We are getting closer and closer to the end of things. It feels strange to realize how far we've come since I started. I'm tying up all the loose ends gradually. But it isn't over quite yet.

"And Mamá Lucía said that Primo Carlos could make even the worst instrument sound amazing."

Miguel nodded absently as Tomás spoke. He listened since he knew how important it was to remember their ancestors, but most of his attention was on subjects other than his classmate or the clock above their heads steadily ticking towards the start of the school day. Subjects far closer to home.

It felt strange to realize that they were close to end. That all his work and research had come to this. Mamá Coco's interview would be published any day now. Her interview and the rest of the research would on full display, ready for the world to read. And while it might start in a single magazine, Señor Campos assured them that it would likely be reprinted in various newspapers, other magazines, and all over the internet before it was over. The truth would come out. People would know about Ernesto's crimes. Or at least some of his crimes. And they would know about Papá Héctor. Miguel would be able to talk about how amazing he was, how talented he was, and how he wrote all those songs that people loved.

And people would know his story. Shared by Mamá Coco, someone who knew him in life. Everyone who read that interview would remember Papá Héctor. The idea was brilliant. She seemed so proud of herself afterwards, even if she also seemed completely exhausted and Abuelita helped settle her into bed to rest once she was finished.

The article would be out soon and that would bring changes. It already was. The guitar was returned to town hall, his papá doing it anonymously. Not wanting to risk anyone else stealing "Ernesto's" guitar, they were keeping it there until they could change all the locks and the executors of the de la Cruz estate were satisfied that the crypt was safe again. Of course, once the article was published, the Rivera family could try claiming it for themselves.

Until then, Miguel could practice songs on the instrument that he received for the holidays. It wasn't as fancy as Papá Héctor's guitar, but it seemed nice. Just like Rosa's new violin and Abel's accordian.

Abuelita really knew how to offer an apology.

He'd done everything that he could. Miguel could accept that. Whether or not people believed the truth, he'd done everything possible to unravel Ernesto's legacy of lies. And Papá Héctor would be remembered. He was safe. Miguel actually made it happen. Him and Mamá Coco.

Too bad that he couldn't tell Papá Héctor about everything. Not until he died.

Frowning briefly as he tapped his pencil on the edge of his desk and listened absently to Tomás talk about his long-dead primo, an idea started blooming at the back of his mind. Yes, he wouldn't be able to directly talk to his dead relatives. But maybe he could communicate another way. Maybe a letter?

But how? He could try tying one to Dante and see if he could carry it across the same way he brought the jacket back. He was an alebrije. But it could get lost or covered in drool. The letter would be too important to risk it. Not until he was sure the system would work.

He could leave it on the ofrenda, but that would mean waiting months. Several months. And Papá Héctor and everyone deserved to find out sooner that Ernesto's lies were coming apart. Leaving a letter on the ofrenda would work, but Miguel wished that he could find a better option.

Then he remembered Papá Héctor, who never got the chance to cross the Marigold Bridge, holding a foto of his smiling face. A foto that he must have brought with him somehow. And no matter how it made his stomach twist since it made him admit how time was running out for someone else that he loved, it gave Miguel an idea.

Before he could pursue the idea any further however, the bell rang and signaled the start of the school day.

Imelda smiled as she worked, glancing around the workshop occasionally. She loved this. She loved working on shoes, surrounded by her family.

And that included a part of her family that she once thought was gone forever.

Currently sitting next to Rosita as she worked, watching closely from his perch on this stool, Héctor seemed to be firmly on the mend by now. He used the cane still to keep his weight off the healing leg and to occasionally steady himself, but he could make it from the upstairs bedroom down to the workshop without help. His endurance and energy were returning. He might not be completely back to normal. She certainly didn't think he was up to a sprint across the entire Land of the Dead, which was the only thing that she could figure that he and Miguel did that night to cover that much ground. But after months, he was nearly recovered.

True, things weren't perfect. Even as Héctor seemed to grow closer to the rest of the family, hesitantly asking questions as he sat next to a different member each day and would eat dinner at the table in the evening, there was a caution to his behavior that seemed foreign to how she remembered him. He watched his words, neatly avoiding certain topics or deflecting with a seemingly-casual remark. She remembered him being such a tactile person and she could occasionally catch glimpses of him stopping himself from reaching out, but he didn't initiate contact anymore. He waited, letting someone else take the lead. Like he was walking on eggshells around them, afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. Or maybe just afraid of her.

And despite her resolve to stop being a coward, she couldn't banish her own nerves.

It shouldn't be this hard. But there was too much history. And too much guilt. Even now her emotions were a mess when it came to her husband. She didn't know how to approach him, to find out if he would stay despite having every reason to leave now that he was nearly healed. Thinking about it made her feel vulnerable and weak, two things that she refused to be.

But the shoes were nearly complete. Perhaps they would be enough to bridge the gap between the two of them, a gap created by nearly a century of separation, decades of misunderstandings and pain on both sides, and a lack of trust for idiotic reasons on her end. Shoes held her family together when they were at their weakest. Shoes bound them together and took care of her family. She hoped that shoes would be enough this time. She hoped that if she put enough love and attention into these shoes, it would help repair the damage. It was all that she could come up with.

Maybe it would be enough. Maybe he would stay. Despite everything that she did and everything that he went through, maybe he would stay. Maybe… maybe they could repair a few fragments of their relationship after all. She was trying to hope.

And that hope and being surrounded by her family was enough for now. It was enough to keep her smiling.

The familiar and soothing sounds of the workshop, everyone working on orders and chatting casually with one another, often became comfortable background noise. She barely noticed it at times unless something shifted. So while the sound was quiet, the bell ringing as the door facing the street opened was enough to make her head snap up.

Three skeletons walked in, looking a little uncomfortable and giving every impression of not being certain that they were welcome. They weren't the typical customers who frequented the shop. Their clothes looked cheap and second-hand, but clean and in decent condition. Like they were trying to look their best. But two of them were already wearing shoes that Imelda instantly recognized as Rivera quality, though one of them was barefoot.

And none of this was enough to hide the faded facial markings and the dull shade of their bones.

Nearly forgotten.

"Tía Gabriela?" Rosita dropped her current project and abandoned her workstation, startling Héctor into looking up. "Primo Juan? And Tío Carlos? I almost didn't recognize you without your violin." Scooping each of them up in a hug, she asked, "What are you doing here? You didn't have to walk all the way here."

They weren't relatives of Imelda. Not even distant ones, people she hadn't spoken to since her parents cut her off from the family. And yet Rosita certainly knew them. She addressed them as tía, tío, and primo. Were any of them at Julio and Coco's wedding? Imelda didn't recognize them at all.

"Don't worry about me," assured Gabriela. "Primo Juan is perfectly capable of helping an old woman up these towers. Not to mention how spry Tío Carlos has been acting lately." She gestured at one of the men beside her, the one staring mostly at Victoria. "It was about time that we visited you for a change."

While Imelda tried her best to figure out if they were distant relatives of Rosita and Julio, movement caught her eye. Héctor was on his feet. A confused and worried frown was quickly replaced by a broad and carefree grin, one that slipped into place with practiced ease.

"Hey," he said with a casual tone. "Look at all three of you. The last few months have been good to you. And is that a new dress, Tía Gabriela?"

"Cousin Héctor," greeted Gabriela. "Prima Victoria told us that you were doing better. Up on your feet and everything."

"They… They've been visiting?" he said, his expression briefly becoming anxious before he could recover.

"Regularly," said Juan. Gesturing towards his feet, he explained, "She and Tía Rosita have been bringing down orders of shoes to Shantytown since Día de Muertos. We told them that they didn't have to, but they've been stubborn." Chuckling slightly, he said, "Kind of like you and the bridge, really. But we've enjoyed having them come by. We just wanted to save them the trip this time."

Still staring at Victoria, Carlos said, "Especially since my shoes never seem to make it down there. Another man might have his feelings hurt by now."

Victoria gave him a mildly amused look before shaking her head and stepping away from her workstation. She started going through the stack of boxes of completed ordered, reading the labels carefully.

They weren't related to Rosita or Julio. Imelda came to that realization as she, Oscar, Felipe, and Julio watched the reunion silently. Nor were they related to Héctor. She knew for a fact that he was an orphan and never knew anything about his family. They weren't technically related to any of them.

But they knew Héctor. And all of them were on the verge of being forgotten, their bones different shades of the dull and yellowing color. Imelda barely knew anything about them. But she was able to put together some of the pieces from how they were interacting and addressing each other. They… They'd formed a group together, existing on the fringes.

It was a family.

In some ways, it hurt to know that Héctor had another family. Not another wife or a child as she'd imagined during the darker days of the past few decades, but what seemed to be adopted tíos and primos. The feeling of being replaced kept prickling her. But that wasn't fair. And honestly, what did she expect when she continuously drove him away? It was better that he wasn't alone all that time.

But it meant that if he chose to leave, Héctor had something to return to. He had an adoptive family who didn't spend decades trying to forget him.

"What have I missed? Did Prima Verónica ever get her roof fixed?" asked Héctor, his carefree grin settling back in place.

Returning with his own smile, Juan said, "You missed plenty."

"A few new faces arrived," said Gabriela, "and a few old faces are gone now." Imelda felt the mood darken briefly, the faded skeletons sharing a moment of loss before pushing past it. "But the biggest changes came from the ruling on the de la Cruz trial."

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Wa-wait, wait," Héctor stammered. "Wait… There was a trial?"

Maybe they should have mentioned it to him sooner. Or at all. But in her defense, they'd been busy and discussing Ernesto wasn't something that Imelda was eager to do.

Taking a small step forward, Imelda said, "Of course there was a trial. Did you think that he would get away with everything once the truth came out? Everyone knows what Ernesto did and he is paying for his crimes. Far too late in my opinion, but it is finally happening. He's going to be locked away for a very long time."

"Not to mention that his belongings have been donated to all of us," said Gabriela.

"Wait, what?" Héctor yelped.

"It sounded like a good idea at the time," said Julio with a shrug.

"Several of us have been working on the best way to deal with all of it," continued Gabriela. "Some of it we're keeping, but most of it is being sold."

"I voted on everyone moving into his giant mansion, but apparently everyone else wanted to be practical rather than do the fun option," Carlos said.

"You would have grown tired of the ivory tower eventually," said Victoria dryly as she shook her head at his words, though Imelda noticed a subtle smile on her granddaughter's face.

"The man might have been a thief, a liar, and a murderer, but he had mountains of offerings," said Gabriela. "Ernesto was rich enough that we bought and are renovating several older buildings into apartments while still having enough to give everyone down there clothes, food, and so on."

"I think the old owners of those buildings nearly died again when they realized we were the ones buying the properties." Carlos chuckled. "They didn't expect us to have anything close to enough."

Smiling, Gabriela said, "It could last us quite a while if we're careful. Centuries. And apparently his future offerings also go to us. Honestly, it might be nice to sleep somewhere where the walls aren't on the verge of falling on windy nights."

"As if we would let those walls fall on you," Héctor said with a casual grin.

Casual.

He wasn't acting like he was on guard, chatting and exchanging gossip with the nearly-forgotten skeletons. Héctor seemed relaxed. He seemed happy. Standing near them, she could see how much whiter his bones were now and how much brighter his facial markings seemed in comparison. But even with those improvements, Héctor seemed to fit in with them perfectly.

Casual. Relaxed. Happy.

Everything that he didn't seem to be around her.

Imelda and the rest of the family watched quietly as the yellowed skeletons caught up with each other. Other than Rosita chiming in occasionally when they mentioned someone she knew, they couldn't contribute much. Most of the Riveras were left in awkward silence.

What could she say anyway? Especially whenever one of them mentioned a name and she would see a flicker of grief, telling her without words that it was someone that they'd lost. Someone who experienced the Final Death. Even when the grief was quickly replaced with the cheerful reminiscing from before, she could tell how much it hurt them.

How many faces had they seen disappear in flashes of golden light? And with the exception of Héctor, all of them would soon follow the same fate. None of them would be saved at the last minute because of a rebellious, stubborn, wonderful great-great-grandson getting himself cursed. They would soon be gone. That thought made something in her chest twist sharply in pity.

After watching Héctor collapsing in colorful spasms before nearly slipping away, after three days of waiting to see if the bright and unnatural light would snatch him away completely, Imelda couldn't bear the idea of witnessing something like that again.

"Oh, I can't believe I nearly forgot," said Gabriela abruptly. She smacked Juan's arm and said, "Give Cousin Héctor the thing we brought."

Reaching over his shoulder and drawing Imelda's attention to something that she missed earlier, Juan pulled a wrapped package from where it was tied to his back. Even covered in brown paper and tied with twine, Imelda recognized the familiar shape. And judging by the way Héctor's eyes widened, he knew what it was too.

"A guitar?" he asked quietly.

"Ernesto had hundreds of them just sitting around and gathering dust. We sold most of them, but a few of the more musical primos grabbed a couple," said Carlos. "We figured that you deserve one too."

"Just in case," Juan added. "Things change, after all."

Juan held the instrument out to him. And while Héctor took a small step forward, he didn't reach out to take it or even try to unwrap the guitar for a better look. The hesitation had returned.

And that was when Imelda realized another change. In the months since Día de Muertos, she hadn't heard Héctor hum, sing, or even tap out a rhythm. He used to always have a song going. Music was a part of him. And yet other than his fingers twitching in his sleep as if he was playing a guitar, Héctor hadn't shown a hint of music.

Did he think that the music ban was still in place even after she sang on stage? Was he afraid of how she would react?

She didn't want that. She missed the sound of Héctor playing the guitar. And she missed the sound of his singing.

"Here it is," said Victoria, walking back over with a box in her hands. "I finished them a few days ago and put them away."

Smiling, Carlos said, "I'm certain the wait was well worth it. Especially since you're the one who made them for me."

Wait. What? Imelda's focus narrowed in solely on them, tuning out Rosita's quiet squeal or the way the twins exchanged confused looks. What was the man doing? It… it almost reminded her of when Héctor used to follow her around with his guitar when they were barely more than children. What was going on?

"They are Rivera shoes. That means they are dependable, comfortable, and one-of-a-kind because they are intended only for a specific person," said Victoria evenly.

"Rather like the pretty and talented señorita who crafted them," he said as he accepted the box. "I know that I'm going to love them, Victoria. Gracias." Gesturing at her hair, Carlos said, "And I can see that you received my gift. Can I assume that you like it?"

Victoria reached up and gently touched the paper flower tucked into her bun, the blue one that she'd been wearing recently. Imelda never thought to ask about it before. But now she couldn't stop staring. Though Héctor was certainly being distracting, his eyes wide as he repeatedly glanced between Victoria and Carlos so quickly that she half-expected his head to fall off his spine. And…

Wait, did Victoria almost look shy. Neither of Imelda's granddaughters were shy, though Victoria certainly wasn't as outgoing as her sister. But the way her eyes briefly dropped and the tiniest hint of a smile made her look shy. Or… like she was trying to avoid blushing, even if skeletons could no longer blush anyway.

What was happening?

"I'm glad that you liked it," he continued. Reaching into his shirt, Carlos said, "Though I did try to find something a little more specific to you."

He pulled out a paperback book. A brown cover with dog-eared corners from a long life of being mishandled, Imelda could tell that it was yet another object gained second-hand. With a small smile that looked as shy as Victoria's, he handed it over to her.

"Como Agua Para Chocolate by Laura Esquivel," read Victoria, her thumb brushing along the cover.

Shrugging, he said, "I don't know if you have it already. The book came out long after I died and probably for you as well. But it seemed like an interesting book and even the recipes looked good."

"You read it?"

"I needed to make sure that you'd like it. And… I thought maybe we could talk about the book together after you finished."

Tilting her head and peering over her glasses, Victoria slowly gave him a more confident smile. A gentle and warm one. The kind that reminded Imelda of how Coco looked when she would sneak out to go dancing with Julio. Or how Elena's expression softened when she spent time with Franco. It took a moment, but Imelda recognized the look in her eyes for what it was.

But it didn't make sense. Her sensible, practical, and level-headed granddaughter never showed much interest in the men around Santa Cecilia. Or… maybe they didn't show much interest in her. Which was ridiculous since Victoria was so smart, beautiful, and talented. But her granddaughter seemed fine with only her family and occasional friend. Imelda accepted it as part of who she was. Victoria didn't want or need a husband, just like Rosita. She never expected to see that particular look in Victoria's eyes.

And yet it that was exactly what Imelda saw now.

"I think I would like that," said Victoria. She glanced up at the clock on the wall before her eyes returned to him. "Perhaps if you have the time to spare this afternoon, you could come with me and I could recommend a few books in return." Victoria looked around briefly at her family. "If you could spare me for a few hours?"

Imelda opened her mouth, though she wasn't certain what she planned to say. But another voice beat her.

"Of course, míja," said Julio. "We'll be fine."

Giving her a nod, Carlos said, "How could I turn down such an offer from a beautiful señorita? I would be happy to accept your invitation."

"Great." Rosita beamed as she scurried over to Juan and Gabriela, taking the wrapped guitar and setting it on the ground. "We'll help Tía Gabriela and Primo Juan with the completed orders for the others while you two have fun. You don't spend enough time away from the workshop anyway."

Victoria gave her tía a fond and mildly exasperated look before shaking her head. Then she gave Carlos a similarly fond smile. But it was different. Less platonic and familial and more…

She loved him. Imelda could see it in Victoria's eyes and couldn't believe that she didn't notice it before. She couldn't believe that she was only now learning about Victoria and Rosita taking shoes down to Shantytown and how Carlos apparently developed feelings for Victoria. Her granddaughter loved this man who gave her paper flowers and brought her books.

Part of Imelda wanted to be happy for her granddaughter, finding someone to love and who might even love her back. She deserved to have that in her afterlife. But the rest of her couldn't ignore what was happening. She couldn't ignore reality.

Carlos reached out and Victoria took his hand, ivory fingers wrapping around duller-colored ones.

How long? How long did he have until the Final Death claimed him? How long until Victoria was the one cradling someone that she loved as he shuddered, flashing gold as he was forgotten by the living? How long until Victoria was left with nothing except loss and heartache?

Victoria would lose him far too soon. Imelda couldn't bear the idea of her granddaughter going through that. She couldn't let Victoria go through that pain.

She had to protect her family.

Imelda watched silently as Victoria stepped out of the workshop with Carlos, a small smile on her granddaughter's face and identical looks of surprise and approval on Héctor, the twins, and Julio's faces. Rosita, Juan, and Gabriela merely looked smug and proud. Imelda would discuss all this later. She would fix things later. After their company was gone.

Once Carlos and Victoria were gone, Imelda helped gather the boxes of shoe orders for Juan and Gabriela. All of Rosita and Victoria's "mysterious shoe orders" suddenly had an explanation. But she had no problem providing shoes to those who needed them. These people deserved quality Rivera footwear just as Héctor did.

Though Imelda still found herself struggling with uncomfortable emotions as the interactions continued, not quite jealousy and not quite regret. Héctor looked so happy, so comfortable, and so carefree as he exchanged farewells with his adopted family. As if he didn't have a single worry in the world. Closer to how he used to be with her so long ago.

But the moment that Juan and Gabriela left with their boxes of shoes to take to Shantytown, Héctor slumped. His hand landed on the closest surface for support, drawing Imelda's attention to the fact that he'd not touched his cane while they were around and that he'd been standing for far longer than he'd managed recently. And his carefree expression melted away to something tired and worn out. Almost as if the earlier cheer was at least partially a mask, something he'd slipped on to keep them from worrying.

Giving him a disapproving look, Oscar said, "Dr. García is going to knock your skull off—"

"—for not using your cane, Héctor."

"I won't tell him if you don't," he replied with a wry grin, moving carefully back to his stool.

Dinner that night felt a little off. It wasn't bad. Only different. But Julio's eyes couldn't help flickering towards Victoria's empty chair.

Híjole, this was going to kill him again. He was happy for his daughter, but he barely survived Elena dating and that was with Coco's support and reassurance. But now he was dealing with Victoria and her clear interest in this Carlos fellow. And Julio could practically feel himself on the verge of a stress-induced heart attack just thinking about it, regardless of the fact that he was dead and his heart long gone.

Rosita, however, was ecstatic about the whole thing. She'd practically been floating as she cooked and served dinner. It didn't take a mind reader to realize that she fully supported the new relationship.

Not surprisingly, when Victoria came into the house as evening fell, Rosita was the first person to fling herself from the table to greet her.

"Míja!" Wrapping Victoria in a tight hug as if she was still a child, Rosita asked excitedly, "Did you have a good time? Was Carlos a perfect gentleman? What did you do? Where did you go? I want to hear everything. Every detail."

"You were out late," said Imelda evenly.

Pulling out of her tía's arms, Victoria said, "Lo siento. I lost track of time. We were at the biblioteca for a little while and I used my card to check out a few books that I thought Carlos might like. The librarian was reluctant to lend books out to him. Apparently they're worried about whether the books would be returned. It took a little while to convince the librarian to be sensible."

Which with Victoria meant firm and unwavering decisiveness rather than the emotional and aggressive reactions that Elena might have displayed in a similar situation. His daughters were both so similar and yet so different in temperament.

"And after that," she continued, "we had something to eat and went to one of the plazas that he tends to play his violin at. It was… nice."

"That sounds nice," said Julio. "I'm happy that you had a good time. Though I think I should probably get to know the man properly sometime."

Smiling reassuringly, Héctor said, "Don't worry. Carlos is a good man. I've known him a while. He wouldn't hurt her."

"It's nice that you had a pleasant evening," said Imelda. "I suppose that everyone deserves a day out on the rare occasion."

"I made plans to see Carlos next week," Victoria said firmly.

Julio didn't see or hear anything, but he felt the subtle shift in the mood around the table. He'd spent too much of his life and afterlife surrounded by strong-willed and intimidating women not to develop a sensitivity to these changes. He hunched his shoulders uneasily. Julio glanced between Imelda and Victoria, noticing the first hints of the Rivera stubbornness starting to manifest in their eyes.

"That may not be the best idea, míja," said Imelda. "You don't want to rush into anything."

"This isn't rushing, Mamá Imelda. When have you ever known me to be impulsive? This is spending time with someone that I like and whose company I enjoy," she said calmly. "This is getting to know Carlos better. This is the opposite of rushing things and you know it."

Breathing out a tired sigh, Imelda said, "Míja, I know he seems charming, but I really don't think this is the best idea. I don't think you've really taken the time to think this through properly."

"I know that you were protective of Mamá and Elena when they met Papá and Franco, but I seem to recall that you gave them a chance," Victoria said dryly, crossing her arms as she stood there. "I believe that you can afford to extend Carlos the same courtesy. Not only has Papá Héctor spoken for him, but so have I."

"And he seems like a nice man. I'm not saying otherwise."

"Then perhaps you should trust my judgment, Mamá Imelda. I have never given you a reason not to."

Julio cringed uneasily, a reaction that most of the other skeletons shared. No one in the family ever went against Imelda when she put her foot down. With the exception of a certain music-loving living boy. And she was approaching that point now. But while Elena and Victoria always loved and respected their Mamá Imelda, they were never quite as intimidated as other members of the family. Victoria simply went along with her decrees out of respect and because she agreed with them.

But this time, Victoria didn't. And she clearly didn't intend to back down.

This couldn't end well.

"Uh… I have no problem with Carlos," said Julio nervously, not liking the slight edge in their voices and hoping that for once he was wrong about where this conversation was going.

Massaging the bone ridge between her eye sockets tiredly, Imelda said, "Míja, you are just making this more difficult than it needs to be. I'm trying to look out for you. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"For once, I don't need your help looking out for myself. Leave it alone and let me decide things for myself."

"Imelda," said Héctor hesitantly. "Victoria is a grown woman. Older than we were. Maybe…"

"Victoria." Imelda's expression hardened. "I'm sorry, but we're not discussing this further. I won't let you get hurt because you aren't thinking."

Glaring through her glasses, Victoria said coldly, "I am thinking. And I know for a fact that Carlos won't hurt me."

"Perhaps not intentionally," she snapped sharply, causing everyone to wince. Julio couldn't miss the guilt that flashed across Héctor's face. "But no matter how nice that he might seem, Carlos is being forgotten. And Miguel won't be able to pull off another miracle. You won't have much time before he's gone."

"Do you truly believe that I don't know that?" asked Victoria. Her calm and even voice took on the faintest hint of anger that sounded more like Elena, though it grew no louder. "Do you think I am oblivious? I have been thinking about it for a while and I know that it can only end one way. But I would rather have some time with Carlos than to stay away and have none."

"And Carlos isn't that far gone yet," Héctor said, his voice a little louder than before. His head was bowed slightly, but his words were steady. "I know the signs. Unless something happens, he should have at least a decade before the Final Death. Maybe even two."

"Do you think that will make it hurt less? It'll break your heart, Victoria," said Imelda. Julio almost thought he heard her voice crack a little, but it must have been his imagination. "And I won't let you go through that. I love you too much and you don't deserve that pain."

"We had less time than that together," Héctor said. He tilted his head, peering up at her. "We were only married for four years before… everything happened. But even after everything that came after, I don't regret a moment of that. Those four years of happiness, of being with you and Coco… It was worth any pain. Do you regret that time?"

Imelda stared at him for a moment with an expression that Julio couldn't identify. Then she looked away. But her frustration with Victoria hadn't evaporated. It remained clear as she turned her attention back towards her granddaughter, apparently deciding to ignore her husband's attempt to defuse the situation.

"Victoria, I only want what's best for you. I'm sorry, but this conversation is over. All of this is over," said Imelda, trying to keep her voice down even as her temper flared. "Now, why don't you sit down and have dinner with your family."

Julio cringed further as he saw Victoria's eyes narrow further. It was like watching a train crash; he couldn't stop what was happening, but he also couldn't look away. Her temper wasn't as explosive as Imelda's or even Elena's. Victoria was slower to anger. And her fury didn't burn bright and hot. Her anger was cold and sharp enough to cut.

And no matter how much she loved Imelda, Victoria was furious beneath her controlled features.

"You're right," she said evenly. "This discussion is over. I will be seeing Carlos next week and you will not interfere in my choices." Quiet and firm, her voice didn't betray her emotions even slightly. "I listen to you on almost everything because I respect what you tell me, Mamá Imelda. But who I care about is my decision and no one else."

Rising to her feet, Imelda said, "Victoria, I will not let you hurt yourself by going down this path. This is for your own good." Her voice was growing louder. "Victoria, I forbid you to speak with that man ever again. I'm sorry, but you'll thank me someday for sparing you that pain."

"And if I don't? Papá Héctor is right. I'm an adult and have been for quite some time. What if I continue to spend my free time with Carlos?"

Rivera stubbornness met Rivera stubbornness. Burning fury clashed against cold resolve. Everyone around the table could feel the building tension, but no one wanted to step into the escalating argument. Everything was too volatile to risk it. But Julio knew that it needed to stop before it got worse. Imelda's protective anger and unwavering decisiveness against Victoria's open rebellion and refusal to back down could only lead to disaster.

Julio was happy his little girl found love, but he didn't know if any of them would survive the fallout.

"Then you leave me no choice," snapped Imelda sharply. She was nearly shouting by now. "Victoria, you have to decide. Either listen to your family and drop this entire nonsense now or you'll no longer have a place in—"

"Imelda!"

Everyone jumped in surprise at the shout. Héctor was on his feet, hands braced on the table, head bowed, and shaking slightly. He didn't look at them. His entire posture screamed that he was terrified by what he was doing, that he knew the consequences could be dire. And yet he kept going.

"Don't do this," he said, a little calmer and quieter. "Don't give her an ultimatum. Don't make Victoria choose. No matter what happens, she'll resent you for it. She'll hate you for forcing her like that. And you might even lose her completely." Taking a deep breath, Héctor looked up at Imelda. "Don't do this. Don't be your papá."

Julio saw Imelda flinch as if she'd been slapped across the face, a reaction mirrored by Oscar and Felipe. Then that frustration and burning anger with Victoria's behavior turned towards a different and more familiar target. A target she spent nearly a lifetime furious with. And her temper took on a more explosive quality.

"Don't you dare compare me to him," snarled Imelda. "And stay out of this. This is a family matter."

Héctor was the one who flinched this time, but no one was truly unaffected. Rosita covered her mouth in shock. The twins cringed in their chairs. Julio hunched his shoulders and tried to make himself appear smaller. And Victoria looked stunned at what she'd heard.

But before any of them could respond, something hardened briefly in Héctor's expression.

"Maybe I made some mistakes and maybe I couldn't be with this family for a long time, but I tried. I tried to fix things, I tried to come home, and now I'm trying to keep you from making a mistake that could tear your family apart completely," he said, a slight edge of frustration in his voice even as he stood firm in the face of Imelda's full anger. For the first time since he met the man, Julio could see how Héctor could be her equal partner in marriage. "I may not have done much good for this family, but I refuse to just stand by silently while you try to hurt your granddaughter by doing exactly what your papá did to you."

"He cast me out of the family because I refused to believe that marrying an 'orphan músico' was a mistake, that you couldn't be trusted, that you would leave me, and that I would be left alone with nothing," snapped Imelda. "Turns out he was right in the end. Because that's exactly what happened."

Imelda stiffened suddenly, as if abruptly realizing where her uncontrolled temper led her and what came tumbling out of her mouth. But Héctor was already stepping away from the table, head bowed and the man not meeting anyone's eyes. And his expression… Héctor looked devastated and broken, but also resigned and unsurprised by her words. As if he'd fully expected everything to shatter to pieces long before now. He just stood there, breathing shakily as he gripped his wrist tightly.

The entire thing made something in Julio's empty ribcage ache.

Her voice quiet and hesitant, Imelda said, "Héctor—"

"Maybe I can't be trusted," he interrupted, not a hint of emotion in his tone. He merely sounded tired, dull, and broken as he spoke. "You didn't. You didn't trust how much I loved you and Coco." Héctor shook his head briefly. "I shouldn't have said… Lo siento."

Héctor finally looked back up again. He gave the stunned and silent family a polite smile. The expression looked completely fake and utterly heartbreaking.

"Gracias. I appreciate everything that you've done for me, but I've imposed on your hospitality for long enough," he said evenly. "I'll be gone by morning."

Reclaiming his cane, Héctor quietly vanished up the stairs. A few moments after the creaking overhead stopped, Imelda spun around and stomped out the door.

Imelda slammed open the door to the workshop, marching across to her particular corner of it. She yanked out the nearly-complete shoes from where she kept them hidden from sight. Beautiful, well-made, and sturdy shoes. The best pair of shoes that she'd ever made. Shoes made with love, regrets, hope, and pleas for another chance.

She threw them into the bin filled with discarded leather scraps.

Ruined.

Not the shoes. Everything else.

She knew that it wouldn't work. She knew that trying would hurt them both. And yet she was dumb enough to hope.

And then, to make everything worse, she let her temper take control. She tried to protect Victoria, but only made a mess of everything. She wouldn't have turned her back on her granddaughter any more than she would deny Miguel a blessing through the entire night if he refused to surrender music. It was only meant to convince Victoria to listen, nothing more. But the moment she was compared to her papá, Imelda lost it. She said the wrong thing, reacted the wrong way, and hurt everyone in the process.

He did hate her. He was angry over what happened. She'd been waiting for the signs. She'd known that he had to hate her for what she did. And now she finally caught a glimpse of that hurt and how upset he was about the past…

But she only saw it after hurting Héctor again, something she'd tried so hard not to do.

How could she have ever thought there was a chance that he would stay?

He was leaving. He was leaving just as she always knew and feared. He would go back to his other family, all those nearly-forgotten skeletons who didn't spend decades shunning him and breaking Héctor's heart. He would be happier with them. She'd already seen it. She saw it that morning, how carefree and relaxed he was with them.

She ruined it. She ruined it that evening. And she ruined it the moment she lost faith in her husband, so many years ago.

Imelda didn't even realize she was moving until she was already back in the courtyard. She felt disconnected from her body. She just kept replaying her harsh and unyielding words in her head even as Pepita landed beside her and Imelda buried her face in her fur. And when the alebrije's fur started growing wet, Imelda barely noticed.

"Affannato" is written on sheet music during songs that are meant to sound desperate and upset. "Affannato" means to make the music sound "anguished." And if you can't figure out why I chose that title for this chapter, then you haven't been paying attention.

Yeah, this chapter was intense. But these two skeletons are stubborn and refused to communicate. And that sort of thing keeps building and building until some type of catalyst sets everything off. Sometimes even the smallest thing can be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

They weren't going to talk. Not unless some outside force caused things to shift, upsetting the balance enough. Carlos and Victoria were the catalyst for change. And change can be good or it can be bad. In this case, what happened was painful for everyone involved.

But the story isn't quite over yet.