Oh, how grateful she was that today wasn't nearly as busy as the day before.

Any logical person would use this as an opportunity to get more meaningful rest, and to Dolores, that meant finally getting the time to read that book.

Right after dinner, she took no time to excuse herself and head to her room. Depending on certain circumstances, her day could still very much be active, so she wanted to get as much reading in as possible. Her book had been neglected far long enough.

Her door stayed open just a crack, just enough to let through soft light, and of course, sounds. It was more likely that she would look 'available' to anyone passing by, but she didn't care; she needed to be aware of the surroundings anyway.

She got comfortable in a decorated little seating area near her bed, easing into the big soft pillows. Maybe it was too early, being right after dinner and all that, but she found herself in her nightgown and surrounded herself with soft, tranquil sounds. No environment was better suited for reading than pyjamas and peace, honestly.

Right from the night before, she quickly caught on to the paragraph she struggled to read without dozing off. Even if this part of the book was pretty doze-worthy, she'd have a much better chance of getting past this part and finally onto the good stuff.

She tried. For the most part, her soothing environment and remaining energy made it so this part was easy to get through, at least in comparison to the day before. For a moment, she had hope that this lengthy paragraph wouldn't drag on for so long, that she could get past it without distraction.

...If only, of course, this part wasn't so boring. Ugh. Dolores continuously looked up from her book at the door, unable to keep her attention fully on the words in front of her. So that mission failed. Maybe… maybe there was a way to make the pages easier to digest? A way she could get through the book without necessarily having to read it all in one sitting.

The distant dialect of scribbling notes to paper got her answer. Ah, that would work.

She could certainly multitask. Plus, listening in would give her a better idea of if he decides to move at all. She doubted he had any food left, and if the rats wouldn't bring it to him, then it would only be so long until he had to finally leave that room…

Until the inevitable, it seemed he was back to writing. She hoped it was for the novela – she was on the edge of her seat! She just had to know what happened next! He seemed to pick up writing multiple times that day, even giving frustrated grunts whenever he would stop moving his pen, but she trusted it was all part of the creative process. For his novelas, she could wait.

Truth be told, she was fascinated with Tío's writing. Sure, the execution of his novelas could sound amusing from an outside perspective, but if you paid attention? It was genius writing, with compelling twists and cliffhangers to keep the viewers (or listeners) hooked on the story and characters.

It was so much more interesting than her current book, which was at an agonizing slow beat in the middle. Of course, however, she was never going to get past this part if she didn't even try. She'd keep an ear out for Bruno's activity, but it was time for her book. No spying, no missions, just book.

Hours seemed to pass as she finally dedicated time to read past the middle. Now, she found herself frustrated with something else: the main character's decisions, rather than lack thereof (talk to him, loca! He's just in reach!) It almost didn't feel worth it, reading pages and pages just to reach another block in the road, for how late it was…

Wait. Dolores gazed up from her book, meeting the sight of a little clock on her desk. Dios, it was late. Most of her family would be asleep by now, but if she remembered correctly, this is around the time Tío Bruno leaves the walls for the night, which means…

Her head tilted to the direction of the wall, focusing on the soft sounds; steps grazing old wooden boards, creaking, sucking in a breath. Good, she caught him just in time.

He wouldn't be able to hear her, certainly not from different levels of the house – but it was better to be safe than sorry. Dolores softly shut her book (lucky to have already placed the bookmark), leaving it on her chair instead of going through the trouble of putting it away. Even if all goes well, she could afford to take time later before turning in. If she was still awake by then.

Soft steps already trained to be quiet came to her advantage, as the girl carefully made her way out of the room. The door being open also helped, not making as much noise as it might on normal occasions. It still creaked a little, which made her cringe – she doubted it was much noise to the average person, though.

With that, she tiptoed out of her room, looking beyond the balcony for any sight of the scraggly old man. There was no sight but rather sound, which is all she needed. Dolores tried to carry herself as lightly as possible across the second floor and down the stairs, ultimately only making enough noise for herself to hear. She hoped.

While Bruno could out-sneak her any day of the week, she was doing a pretty decent job of sneaking herself. Not that she purposely used this talent often; but it was useful to have.

The girl waited until she knew for sure he was in the kitchen to make the final few steps towards its walls. There, she stood back against the tiled wall and hidden from view, trying to cover any hints of her heavy breathing. If he tried to leave the kitchen just like that, he would be caught red-handed.

He was trapped.

"Dolores-!"

It came out in a whispered shout, obviously having caught him by surprise. He stumbled backwards into the kitchen, quickly hiding on the other side of the wall. "What a surprise?" His voice was strained, still struggling to catch himself and stand. "Didn't expect to see you here – uh, what are you doing here?"

If she could see his face, it wouldn't help to convince her that he was attempting casual conversation. He was nervous; his voice said enough. She could hear his feet still shuffling, seemingly struggling to stand upright with both of them. She could question that later.

"Why are you hiding?" The whisper barely strayed from her usual tone, straight to the point with her question. She didn't have time to beat around the bush, especially out in the open like this. Besides, that was her chance! She couldn't waste it on casual talk, not now.

"I swear I'm fine." This was so obviously a lie. "I'm just- trying to fight off the rest of the cold! You already helped me the first few days, and headaches, you know?" He chuckled a little, trying to find humour in the situation as he always did. "I can take care of myself, niña."

Oh, he was a horrible liar. Maybe this would be enough to sway her away in the past, but she was sixteen years old now. She knew he was lying through the pain. In a way, she didn't expect anything less of him, but he was still hiding something he would usually tell her about no problem.

She could hear his breathing, though - he was nervous, shifting his leg uncomfortably, trying so hard to stifle any obvious movements and yet actively berating himself for the lie. Something was wrong, yet he tried his damndest to hide it from her. Why?

Maybe she needed to be tougher. There was nothing she could make him do, but she could reach out. "Tío," she started, her voice loving but slightly louder, "you can't keep hiding away in your room."

"I can and I will," he quickly rejected, as if the line had been rehearsed. "I need to work on the telenovela after all. I mean, Adella just proposed to Josephine, I can't leave it at that!-"

"Tío, this is serious." As much as she loved the telenovela and needed to know what would happen next – she didn't have time for games. Besides, what's the use in continuing production if he could barely stand out of his chair all day?

She sighed, gathering her words before she could demand anything of him. That wasn't what he needed right now. "You're hurt." She heard him gasp softly. "I can help you, only if you tell me what's wrong. Please, tell me Tío."

This is where she seemed to get him. He stopped, humming a little, moving the fabric of his ruana. He had to agree, right? There was no reason for him to realistically refuse her help unless it truly wasn't serious. Which she doubted by now.

Then he clicked his tongue, seemingly finding his last-minute solution out of this. "Ah, but you see-" he spoke, confidently in a loud whisper, "if you want to help, you're gonna have to look at me."

Oh.

Mierda.

He got her there.

They had this thing – Dolores couldn't see him face to face, didn't want to see him. The last time she had done so was years ago, and in the mind of a child who missed their uncle, she wanted to bring him home, truly home. He had looked so ill already, and this was when she was twelve. Now? She already had to carry the burden of hearing his every movement, knowing he was alive and well and living in the house without being able to say anything.

He was actively sick now, injured, even. If she saw him – it didn't matter how strong she was, she couldn't keep from getting the help he needed, the real help from his sister. At the very least she would say something. It would scare him… she couldn't risk it.

She couldn't. They had to stay apart for, well, whatever reason her Tío was hiding in the first place. Maybe she would never say it, still deadly curious and trying to piece together the information on her own – but she trusted his judgment. For whatever reason he left and started hiding in Casita's walls, she trusted it was for the good of the family.

They had both been silent for a while, forlorn understanding reaching them both. It wasn't… ideal in the slightest. They wanted to interact normally like they were a family, not bound by these long and complicated walls. But they respected each other's boundaries, and if that meant walls to work around, then they would work around those walls. For each other.

This would stay pondering in her mind, keeping her silent for a while. She said nothing; she would say nothing until she possibly knew how to work her way out of this one.

It seemed Bruno had other plans, though. His foot shuffled again, and after a pained grunt escaped, he sighed. "I wish there was more you could do but- this is something I'm gonna have to fix on my own." He barely bothered to whisper, with how quiet his voice was just now. Even he knew how hard this was on her.

"I'm sorry, mija."

Dolores wanted to slump down onto the floor right now and curl up in shame. She can try all she wants, but with this boundary… it was ultimately her Tío's decision if he wanted direct help. Unless she wanted to break the illusion and look the sad, lonely man in the eyes, there wasn't much she could do for him. She wanted to help… but he was scared.

The last thing she wanted to do was scare him even more than he already was, so she had to let him go.

"Okay, just…" she struggled, trying to offer whatever she still could, "promise me you'll eat enough."

"You have my word."

The energy around them almost instantly calmed. It wasn't much, the request to eat enough; but if nothing else, the least she could do is encourage him to stay healthy… er.

His fingers drummed the surface of the tiled wall a bit before abruptly stopping. "I, uh, have to get back to my room first."

"Sí, lo siento." She only realized now that revelling in the calmed presence of her estranged uncle held him back from leaving (without being seen, at least). Besides, it was high time for her to go back to her room, way too late to dwell on this longer.

Right before she heard him sneak back into one of his hidden passageways, he knocked on some wood surface, albeit quieter than he usually would. They just spoke, and he still wanted to stay quiet and hidden. She couldn't blame him exactly; even if it tugged at her heart to imagine this had, in fact, scared him.

What surprised her the most is the soft "Buenas Noches" that escaped his chest before he took the last few steps back into his hideaway. Her hand rested over her heart, warmed by the good wish, but pained she couldn't return it in person.

Rendering this meeting finished, the girl sped down the halls as quietly as possible, never daring to look back at her Tío's form. Dios, she hoped he would be alright.

Well, that plan was a bust.

She should've known, she couldn't help him directly even if she wanted to; due to her own boundaries, no less. Her best intentions could be had but… ay! Why was this all so difficult! Why did her Tío have to hide an illness from the only person that was available enough and willing to help him? Why did she think trapping him in the kitchen would get an answer out of him?!

Hugging tight onto a small pillow, Dolores allowed her frustrations to fester without any real way to express them. It was the middle of the night, for Dios' sake, and here she was: sitting on her bed, angry at a sick old man. It was probably irrational… but even alone in the confines of her room, she was allowed to feel angry sometimes, damn it!

She was frustrated but… tired. This wasn't something she should dwell on for too much longer if she hoped to get any sleep.

Dolores just had to accept in her mind that Tío Bruno was a very stubborn man. He could navigate the house and take care of himself just fine, but he could only go so far before she needed to intervene. Maybe she didn't know any better, or maybe he didn't know any better, but Dolores had a feeling they both knew how much he needed the help.

Just… ugh. Why couldn't he just ask her to bring supplies to heal him or something? It's not like it would be an unusual request; he asks for extra food all the time! If he just wanted to hide-

Wait.

Bringing supplies.

That was a genius idea.

Scrambling out of her bed, Dolores quickly picked up a pen and notepad, jotting down ideas as fast as they came to her head. Hovered around her soft night light, it took no time to make a short list of supplies he might need to heal on his own. He didn't want direct help? No problem. It didn't mean she still couldn't give him stuff.

Most of her 'notes' and ideas were messy and could barely be considered notes at all, but it didn't matter. What did matter was getting an extended but rather realistic list of everything she wanted to give and how she was going to retrieve these items. It would be difficult, trying to slip all this under her family's noses… but she was determined. For Tío.

Sometimes she wished she had someone to help her carry this burden, just anyone she could talk to about it – but it wasn't the end of the world, to carry one more.

Her plan, at the current time, was still a little flawed; she would have to know at least the area of injury. It'd be worse to be counterproductive, after all. She heavily doubted a small gathering of the general 'get well soon' supplies would do any harm, though. Maybe she could top it off with some extra little gifts - oh yes, this would be perfect, he'd never feel like hiding his illnesses from her again!

That was probably a stretch, knowing how he could be, but this gathering of gifts should do plenty to show he didn't have to be afraid of her help, even with more serious injuries. Gathering a big basket of supplies like this wouldn't be something she could afford to do often, but she could still help, and she needed her stubborn uncle to understand that.

Most of all, she just hoped that he would appreciate the offering. No, she knew he would. There's no way he wouldn't.

Of course, again, none of this could be complete until she knew what that injury even was. She made a grave mistake earlier by not asking more specific questions, and in turn, would have to do more heavily focused 'spying'. If her Tío decided to be a smart alec and stay quiet all day again, it would make her job so much harder, but somehow she had hoped this information would come to her easier than before.

That was a mission for tomorrow. Until then, she had to get some sleep.

Hiding this notebook under her reading book, she would leave the refining of her list for a later date. That, and reading, and collecting items. Maybe she didn't ultimately need to do any of this, but hey, even a Madrigal needs ridiculous hobbies to take up what time wasn't spent helping the town, collecting their rumours, carrying more burdens than just one's own, looking for someone to genuinely talk to but coming up empty-handed…

Or something like that. Dolores was grateful for the amount of free time she had between her tasks and chores, leaving her enough time for, well, that entire plan she just came up with. Sometimes she just wishes it wasn't up to her.

She wished she could say sleeping came easier to her after all that, but it was only as easy as a young child trying to sleep on Christmas Eve. Her mind remained abuzz, mapping and planning how chaotic the following day or two would be, and she didn't doubt her subconscious sleep schedule would regret this. Simply said, Tío Bruno owed her a damn good finale.