"You're all set," the doctor said. He had finished up giving Mariano stitches. "You should fully recover in a week or two. If possible, avoid using that arm. It'll lessen the chances of the stitches coming apart."

"Thank you," Mariano said. "May I go see my wife?"

"Of course," the doctor said. "She's in the next room on the left."

Mariano jumped off the table. He walked down the hall until he appeared at the right door. He slowly opened the door just in case Dolores was still sleeping. She had awoken. She had stitches on her forehead. She was wearing a hospital gown since her clothes were ruined.

"You're awake," Mariano said. He sat at her bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"My head is killing me," Dolores said. "That was a poor choice of words."

"I told the police what happened," Mariano stated. "Some people from the Encanto are coming to confirm what I told them. They'll learn he's a violent criminal, and this was his third attempt on you. We should be clear to go soon."

"Mariano, I'm so sorry," Dolores said. "I'm sorry I killed your brother."

"I don't have a brother," Mariano shrugged off. "The moment he touched you, he stopped being my brother. After all, he put our family through; he doesn't deserve to be called my brother. I would have done the same if I was in your position."


They made their way back to the Encanto in the next few days. Dolores and Mariano kept to the Casita most of the time. While the physical wounds were recovering, the mental wounds would take longer. The next weekend, there were two funerals.

The first was Adrien's. He was buried in an unmarked grave. This was done so no one could vandalize this. Only two people were in attendance. Senora Guzman went, not knowing how to feel. Mariano accompanied her so she wouldn't be alone. The priest fumbled through his notes. He knew any nice thing he could say would be a lie.

The next day was Camilo's funeral. Most of the town showed up for that. In the town cemetery, there was a special spot for Madrigals to be buried. So far, Pedro Madrigal was the only one buried. They had already saved a spot for Alma to be buried beside her husband.

Luisa, Agustín, Felix, and Mariano had been tasked as pallbearers. The funeral was closed casket. Even though the mortician did his best to make Camilo look like he was just asleep, they didn't think it was a good idea for Pepa to see her baby in such a state. The storm was still ragging on.

"It's always such a sorrowful day," the priest said solemnly. "A day where we bury someone so young. In his short time on this Earth, he had touched the lives of many. He used his gift to serve our community."

Once the service was over, Isabela turned to her sisters and cousins. "Camilo would have hated that," Isabela whispered.

"I'm sure most people would hate their own funeral," Mirabel said.

"No," Isabela whispered. "He'd hate how sad it was. If Camilo was anything; he was a prankster. He'd want everyone laughing while fondly remembering him."

"You're right," Mirabel stated. "Even when we were in the nursery, he was always joking around."

"Speaking of the nursery, we should sleep in there tonight," Isabela suggested. "All of us. For old times' sake. To remember the good times."