After leaving Bruno's room for the night to head back to, well, Bruno's room, I can't seem to get rid of the smile that's attached itself to my face, nor can I rid myself of the incessant giddy feeling that likes to engross my full being when I spend time with Bruno. The way he smiles, his silly laugh, his witty sense of humor that only shows when he finds a bit of confidence to let it loose, it all enriches my night and pulls me close to him. Part of me wants him to just grab my hand one day while we're standing next to each other...or wrap an arm around my shoulder and pull me close.

I have fallen into his trap and I don't think I ever want to escape.

As I lay my head on my pillow, shooing away thoughts of Bruno, my body can only toss and turn. The giddy feeling starts to fade into nervous, spiraling thoughts. I ponder on the likelihood that a man older than me would ever show me that kind of attention. Real, affectionate, loving attention. Not the perverted kind that the old man I married had held for me. My entire body is suddenly thrown by the impact of heated embarrassment.

What if he thinks me childish? What if I've been bothering him like an incessant child this entire time? Why would he think of a woman who's been married once and has two children as a prospective match? He seemed so uncomfortable last night when Ale had-

Singing, once again, flows into my ears, overwhelming my senses. It is the most beautiful voice, skillfully lilting through the notes, like a siren calling her victims to sea, yet I squirm in frustration at the noise. Turning over and covering my head with my pillow, I try to block out the sound, though it is relentless. Nothing I do can muffle the sound. It is as if the voice is singing from within my own head.

Then the pull hits me, stronger than any other time I've felt it. I stumble to try and plant my feet on the ground fast enough, blankets still tangled around my limbs and pillows falling to the floor. Poor Chiquita is abruptly thrown and scampers away in her half-awake state to avoid being smothered. I take a shaky breath, trying to calm my speeding heart. The anxiety and fear of not following that sound is so intense that staying on my bed may very well kill me.

With little hesitation, I begin my walk toward the candle, falling into a trance, once again. I barely notice the walk down the stairs and out of the room, nor do I sense myself going up the spinning staircase that leads to the candle itself.

I now stare at the candle, light flickering before my eyes. The singing is unbearably loud, as if I am standing in the center of the stage of a large-scale opera. I reach my hand out to touch the candle and the flickering light slowly grows to blinding proportions. The light impedes my vision, but I continue to reach forward. Once my fingers brush against the smooth wax, the light seems to implode on itself before spreading across the room and dissipating. I'm awakened from my fog to a tingling all over my body. It overwhelms me for a moment but I breathe through it until it finally fades away toward my throat, which holds tight to the feeling for a few moments more.

A knocking comes from the hall downstairs. I peek out the window to see Casita using her floor tiles to point toward a door. This door she is pointing to, though, is completely new, as if Casita created it herself. I rush down the stairs and over to the glowing door that sits next to Bruno's. On it glows my own features on a carved woman, her one arm outstretched and mouth opened in song. Surrounding the woman is a myriad of floating musical notes, swirling out from her mouth and trailing down and around her body.

I can't believe my eyes. I have a door…meaning I have a room…meaning I have a gift. My hand reaches up to rub my throat, which still holds a whisper of that odd feeling from before. Hesitantly, I open the door, trying to peek inside. Casita gives me my final push before I start moving forward.

Within the door is a large theatre, a stage with thick maroon and black curtains, and stage lights shining toward the floor. Hundreds of rows for an audience surround the stage, some even placed on the walls in their own sections. I run through the seats, making my way toward the stage. It's bigger than any stage I have ever stood on. Absolutely incredible! I spin a few times before Casita decides to push me toward the back of the stage. Behind the curtains, I find miles and miles of props, stage-sets, and costumes. With a squeal of delight, I run my fingers along the rows and rows of intricately crafted costumes.

To my left is a door. I step closer and open it up to find a small bedroom decked in pink and unicorns, Mila's two favorite things. The canopy bed is covered with large pink curtains, enclosing a world for Mila's own little wonderland. Books and fairy tales are lined up along a white shelf, toys galore resting in bins beneath them.

I leave the room and turn toward the next, within it being a small room filled with blue tones and a miniature tool bench. A large bookcase is off to the side and filled with books little Ale would love, including many about carpentry. Stepping out of his door and closing it behind me, I spot another door on the other side of the large hall. I walk over to it and enter inside, finding a simple room with deep green and black tones. This room is bigger and contains a large canopy bed in its center, two forest green bookshelves on either side of it.

I run out of the room, excited to show the kids their new rooms, but I stop myself. Thoughts of the Señora Madrigal's reaction to this new development fill my brain and I'm suddenly terrified. She would not be happy with this, may even be furious. I touched the candle and received a gift, something that was only meant to be for the Madrigals themselves. Even those that married into the family are not allowed to take their shot at a gift. If only I could hide the room. It's lovely and the greatest gift I've ever received, but it's also a death sentence.

Taking off out of the room, I turn toward the direction of the painting, only to come face-first with the infuriated expression of Señora Madrigal herself. My worst fears are met. Julietta is rushing out of her room, still in the process of throwing on her robe. Pepa seems to still be half-asleep but she approaches and stands behind her madre, confusion on her expression. Even the kids are peeking out of their doors to see what's going on.

"What is going on!" The matriarch yells. "What have you done?"

"I-uh-I didn't mean to-"

"Didn't mean to what? Steal a gift?"

I shrink into myself. I never thought of it that way. "N-no, I, uh, I- there was this singing. It was pulling me toward the candle. I didn't mean for any of this. I-"

Señora Madrigal silences me with a hand. "We have helped you at our own expense, housed you and your children when you had nothing. We've fed you, offered you this opportunity to become a part of a community that accepts no outsiders. This is how you repay us? By disrespecting everything that holds this family, this town, together."

"Mamá," Julietta says, "She said there was a pull. Maybe the magic-"

"The magic is for this family! It has not chosen anyone else and will not. She has stolen that gift. What if it was supposed to be Mirabel's?"

Silence fills the room. Pepa, who is now fully awake, glares down at me, the bloodshot eyes adding to her fearsome appearance. Julietta looks back at the children, waving them away to their rooms before turning toward her madre, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Mamá, you know that isn't true. Mirabel followed the same ritual as the rest of us and was not given a gift. The candle called for her. If she wasn't to receive a gift, it wouldn't have done anything at all. Magic is not duped that easily."

The matriarch stands frozen, seething in her animosity, her eyes never leaving my own. I wait anxiously, holding my breath until she finally responds to her hija. "Very well," she states, "I suppose you are right. But this act of disrespect cannot go unnoticed. I will think on these things for a few days before I decide what must be done." She turns to Julietta. "And I will decide. No negotiations."

I watch as the Madrigals return to their beds, the matriarch first, soon followed by a stomping Pepa. Julietta turns to me, giving me a hug and telling me everything will be alright before returning to her own bed. I wait a few moments before making my way over to the nursery, who's door had never cracked open during the whole ordeal. Within it I find three sleeping faces. I sigh in relief. Mirabel didn't have to hear her Abuela's cruel words.

After silently shutting the door, tears spring to my eyes, stinging at the corners until they are finally set free and pour down my face. Glancing around and making sure everyone is fully in their rooms, I tip-toe toward the painting before bursting through and rushing into the passageway. As soon as I fly into the room, Bruno's name is on my lips. He startles awake from his chair, jumping to his feet, his eyes widening at the sight of me. That's when everything falls apart in me. I cry out and fall to the floor, letting my tears fall where they may. Bruno gets on his knees before me, pulling my head into his chest and rubbing my back. Soothing shushing sounds slip past his lips every so often until I finally gain my own bearings once again. With a sniffle and a swipe of my nose, I look up toward Bruno.

"What's wrong, cariño?"

With a sigh, I tell him. "Remember that night that I was pulled toward the candle in a trance? It happened again, only this time it was much stronger...a-and I didn't have my knight in shining armor to save me." I let out a watery chuckle and Bruno gives me a soft smile. "I touched the candle and...I received a gift-"

"You received a gift!?"

I grimace, "Yes, but it was not the blessing it should have been..." I then explain to him the confrontation with his madre and how his hermana had defended me, holding back the woman's iron fist. Bruno listens intently to every word, his eyes never leaving my own. The look of care and worry on his expression is heart-shattering.

"I'm so sorry, Strella. Mi madre can be a very difficult woman. She is not one to take into consideration the feelings of those around her. The magic chose you, just as it chose her and our family. Your gift is a blessing. To this town and to this family." I smile up at him, tears still staining my cheeks. Bruno brings his thumb forward and traces it along the trail of one, resting his hand on my face, though after a few moments he yanks it back, red flushing across his face. I giggle at him and he returns with a hesitant look transforming into a bright smile. Standing to his feet, Bruno reaches out a hand toward me, lifting me up. We stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say next, until he speaks once again. "So, tell me what this gift is that the magic bestowed on you?"

My eyes fall to the ground. "I-I'm honestly not sure. I believe it has to do with singing. My throat was the last place I felt the magic and my door is covered with music notes. Not to mention the giant stage in my room..."

"Giant stage? Why do I have a feeling you got a much better room than me."

I laugh. "I honestly may have. It's so beautiful Bruno. You must see it. You'll love it." I go into an explanation, describing all the details I saw as I visited the room, lightening the mood from the awful events of the night. Bruno listens with interest, hanging on every word. We begin discussing all the ways we can use the room, performing plays and singing for the town. It would be perfect for celebrations and Encanto's anniversaries.

"Why don't you sing for me?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

Bruno shrugs his shoulders. "If your gift has to do with your voice, maybe you should try singing. I'd say it's the best way to find out."

I nod, thinking for a moment before picking my song. I settle on the sorrowful song that I had sung the night I discovered Bruno outside my door. As the words begin to leave my mouth, though, Bruno's expression drops and tears begin filling his eyes. Just as a tear finds its escape to his cheek, he swipes it away and stammers out "M-maybe something different." With a nod, I begin singing my goodnight song that I sing to the kids and Bruno's eyes droop. It's only moments before he begins to nod off, falling to the side. I stop my singing and rush to catch him, but his weight brings us both tumbling down. With Bruno laying on top of me, limp and snoring, I feel the contradictory sensations of his stimulating breath against my neck while simultaneously being crushed. In a rush, I begin singing a cheery children's song about little pollitos that I used to sing to Ale and Mila. Suddenly, Bruno's head pops up, a goofy smile on his face as he looks down at me. It then morphs to mortification as he realizes the position we're in. "I'm so sorry, Strella. I don't know what came over me, I-" Suddenly, Bruno stops. "You can control emotions with your voice. That's your gift." I giggle and nod. "Yes, I suppose so."

In a fit of absolute insanity, which is the only way I can describe it, I reach my hand up to rest on his cheek, rubbing my thumb against the smooth patches of his skin and then trailing it down to the rougher areas along his jaw. In an effort to keep him from moving away, I slide my hands upward and wrap them around his neck. He stares down at me, his expression now blank. His eyes dart down to my lips, and I feel an anticipation grow in my chest. I do not have to wait for long, though, because soon enough Bruno is leaning down toward me, his lips inching closer and closer to my own.

As soon as our lips meet, an unfamiliar type of magic swirls around us. His lips are soft and hesitant, moving so carefully against my own, before slowly caving into the passion. Warmth spreads throughout my body as the intensity picks up. I pull him tighter to me, my toes curling with excitement and pleasure.

He gently pulls away from me. The moment he realizes his own actions is obvious in his expression. Suddenly, he jumps up and sits on the floor a few paces away, fear blatant in his eyes. I sit up abruptly, presumably with swollen lips and messy hair to match Bruno's. "I-uh-I should just-" I stammer, blood rushing toward my face. Without another thought, I stand to my feet and run out of the room.