Along with understanding why Héctor hated violence, Imelda now also understood why he hated being alone. She wasn't truly alone: it was impossible to be by yourself in Santa Cecilia as crowded as it was, but it seemed like after her attack on Ernesto, no one wanted her around.
Everyone veered out of her way, avoided her eyes, or ignored her completely. Her friends glared at her, especially the ones who'd been Ernesto's novias a few weeks or months ago. Even Ceci had started to cross her arms, frown, and shake her head whenever the two crossed paths.
Her brothers stayed out of her way as well, spending all day in their room doing something or finding more and more excuses to get away from the hacienda and not return until after sunset.
Her parents gave her no comfort, either: Papá didn't allow her to go outside unless she had a specific reason, and Mamá coldly reminded her of the rules of her punishment and kept telling her to apologize to Ernesto, as if that would ever happen, as if she would ever feel remorse for what she did.
She wished she knew where Héctor was, so she could talk to him, apologize to him instead of Ernesto, let him know she's sorry for breaking her promise to him without a second thought and letting her hatred get the best of her again. But she hadn't seen him since he pushed her off of Ernesto and helped get him home, the tears in Héctor's eyes breaking her heart immensely.
Imelda had tried going to Héctor's mansion to see if Isla or Renaldo would force Héctor to talk to her, but every time she comes to the door, they tell her the same things: "Héctor's busy right now." "Héctor doesn't want to see you."
She had seen people have breakdowns and go into a deep state of sadness when mourning someone they love. Héctor for sure wasn't dead, she knew that for a fact at least, but she knew that this was how those people must feel: surrounded by emptiness and longing for something they had no control over.
Imelda scolded herself daily. How could she have acted so impulsively, broken the deal that was keeping them together behind everything else? How could she have possibly that beating up Ernesto would make Héctor happier, make their relationship stronger when it was already perfect in the first place? Héctor was right: violence does cause problems. And Imelda's heart twisted as she thought of how she could've taken his advice more seriously.
The time she saw how it had truly hurt him was when their teacher had forced both of them, along with Imelda's parents, to come to school an hour early to discuss what had happened.
And when she saw his pale face, eyes flashing with sadness and barely contained rage, hands gripping the teacher's desk tightly, his whole body trembling as he spoke to her with an eerily whispery voice that looked like it hurt, she truly realized what she'd done, how much it had changed him.
And she also realized with a pang of guilt that he'd never, ever, act the same way around her again.