument seeing which one had the sound that best captured the moment. Some stories were a lively band and some were a somber solo. She would make the things she heard into music. The secrets shed their words and were now merely notes. This was her therapy, her escape within an escape. And it helped, but too often the thought would creep into her mind that Mariano was right downstairs falling more and more in love with Isabela.

Although her mother could not hear her composing, Pepa knew her daughter had a love for music. Agustin and Felix would often play together and her mother would see her humming along and looking present whereas she often looked preoccupied and distracted. So often her gift requited her to deliver bad news and force herself into conversations and moments she did not belong. Music was her happy place, a necessity Pepa knew the importance of all too well.

"Dolores, my love," her mother pulled aside one day. Usually when people wanted to speak with Dolores, they would let her know from anywhere, but the smallest gesture of actually seeking her out meant so much. "You may already know this but-."

"You're pregnant," finished Dolores, a small smile creeping on her face. "Two heartbeats, mornings sickness, your footsteps are heavier,-"

"Yes yes yes, there are many signs," her mother did not want to hear how heavy she was already. "But it is still so early, and I haven't even told your father-."

"Oh, I haven't told him either," squealed Dolores, proud of herself.

"But, I would love if you helped me tell him," Pepa finished gleefully. "With you, he knew from the weather and with Camilo, we found out together. But three is a very special number in the family, and I want to surprise him."

Dolores was often ruinig surprises so she was delighted to be asked to be apart of one.

"What can I do mama?"

"I want you to write a song, you're so good at communicating through song he'll know without any words," her mama gushed. "Do you think you can do it hija? If you-."

"It sounds so lovely," breathed Dolores. "The baby's first lullaby."

"Que hermosa pensamiento mi querida," a rainbow appeared over her mother and she glowed. A few snowflakes began to fall on her shoulders and she frantically brushed them away. "Ay, sorry its the hormones!"

"When do you want to tell him?"

"This Sunday, at dinner. Do you think that's so soon? I just know he'll get suspicious soon but if you wa-."

"I think I already have the song mama, I just need to figure out what to play it on,"

All week Dolores searched for the perfect messenger for her mother's song. It was soft and joyful, like a new baby. But what would be the best way to convey it?

The instruments in her room were always perfectly in tune and pristine. It sounded flawless no matter how she played it, but she needed something to give it that character. She had decide on the tiple, which her father had taught himself to play growing up. He had played in fro their mother on their first official date, at their wedding, and at every birthday. But no matter how many times she played it, it just wasn't right. Her father's tiple was old and had a knick in the side. The warping was so slight and the reverb was affected so minutely she knew only she could hear, but it held the sincerity her song needed to be complete.

She knew he'd be out for a while. She ran to the dining room to retrieve it to practice the song properly, She walked the house, hearing the sound bounce off the walls of casita like ti was whispering the news to the house, telling to get ready. The windows let in more sunlight as she walked around the hallway, humming as she strummed. She thought of what a baby in the house meant; it was loud with new chaos, there was more yelling, crying, more breaths to check on. But hearing a laugh for the first time, sensing it from the beginning and entering the world for the first time that was what the song was. The small gasp someone omits when holding the baby for the first time and the sign of comfort from someone who's heart had just added itself to the rhythm of the world. The way the-

"It's lovely," came a voice suddenly. Dolores nearly fell over, not used to a sound surprising her, and nearly crashed into its owner.

"Mariano," she whispered, the word sounded foreign to her here.

"That song, it's lovely," Mariano repeated with adoration. How had she not known he was here? How long had he been listening? "I feel like I've heard it before but I can quite name the tune…"

"I…. I wrote it," she whispered in spite of herself, brushing back a stray curl,

"Really?" he asked, clearly impressed. He smiled. "I thought you didn't play?"

"Huh?"

"Uh, when I came by for my first lesson, Agustin said he wanted to teach you but you wouldn't let him..."

How had he remembered? "Oh, I taught myself," she said, feeling at ease for some reason. "So I beat him to it I guess. Not on purpose, it just happened."

"It's your gift," he realized. The light hit the top of his head just then, creating a golden halo on his wavy hair. She remembered how it used to be much longer, she liked it this way. He was growing a beard now too, it made him look mysterious. Like a guardian angel.

"It's your gift," she replied without thinking, lost in a daydream she hadn't visited in awhile.

"Um, what?"

"Mu-music," she sputtered, snapping back to the moment. "You like music. Too. You're very good at it, the music. That I hear."

"Oh, yes thank you," he said and she could have sworn he blushed but she blamed it on the lighting. "I'm still an apprentice, helping with the beginner classes and private lessons but hopefully soon I'll have every child in town playing in the band."

"Your mama must be so proud," she breathed.

"Thank you," he said. "Maybe someday you can write us a song to play?"

"Sure," she chuckled, clearing her throat. "Maybe we could arrange something."

"Oh, that reminds me," he said. "I'm glad I ran into you."

"Really?"

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you,"

"Yes?"

"I'm planning to ask Isabela's parents for their blessing to ask for her hand in marriage," he said dreamily.

Chirp.

"A-already?" she gasped. Her mind started moving a million miles a minute and her words followed suit as they fled from her mouth. "I mean we're still so young, I say 'we' because Isabela and I are only a few months apart. So maybe when I speak for her or as her it sounds like me but it's not. But I think maybe it's a little soon, I mean why rush? And plan a wedding, Isabela helps with a lot of weddings, she does the flowers, but it's so much to plan and you need to focus on your apprenticeship. I think some of the kids in town are tone deaf, but I think you-."

"Oh, no no no, I'm sorry," he said, genuinely bothered by cutting her off. "I mean, in the future. I'll be speaking with them of my intentions. But I know your gift is your hearing and I thought I'd let you know."

"W-why would you need to let me know?" her heart was in her ears.

"Isabela told me how much secrets pain you," he replied. "Just in case you heard us talking and thought it was a secret and caused yourself pain by keeping it from Isabela."

"That's so kind of you… to let me know,"

"I was never good at keeping secrets," he admitted with a laugh. She already knew that. "And I know Isabela doesn't like surprises, so it's perfect when you think about it. I know you and Isabela are close, so I want to make sure I never make you keep anything from her."

He was so effortlessly noble. "And you... came to tell me personally," she said it like it was a question but it was a heartbreak. Dolores knew he was just being polite, but it small stride only those who really cared about her made, as silly as it seemed. "Thank you."

He was a good man. The family loved him, the town loved him, she...

...wanted him to be happy, more than anything. And he was so happy right now, telling her about his future. He deserved that happy future.

"Of course," he smiled. "Please excuse me, they're expecting me."

She watched him walk away, blissfully unaware the light left the room with him. She already knew her future. But she still didn't understand it.