Chapter 9

Cracking Glass, Reborn Hope

She should not have kissed him.

It had been a mistake.

An irrevocable mistake.

Mirabel was pacing behind a row of trees, the sun beating down on her, her heart heavy.

She could not reverse what had happened. After having kissed Carlos and danced with him for hours, finally giving voice to everything they felt for one another, she had returned to Casita before dawn, longing to still be with him.

But the day after, she'd realized just how far her feelings had taken her.

She'd been terrified.

She still was.

She hadn't met with Carlos for three days since their kiss. She hadn't gone to the library, nor to the park. She hadn't even exited Casita for fear of bumping into him, hadn't answered his joyful, then worried letters. He told her he was missing her, but all she'd done was stare at the blank paper, the pen in her hand refusing to move despite the growing hollow in her chest.

Yet she knew she could not avoid him forever. Nor could she stop visiting the orphanage.

Mirabel breathed deeply, comforting herself silently in hopes of gathering every ounce of courage to face the fear that towered over her.

With clumsy steps that wouldn't have convinced anyone who saw her that she was a skilled bailadora, she entered the children's sanctuary, absently leaving everything she brought for them in Señora Castillo's care.

"Where's your brother?" she asked Rafael, who was playing with his friends.

"Upstairs," he replied after embracing her.

She patted his head before climbing the stairs, an unexplainable force tugging her to the top storey with the invisible thread of presumption. Just as she exceeded the last step, the bathroom door on the right of the hallway opened, and Carlos emerged with a giggling Zoraida in his arms. Mirabel's heartbeat raced. He was grinning as he finished wrapping her in a white towel; his cheeks were flushed pink, the front of his shirt and bangs moist and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"If you keep squeaking like that, it'll take me an hour to dress you," he laughed, but stopped short when his gaze landed on the girl next to the balustrade, whose appearance stirred his soul.

"Mirabel!"

While attentively holding Zoraida to his chest with one arm, he strode towards her, draping an arm around her waist to pull her closer. Mirabel couldn't help but notice the firmness of the simple touch. He smelled of lavender soap with a hint of honey, and his hand was extremely warm, a sign that he'd spent at least ten minutes bathing the baby, whose toothless smile managed to oil her heart with a sense of fleeting peacefulness.

"How are you? Did something happen? Are you alright? Is your family okay?"

She'd expected accusations regarding her lack of response to his alarmed letters, but his eyes held so much kindness - the vivid proof of it hurting her - that she knew condemnation and blame were not going to come.

How was she supposed to explain herself? To lay her soul bare, to explain the tangled feelings inside when she had a terrifying hint of clue which ones would prevail?

Tearing her gaze from his lips, she said, "Things are… complicated for me right now. Can we talk?"

His thumb rubbed her side, but it had no comforting effect.

"Sure! But please help me clothe her first, will you?"

"Of course."

In the bedroom where they'd met Zoraida, Mirabel picked a pretty floral dress and a pair of socks. She swelled with fondness when she spied Carlos over her shoulder tickling the baby while drying her up. She then sat on the bed, starting to dress her. Carlos stood behind her, at the edge of the worn mattress, his hand resting on her back. The sensation ignited flames in Mirabel, but she shoved those emotions down, down until she was calm again.

In spite of her experience with babies from raising Antonio, her hands were unusually clumsy. And Carlos repressing his chuckles when Zoraida kicked her fingers away did not help.

"How dare you not let me dress you?" Mirabel found the strength to joke, finally succeeding in her task on the background of Carlos's snickers. "You should sleep now, it's already afternoon."

With that, she placed the baby in its cot, both of them staring at her until she fell asleep. Which happened soon.

Immediately after that, Carlos took her hand. He was waiting for her, his eyes deep and searching.

"Let's go somewhere else," she spoke.

They found an empty room on the level below, one they were certain they would not get interrupted in.

Mirabel leaned against the windowsill, her stomach a knot and a blade in her heart. Carlos was inches from her, but she remained still, despite the inner call that encouraged her to find solace in his arms.

"Carlos," she started, already painfully aware of how difficult this was going to be, "I… I don't deserve you."

His shoulders tensed. "What do you mean? You are enough for me, Mira. More than enough. I love you with all I am. What makes you say that? Is it your lack of gift? Because if I haven't made it clear until now, then let me open your eyes. I. Don't. Care. About that." He tilted her chin to meet her gaze; the pain in it was immense, and it broke him. She barely kept her tears at bay. She glanced sideways, but his gaze was too intense to avoid. "Who you are is most important, and I fell in love with that person."

She wiped her tears before he could do it.

"But I can't…" Her voice broke while she battled with the surfacing weeps.

"What? What can you not? You're scaring me, Mira. Calm down, and breathe."

He helped her sit down, pulling her towards him. Mirabel managed to control her sobbing, but the stains on her cheeks remained.

"I can't be with you, Carlos."

He froze. "What? Why?"

"I just… can't."

"Aren't you allowed to have a lover? Or is it something directed against me personally?" His voice rose in panic. "Did I hurt you somehow?"

She made no answer, only got up.

He got up, too. "Cosa linda?"

Her back was rigid, her face bland, her arms falling by her sides. "I don't love you, Carlos."

She was not facing him, but she knew how his eyes clouded, his features blanching.

"Excuse me?" he whispered.

"No estoy enamorada de ti," she spoke clearly, stepping towards the door.

She'd barely taken a step when he turned her around swiftly, his grip deathly on her upper arms. She saw the despair in his eyes, the brokenness that would start to sip in him any second.

He frowned. "You're lying."

"I'm not, Carlos."

To her astonishment, he grinned, a strangled laugh flying from his throat. "I saw your heart, Mirabel. I know you're in love with me as much as I am with you."

"You're wrong."

"What aren't you telling me?" he mumbled, and the flames in his eyes brightened.

Her gaze went downcast, but he firmly tipped her chin up, searching for the truth in the depths of her soul.

"You're doubting yourself again, aren't you?"

Her jaw clenched. "There's nothing I can give you, Carlos."

"Oh, Mirabel… You gave me more than you will ever know. You lit up my life when it was darkest. You made me want to live again, not just survive." He stepped closer, their breaths mingling. "You are so much more than you even know, and the world needs you. I need you. Come here."

Her cheeks were damp as he enveloped her in his embrace. Her soul felt free, as if the chains that had been binding it to the land of uncertainty and fear finally relinquished their grip, letting her spread wings of hope to fly into the sky of possibility.

She'd missed his warmth more than she had realized. Their hearts synchronized, and a thrill ran through her veins.

She had found someone. After years of praying, Heaven had blessed her.

And she would not take that blessing for granted ever again.

"I'm sorry for worrying you these days. And hurting you. Forgive me."

He kissed her temple, and the sensation warmed her body all over. "I already have."

Something firm pressed against her cheek, and she pulled away just enough to look at the pocket of his shirt, a thin piece of paper peeking over the edge.

"What's this?" She swiftly took it out, and her jaw dropped at the picture of her dancing on the night of Año Nuevo. "Where do you have this from?"

Carlos only smiled knowingly. "Isla had a camera with her. She told me she snapped an entire collection of photos that night. She offered me this one, and how could I refuse a young lady? Especially when she captured you in such an entrancing moment?"

She smirked, her thumb tracing the outline of her dress, a moment frozen in time. "Carlos, ever the charmer, aren't you?"

"My charm is the very thing that has won your heart, cosa linda."

She placed the photo back where it belonged before leaning into him, the softness of his features melting her heart. "Can I kiss you?"

"Do you really need to ask?"

They drew their lips together in a collision of longing and utter joy. Her sides tingled where his hands were comfortably positioned, kneading gently.

When they were both breathless, Carlos pulled back slightly. "Mirabel Madrigal, will you be my lover?"

She laughed. "Carlos Serrano, I will. Did you really need to ask though?"

He joined her laughter. "If one says something aloud, it becomes more real."

"True. Undeniably true."

He picked a small box from his back pocket, a gorgeous shade of dark teal.

Mirabel sighed dramatically. "Are you going to propose to me, too? I'm not sure my heart can take it."

He grinned, opening the lid, a spotless tiny white cushion shining between the velvet walls. And on it…

Mirabel gasped. "You did not…"

"I was going to give it to you on your fifteenth birthday, but I believe this moment is just as suited."

He lifted the necklace, the iridescent butterfly pendant stealing the sunlight as well as her breath.

"Carlos, mi amor, this is… wow! This is so beautiful! Thank you!"

"Allow me," he said, securing it around her neck with deft yet tender hands. Almost weightless, it fell delicately on her skin, the pendant resting just below her collarbone.

He admired the sight before him. "I saw it and thought of you. Mi mariposa. A token of my love for you."

Her eyes glistened while she stood on her toes to kiss his forehead, not missing the way he melted. "How many times have you practised this in front of the mirror?"

He snickered. "I thought the necklace might disintegrate between my fingers."

She laughed again. "As much as I adore it, you know you don't have to..."

"I know, I know, but can you blame me for wanting to buy you something lovely?"

She snuggled closer, their mouths meeting again as the sun started to dip, illuminating their touching frames. The world dimmed out, and they were only aware of each other's comforting presence.

A click woke them to reality, and they parted, flushed and dizzy.

Rafael and Isla were standing in the doorway, the former's face lit up in a smirk and tears streaming down the latter's cheeks while she sniffled.

"How long have you two been there?" Carlos asked playfully, raising an eyebrow, but not masking the powerful sentiments within. In his arms, Mirabel smiled.

"Just got here," Isla replied. She strode toward them, camera in hand. Giggling lightly, she extended the photo she'd snapped, which Mirabel held for both of them to see.

The picture captured their bodies pressed close in the confines of the room beneath the flowing sunlight, his small smile and the glimmering tear in the corner of her eye, the passionate embrace of their lips that spoke a thousand words and emotions.

"I think I'll keep this," Mirabel decided, "so that we both have a photo."

"Fair enough," Carlos complied, a mischievous glint dancing in his eye. Mirabel's gaze lingered on the picture before she tucked it safely in a pocket.

"Well, hermano," Rafael said, "I was wondering when you'd work up this kind of courage."

Carlos winked. "Watch and learn, Rafi. Watch and learn."

"So it's official?" Isla clapped her hands. "You two are a couple?"

"Couple?" Mirabel chuckled. "I prefer soulmates."

Carlos nodded, planting a deep smooch to her cheek, which got his brother to shield his eyes and the little girl to gasp. "Agreed. 'Soulmates' sounds much more… poetic."

Mirabel's heart skipped a beat. "But please don't tell anyone else yet, okay?"

He frowned. "No?"

She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat. "Carlos, I love you, but what if… what if we'll be pulled apart?"

"Then I'll find my way back to you. Always."

"What if we aren't allowed to be together? To be… in love with each other?"

"Why wouldn't we be? You said Mariano is to ask for Isabela's hand soon, and I may not be a Guzmán, but we're related. Even if I weren't related to Mariano, why?"

She shrugged helplessly. "Mi abuela… I don't want you to feel the pressure I - my family - do… To be perfect, to always be strong. I despise hiding something so big from them, hiding you, but… can we wait a little? Figure things out as we go?"

He sighed, tucking her head against his cheek. "Okay, if that's what you want. Maybe you're right. We'll see."

Mirabel turned to the kids. "Please, guys. I know such a secret is hard to keep, but do it for us. Por favor."

Isla and Rafael eyed each other before nodding.

"Could you come down with us, please?" Isla beseeched them, clasping her hands together. "It feels a little lonely without you."

The teenagers grinned. "We wouldn't miss any opportunities to entertain you," Carlos spoke, then glanced at the girl still in his arms. "Right, novia?"

Mirabel's heart fluttered at the new nickname, and she dragged him out of the room, their hands intertwined, her smile matching the liveliness of the kids' laughter.