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"Julieta?" No response. "Mi amor, you should head to bed."

Julieta didn't look at her husband. "I can't," she said, flipping the dough in her pan. "I'm making arepas, they're Mirabel's favorite, you know."

Agustín sighed heavily and approached his wife. She had been like this since the house was rebuilt, cooking nonstop. More accurately, cooking their daughter's favorites nonstop, as if she would come down from the nursery and devour them as she had in the past. It was almost like she forgot Mirabel was gone every night.

In a way, he envied her; he wished he could forget too.

"Julieta," he said, louder this time. He firmly gripped her shoulder and she finally paused in her diligent movement. "You have to stop this."

Julieta's jaw tightened as she finally looked at him. It was ironic how much she looked like Alma in that moment, her cold gaze pinning him in place. "I am no fool, Agustín," she spat. "I know our daughter is dead." Her eyes narrowed. "No estoy loca."

Agustín held his hands up placatingly; his wife didn't get angry often, but when she did it was piercing and cutthroat. "I didn't say that, mi esposa," he said. "But every night you make all this food-"

"Just because Mirabel is dead doesn't mean she doesn't get to eat too!" Julieta snapped, harshly throwing down her spatula as she spun around to face him. He took in the bags under her eyes and the way her usually neat bun was all but coming apart. Tears welled in her eyes as she helplessly looked at him, her anger receding. "I just... Mirabel always felt left out and forgotten. I thought she would like it if I made her dinner too."

In a bizarre way, that made sense. He and Julieta had tried their best to make Mirabel feel as loved as Isabela and the rest of the children, but Alma's cold demeanor had hindered that more often than not.

It was a great pain, to know that his daughter died thinking she wasn't as important as her sisters or cousins. That she died thinking she had something to prove.

Julieta sighed, running her hands through her hair. "Go to bed, mi amor," she advised tiredly. "I will be there in a moment."

Agustín's shoulders sagged. "¿Prometes?" he questioned.

She smiled at him, leaning over to gently peck his cheek. "Lo prometo," she vowed. He nodded hesitantly, retreating from the kitchen and slowly walking up to their room.

Once her husband was gone, Julieta quickly finished the arepas. As she had every night, she left the plate on the counter. "Aquí tienes, mija," she offered. "I hope you like them." She stared at the plate for a moment, not sure what she was waiting for. What, did she expect her baby to pop up out of nowhere and eat the food in front of her? It hadn't happened the last few nights- it would never happen- so why was she hoping and praying for a different result?

Julieta groaned, finally turning away from the plate. "Agustín is right," she muttered, slapping her forehead. "Te estás volviendo loca, vieja. Mirabel is never coming back."

She was about to join her husband, when she heard it. Quiet chewing sounds, then accompanied by-

"These are so good, Mamá."

Tears once again welled in Julieta's eyes. She spun around, coming face-to-face with a ten-year-old Maribel plopped on the counter and happily munching on an arepa. She knew her daughter was ten because her glasses had been taped in the middle. An incident with her nephew's shapeshifting that she remembered well had been the cause. "M-Mirabel?"

Mirabel waved. "Hola," she greeted.

Julieta wasted no time, hoisting the girl from the counter and into her arms. Mirabel had never been a small child, so it wasn't easy, but Julieta didn't care. Her baby was here in her arms. The house could have come down around them once again and Julieta wouldn't have let go.

Not again.

Mirabel happily curled into her chest. "Gracias for the food, Mamá," she said softly. "I know you leave it just for me every night." She pulled back, patting her mother's cheek. "But you don't have to anymore. I know you and Papá love me."

Julieta frowned, touching her daughter's soft curls. "We didn't tell you nearly enough," she recalled. "We didn't show you nearly enough."

Julieta regretted many things regarding her daughter. She regretted not assuring her that she was special enough, even though Julieta never doubted she was. She regretted allowing any of her daughters to be favored over the other in any way. She regretted that Mirabel had felt the need to fix what had never been her responsibility in the first place.

But most of all, Julieta regretted not standing up to her mother more.

Her mother was the head of the Encanto. Not only was she the family's renowned matriarch, but she was also the people's savior, the one to lead them to a better future. The town didn't go against her word, let alone anyone in the family.

But that shouldn't have mattered. Her mother had been hurting her daughter for a decade. And she had done nothing but watch and then try to lick Mirabel's wounds. And that hadn't been enough, it hadn't been nearly enough.

She would never forgive herself.

This time, it was Mirabel's turn to frown. "Yes you did," she insisted. "You always told me I was special. You always told me I didn't need powers. You always told me that my embroidery and sewing was beautiful. Mamá-" She grabbed Julieta's cheeks with her chubby hands. "That meant the world to me."

Julieta allowed her tears to fall. "But it wasn't enough to save you," she whispered.

Mirabel's cheeks puffed out. "Even if I had gotten a gift," she said. "Even if Abuela hadn't treated me the way she did or Isabela hadn't been so mean to me, I still would have done it. Mamá, I love this family."

Julieta pressed their forehead together, knowing it was true. Despite being treated as an outcast, her family pride and admiration ran deep. No one had been more devoted to the wellbeing and happiness of the Madrigals or the miracle. "We did not deserve you." This time she took her daughter's cheeks, holding the soft flesh in her hands. "I love you more than life itself, my Mirabel."

Mirabel giggled. "I love you more, Mamá." But then she pulled back, a serious expression on her face. "I have to go now, though."

Julieta sighed. "I know." She kissed her baby's forehead. "Promise me that wherever you go you'll be happy?"

Mirabel beamed and seeing her daughter happy made Julieta's grief-ridden heart just a little lighter. "¡Lo prometo!"

And then she faded away, leaving Julieta by herself once more. She blew a kiss into the night. "Adiós, mija."

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So originally, I was gonna have Agustín talk to her too, but then the more I thought about it the more hesitant I was. It would have been awkward to fit him into the scene. One-one-one interactions are more my style. I felt like handling his reactions and Julieta's reactions wouldn't have turned out good. Sorry about that! I might do a one-on-one interaction with him later, but don't count on it! Also, someone give Julieta a hug, she needs a hug. Anyway, I hope you liked it and please review!