Unveiled Truth
Rosa knew that alerting her family would be no use. If she were to find out what happened to her cousin, then the only way to do so was on her own, even if that meant keeping her family concerned for a while longer.
Miguel was her family, and there was a big chance that he was in trouble. With every moment she wasted, the greater his well-being was at risk.
She berated herself for lacking precaution and not asking Ernesto to give them the blessings at the same time. The thought of Miguel being alone with the musician felt like a nightmare.
…to play music… and to perform as much as you like.
She had to break one of the conditions in order to be transferred back to the Land of the Dead.
Only… the conditions expressed two of her greatest desires. How could she possibly wish not to play music or perform?
She had to force herself to despise music somehow. She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples and concentrating.
Never mention that man! He's better off forgotten!
Music separates people…
It will take you away from us…
Music had torn our family apart!
De la Cruz only loves that we're musically talented, he doesn't love us.
Rosa racked her brains trying to convince herself with the words. She opened her eyes, realising that she was still in the same place. Whipping to clutch Ernesto's guitar, the sensation of it in her hands was eerie.
Only thinking about music as a bad thing wasn't going to do much. She needed physical proof of her hatred towards it.
Her breathing became shallow, aware that her plan might fail, knowing that if she was discovered, she'd face grave consequences. She let out a shaky exhale, drowning out the merry sounds coming from the celebrations, even the racing of her own heart.
She was unable to believe what she was about to do… Chagrin and heartbreak intesified the longer her fingers were in contact with the icy surface of the instrument. The guitar that had been in perfect condition for a century… was about to be brought to pieces by the very great-great granddaughter of its owner…
What a waste of heritage…
What a shame on the person who could think of doing such a thing, let alone actually having the guts to carry it out…
Her primo had wanted to steal the guitar; she had to break it…
She tried shaking the thoughts away.
It will be okay…
This is for Miguel, this is for my family…
Hanging her head, she heaved the instrument, then shoved it towards the ground, bracing herself for the inevitable collision.
I'LL NEVER PLAY MUSIC AGAIN!
In the heat of the moment, right before the guitar would have been smashed, she managed to get herself to believe the words she despised, the words she couldn't have imagined she'd ever truly consider true about herself, but desperation and extreme angst had played their part. She felt a bit of pressure in her arm when the guitar collided with the floor, off-putting splinters echoing in her ears like drums and a few shards of wood scratching her ankles. She still thanked the stars, for the damage had been small.
In the span of a split moment, Rosa was engulfed in a sea of cempasúchil. The last thing she heard in the Living World was the twang of what was left of the prized instrument and the jolly sounds of the celebrations.
She awoke in the party hall of de la Cruz's mansion and combed her surroundings, being met with vacancy. The room was exuding that unsettling feeling of hollowness again.
Where was Miguel? What had transpired with him and de la Cruz while she'd been missing? Maybe he'd taken her primo to the Sunrise Spectacular? Or worse… He wanted to keep Miguel as his own…
Her body spasmed violently. If the musician refused to give Miguel the blessing, there was no way that Miguel could reach Mamá Imelda, and that meant…
Be positive, Rosa!
A light bulb suddenly went on.
Dolores… She had to find Dolores. The actress was her sole chance.
Before she would have dashed up the spiral staircase, something stood out in the corner of her eye.
A brown shoe…
In five strides, Rosa was near it, studying it in her hands. Unmistakably, it was one of Miguel's boots. Her heartbeat sped up. If her cousin had left it there on purpose, then it was a sign that he was in trouble, and perhaps he'd been able to presume that she'd get cursed again to search for him.
Crossing herself, Rosa took the flight of stairs in a wild rush, barging through the heavy doors of the balcony. She searched the mansion room by room, garden by garden.
Empty…
Empty…
Empty…
She reached the parlour, her thoughts and heartbeat out of control.
Please don't let it be too late…
Her arrival ignited shock amongst the celebrities who were still at the residence, their conversations coming to a halt. She squeaked a greeting and an apology before bolting to the couch where Dolores del Río was seated with a glass of deep red wine in her hand, which she quickly set onto a tiny table when noticing the girl sprinting towards her with terrified eyes.
"Take it easy, chiquita," she said when Rosa all but fell at the foot of the sofa, breathless. "What's wrong?"
Rosa sucked in a breath, "It's my cousin! He's in danger… Can you help me?"
By this point, the entire room had ears.
"Why are you saying that?"
"De la Cruz was supposed to send both of us home, but Miguel didn't arrive."
The murmurs got tumultuous, but she didn't care. Dolores was speechless for a minute.
"And if you're wondering how I know something happened to him, here's the proof!" She held the shoe above her head before anyone could question her theory, inflaming gasps around her. "If this isn't enough proof that mi primo is in danger, then I don't know what is."
María Félix raised her forefinger, "I've seen Ernesto head to his show, but Miguel wasn't with him."
"Come, Rosa!" Dolores ushered her out the door. "I know a way to help you."
She led the girl outside, where she whistled sonorously. In no time, a blue and red patterned pegasus descended the sky, landing gracefully in front of them.
The young Rivera took a few minutes to admire the mythical creature. It had glowing irises and a long smooth mane. Both its tail and mane were beautifully braided.
Dolores approached her alebrije, "Rosa, this is Shania. She's my trustworthy companion, and she's saved me multiple times from danger's clutches. I have no doubt that she'll find your cousin."
Rosa extended her arm to stroke Shania's forehead. Only when she'd been little had she dreamt about riding a pegasus, thanks to the fairy tales she'd loved to read every night before bedtime. Shania's red nostrils flared as they took in her scent. She craned her neck to the fake flower on Rosa's headband, making her giggle.
The girl elevated the shoe for the mare to sniff, and the pupils of the creature narrowed. Her head jerked up, eyeing something they couldn't see in the distance.
"Get on, chica. Time is running out on us," Dolores said and Rosa complied immediately, placing her foot on the hoof that Shania offered her to hop onto her back.
"You're not coming?" she asked the actress. She felt a bit reluctant to leave the person who had encouraged her and was currently lending her a much needed hand. Maybe she disliked Ernesto, but Dolores del Río had done more for her than de la Cruz could ever have.
The woman smiled warmly, her hand cupping the girl's cheek. Rosa leaned into the touch, unable to ignore how motherly it was. She could have sworn that Dolores's eyes were glinting, even though she was uncertain whether or not skeletons could cry.
"I trust you, Rosa. I have faith you'll find Miguel and make your dreams come true. Now go! Shania will return on her own."
With heartfelt emotion, the pre-teen grinned, "Thank you for everything!"
She let go of the actress' bony hand, feeling like something was being ripped from her chest at the good-bye she hadn't known she wasn't ready for. Shania whinnied and took off with lightning speed, but Rosa's head remained turned to the waving hand and bright smile of the actress.
She only turned to look ahead when all that she could make out of her new-found friend was only a tiny red spot on the stairs at the back of the mansion. She adjusted her glasses. The wind was whipping her face, but she didn't care. She was holding tightly onto the alebrije, its marvellous glittering wings tickling her legs when they flapped. Beneath them, the resplendent city was continuing its partying without a worry about the tragedy that the two living kids could have to deal with should fate not be on their side.
Rosa exhaled. Only hours before, she'd had no idea what this night had reserved for her, Miguel and the dead Riveras (about whose existence she'd been uncertain until encountering them).
Wrath built up inside her. How could de la Cruz have done this? If Miguel really was in the sinkhole that they were nearing with every flap of wings, then she would find a way to get de la Cruz arrested for attempted murder since he knew that Miguel was at risk of losing his life in a couple of hours.
Rosa shuddered at the sudden drop in temperature, pulling the sides of her sweater closer. She disembarked Shania, stepping onto the relatively smooth surface of the large stones.
Just then, loud gritos echoed from the walls of the cenote, startling her with relieved joy. She rushed to peer down into the sinkhole, and she noticed clear water beneath, and on a strip of land beside it…
"Miguel! Héctor!" she called cheerfully, waving at them, her voice filling the cavity.
"Rosa!" Miguel called back and even from such a big distance, she caught sight of his smile glistening in the moonlight while Héctor was looking at her with wide hopeful eyes.
"Hold on, I'm coming!"
As soon as Miguel scrambled out of the icy water and received no response to his desperate yelling for help, the reality of his situation dawned upon him with crushing speed.
He was alone.
In a cenote.
In a world he didn't even know.
Where nobody would find him. At least not in time.
Hurled away by his own relative, his great-great grandfather, his idol. Better said, former idol. How could he have trusted de la Cruz so blindly? He'd loved the man with his entire being, and had looked up to him since childhood.
That had been in vain. He wanted to tear his hair at the realisation of all the lies he'd been fed ever since he'd first discovered Ernesto.
All his dreams came crashing down, his hopes shattered once light had been shone upon the illusion he'd been living under his whole life.
He'd never understood how a human being could kill another human being. What had made de la Cruz carry out those more than repellent deeds? Miguel was uncertain whether or not he wished to find out the truth. It had been about Héctor's songs, but no person just decides to murder somebody - especially their supposed best friend - overnight. What had driven him? Rage? Envy? Selfishness? Pure cruelty?
Miguel caught the last bits of water out and brushed his soaked hair out of his face. His socked right foot flinched upwards when it brushed the freezing surface of the stones beneath.
Shuddering, he allowed himself to slide down to his knees. The sight of his transparent skin and revealed bones was a terrifying reminder of his own foolishness, lack of precaution and stubbornness. If only he'd gone back home and listened to Mamá Imelda, or his living family…
His living family… He'd hurt them so greatly, disappointed them so badly he didn't bring himself to aspire for their acceptance or forgiveness. He was the oddity, the black sheep, the failure of the Rivera clan…
And Rosa… He'd dragged her along and her love for him had made her listen to his decisions without opposition… She'd been right on that night atop the roof, when she'd given up on music because she'd chosen family.
At least she was safe now, at home with their family. He hadn't entirely failed her… She'd get to tell what happened to the family, but there was a big question mark whether they'd take her word for it or not. And there was nothing she could do to return. Unless… she'd somehow manage to break one of the conditions which de la Cruz had joined to his blessing. Yet Miguel knew his cousin, knew how deeply she loved music and performing. She'd never be able to break the conditions, and even if she would, how would she find him here, in a cenote on the outskirts of the Land of the Dead?
He didn't want to delude himself with unfeasible scenarios only for his hopes to be blasted later.
He would never be able to believe that music was a curse, but that the curse… was him. Causing his family so much distress… His papá, who'd actually tried preventing the breaking of his guitar; his mamá, who would bring another life in their family in less than three months; his abuelita, who'd tried so desperately to protect her family at all costs; his great-great grandmother, who had been chasing him down the whole night; his prima, who had been wise from the start and capable of seeing the truly important things in life, whom he'd shunned for months; and all the others…
Sobs took over him, his figure slumping onto the icy rocks, their top grazing his cheek. He barely felt the tears that rolled down.
To say that the thought of having his life ripped away from him was racking his soul would have been an understatement. He suddenly clutched his chest, a pain like no other slashing through his body. Something similar to a blade was twisting into his wounds, digging further into his heart with every disconcerting detail which he berated himself with. A sword of hopelessness, of anguish, of contrition, decorated with the last words he'd spoken to his loved ones - I don't wanna be in this family!
He hadn't been grateful for the loving family he'd been blessed to have, and now he'd meet his demise alone, away from them. He had never imagined how his death would be, but this was certainly not what he would've ever thought about.
He'd never get to see his baby sister, never get to apologise for his naivety, his wrongdoings, the words he hadn't meant, never let his family know how much he loved them…
And Héctor… He'd also wanted what was best for him, he'd attempted so hard to keep him and Rosa safe and sound throughout the night. The way he'd pleaded with Miguel to put up his photo, his desperation now hurt Miguel because of how selfish and indifferent he'd been towards their guide, when Héctor had been so kind to them and had taught them so many things throughout the night.
Just when he thought he was about to choke, stumbling footsteps reached his ears, and he jolted to his feet, not knowing exactly why he was scared.
His eyes watered when they landed on Héctor. It might've been his blurry eyesight, but the skeleton looked a lot weaker now than before, while his bones seemed to be even more faded.
Miguel wept, "H-Héctor?"
"Kid?"
The man's eyes went wide. He staggered to get up as the boy rushed into his arms, and he stumbled backwards from the force that hugged him.
"You were right," Miguel sniffled. "I should have gone back to my family…"
Héctor reached out to him, "Hey, chamaco, it's alright."
"But I didn't listen. I told them I didn't care if they remembered me… I didn't care if I was on their stupid ofrenda… And then I ran away…"
Héctor pulled him to his chest, one of his hands rubbing his back while the other one kept his head tucked under his chin.
"Hey, chamaco, it's okay… It's okay…"
Miguel shivered at the memories that overwhelmed him. "I told them I didn't care." He sobbed, his strangled sounds shattering Héctor's heart.
"They must hate me now. They'll never forgive me."
A gentle finger lifted his chin, and he met a pair of warm eyes and a smile.
"Never think that, Miguel. Your family loves you. And love forgives. Always."
Miguel found it really hard to believe him, but let himself be comforted as much as the circumstances allowed. After all, if death was knocking on his door, why not try to latch onto whatever bits of joy and hope in his last moments of life?
Rosa practically plunged down on the rocky surface before Shania even had the chance to make a proper landing, her arms widely open. She barely had time to take a step when Miguel nearly knocked her over; she didn't mind his wet clothes and hair as she embraced him back with equal force.
"I thought I'd never find you…" she whispered, silently thanking heaven.
"But you did," he pulled away to study her flushed cheeks. "You came for me…"
"I will always come for you. That's what family does."
When Miguel sniffled, she added with a twinkle, "Don't get all emotional now. You'll make me cry too."
"Sorry," he wiped his eyes, grinning.
She gave him his shoe. "Here, I think you left this for me to find."
"Oh, yeah, I did. I knew you'd figure things out. As you always do." He winked before donning the shoe.
They parted, Rosa coming face to face with Héctor, who had patiently been waiting for them to have their moment before approaching.
It might've been the fact that she was starting to feel the effects of exhaustion, but it seemed to her that he was gazing at her differently now. There was fondness in his eyes, coupled with so much warmth, the way her papá would eye her whenever he felt proud of her or simply when he wanted to display his infinite love.
Before she could say anything, Miguel spoke up, "Prima, there's something you gotta know."
"What is it?"
He breathed in, also regarding the skeleton. "De la Cruz isn't our grandfather… Héctor is."
Rosa blinked. "¿Qué?"
Miguel took out Imelda's ofrenda photo, handing it to her and gesturing to the faceless musician with his index finger.
"This isn't de la Cruz, as I thought. It's Héctor. He is Mamá Imelda's husband and Mamá Coco's father."
Agape, Rosa examined the man in front of her with wary eyes. This night had already been overwhelming enough, but now…
Héctor gave her a crooked nervous smile, and that was when she first noticed that his grin was identical to Miguel's.
After passing her cousin the photo, she mumbled, "How did you come to this conclusion? I mean, the photo alone can't prove anything."
"Right after you got your blessing, Héctor found us, de la Cruz and I. He implored me to put his photo up, but de la Cruz took it before I could."
"Ernesto and I were best friends when we were alive," Héctor completed. "But he didn't listen to me."
Miguel rubbed the back of his neck. "Then… Let's just say that Héctor had a revelation and…"
He glanced at their new-found relative, not sure if he ought to proceed. The skeleton nodded slowly.
"Ernesto murdered me," he whispered, his eyes darkening for several beats, the words like bile in his mouth.
Rosa just stared at them, her head turning from one to the other, tongue-tied. Her train of thought was interrupted by the sight of Héctor's bones shimmering with golden flashes. Panic installed within her and she hurried to support him alongside her primo before he would've collapsed.
"When did this start to happen?"
"A few minutes ago," answered Miguel as they helped their grandfather sit down on the rocks and knelt beside him.
Héctor sighed in defeat, "It's Coco. She's forgetting me."
The way he'd mentioned her name opened something in Rosa's heart; the doors that enclosed her trust and kept it safe were shattered by the evidence of this man's profound love for his daughter. That was when the threads of the bond between her and Héctor commenced weaving, her sympathy for him enhancing.
It all made sense. Mamá Coco was suffering from Alzheimer's disease, thus the memory of her long-gone father was misty.
"Is she the last person who remembers you?" she inquired, knowing yet not wishing to hear the response.
"Sí… I never got to see Coco in the Living World, but I always hoped that maybe one day, I'll see her here. Give her the biggest hug." Héctor smiled, his mind astray in fantasies.
Rosa couldn't picture it; the skeleton who had taken them both under his wing, who had helped them so much, dissipating into dust… She attempted to quell the ache taking over her soul.
"She calls you sometimes," Miguel broke the silence.
"She does?" Héctor's head jolted up, his eyes large.
"It's true," she bolstered. "Although I don't think she's ever said your name out loud, she sometimes confuses you with tío Enrique - Miguel's father - or asks when you're coming home."
Joy and grief mingled on Héctor's face. He covered his eyes.
"Coco… My Coco… I caused her and Imelda so much pain. I've never been able to apologise, to tell either of them how much I've been missing them, how badly I wanted to return home…" He looked up at his descendants, his voice drowning in anguish. "And you… Because of my mistakes, you were put through so much, and everyone before you as well… Lo siento, mijos…" He let his skull drop in his hand.
They communicated through a single glance, and scooted closer to wrap their arms around his frame. Héctor froze for a moment before returning the embrace.
"We love you, Papá Héctor." Miguel murmured. "Right, prima?"
She nodded. "Por supuesto. Now we know that you wanted to return. We understand…"
Every time he was called papá, something expanded in Héctor's chest. The assurances warmed this soul; after decades of failure, woe, loneliness and rage, he felt loved. Not judged. Maybe Rosa and Miguel were just kids, they might not entirely understand the consequences of his actions, but being accepted for once, with more or less forgiveness, was heavenly.
They stayed like that for what seemed like forever, and breaking the hug was tough. Héctor's eyes shifted from one descendant to the other, a loving smile on his bony features.
Miguel brightened up. "Will you sing your version of "Remember Me" to her too, Papá Héctor?"
"Of course, mijo."
Rosa scowled. "Wait, your version? You mean…"
"De la Cruz never wrote any songs, prima."
"I wrote "Remember Me" for Coco. It was her lullaby, and we used to sing it together every night, even when we were apart," Héctor confessed, unwilling to dwell on the truth Miguel had said.
He began singing in a low gentle voice. The lyrics were the same, but if someone asked her, Rosa would have said that a shrouding veil had been removed from her eyes; she viewed the song, its meaning, its message, with different eyes now. It had clearly been composed for a purpose that Ernesto had uglily morphed into entirely something else.
By the time Héctor finished, both her and Miguel were awestruck in silence.
She struggled to find the right words. "That was so… so… heart-felt and… wonderful."
Even those words seemed to underestimate the beauty, the power the lullaby had to evoke deep feelings.
"This isn't fair! You deserved a long life, Papá Héctor," she voiced, desolate.
"Fate is out of our control, mija." He stroked her hair and attempted a smile, which was painfully weak. The children in front of him were a reminder that he'd missed Coco's entire life, that he could've been there for her, for Imelda, for all their descendants if only he hadn't left in the first place.
"Honestly, I'm proud to be your family!" Rosa strongly stated, also grateful to have and be descended from such a loving, driven and caring person. The fact that he had never meant to leave his family behind lifted a weight off of her heart.
"Me, too!" Miguel joined her at once.
Héctor grinned, his despondency assuaged. He pulled them into his arms.
"And I couldn't have asked for more amazing grandchildren!"
"Oh, just you wait, you don't have only us as great-great grandchildren!" the boy smiled, and the skeleton's eyes bugged out.
Before he could question something about his other relatives, a familiar howl echoed from afar, and Dante appeared on the edge of the sinkhole. Relief had never felt so great. Miguel cheered before Pepita with Imelda on her back landed beside the dog, the alebrije roaring loud enough for the cenote to shake, droplets of water falling down from its ceiling.
Imelda chuckled, but her grin vanished when she noticed her estranged husband. Venom coloured her tone, "Héctor…"
He clutched his right wrist, grinning nervously. "Imelda! You look good."
While Pepita descended into the cenote, Rosa turned to the pegasus.
"¡Muchas gracias, Shania!" She rested her forehead on the head of the alebrije; Shania whinnied in response, her muzzle travelling over the girl's face playfully before taking to the sky back to her owner.
Imelda hugged her grandchildren as they climbed onto Pepita.
"I was so worried, mijos. Thank goodness we found you in time!"
Rosa expected to be rebuked, but the reproachful words never came.
Imelda frowned at Héctor, who was still on the ground.
"Get on before I change my mind!" she used her authoritative tone, and he complied instantly, marching towards the tail of the alebrije.
"Oh, no! You're staying anywhere you like but the tail, Papá Héctor!" Rosa dragged him towards Pepita's back; although reluctant, he didn't argue. "You never know when those recurring flashes will hit you again."
"Flashes?" Imelda asked in disbelief before comprehension struck her. She gasped, eyeing her husband with the saddest look he'd seen on her face ever since their first encounter in the Land of the Dead, which hadn't been a good one.
Imelda scowled in resolution after a couple of moments. "¡Vámonos, Pepita! We need to get back to the others."
Roaring, the jaguar took off, exiting the sinkhole with admirable speed, flying higher with every flap of wings. Héctor screeched at the height.
Miguel laughed as he scratched Dante behind the ears, his clothes drying up.
"Dante! You knew he was our Papá Héctor the whole time! You are a real spirit guide!"
Imelda grinned at them over her shoulder, pleased to see them happy.
"I guess he's not as dumb as I thought, after all," smiled his cousin, not refraining from rubbing the dog's back. She didn't flinch away when he licked her hand.
Vibrant colours started spreading out from Dante's paws across his hairless skin, causing him to bite his legs in fear; the transformation was complete with the appearance of some small wings on his back.
Dante barked friskily, his sloppy tongue hanging out of his mouth. He leaped into the air, only to plunge towards the ground a moment later. Both kids yelled after him, Miguel reaching a futile hand in his direction. Their worries vanished when the now-alebrije dog appeared behind them, actually flying.
Before long, Pepita neared a small rooftop plaza, where the rest of the Riveras were anxiously waiting for their arrival. They called out excitedly when noticing their approach.
Once the huge alebrije landed, Miguel and Rosa were met with a rain of hugs and kisses, each of their relatives letting out praises to the heavens or sighs of relief.
Héctor only watched the scene with fond eyes despite his confusion at the realisation that the foreign skeletons were his family as well. He clumsily tumbled down from Pepita, putting all his bones back in place and offering his arm to Imelda to help her. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, getting off on the other side, hugging her grandchildren one more time.
Héctor clutched his straw hat between his fidgeting fingers, keeping a respectable distance from the group he was mostly unfamiliar with. The other Riveras were staring quizzically at him, except for Óscar and Felipe.
Imelda let go of Miguel and Rosa, turning to her husband with a fierce glower.
"And you… How many times must I turn you away?"
"Imelda…" he tried to speak.
But she wouldn't hear any of his pleas, just like many times before.
"I want nothing to do with you! Not in life, not in death! I spent decades protecting my family from your mistakes! They spend five minutes with you and I have to fish them out of a sinkhole!"
Miguel stepped between her and Héctor, Rosa strengthening the wall of defence for their grandfather.
"We weren't in there because of Héctor. He was in there because of me and only me. Rosa had no part in this."
"But I'm to blame too," she boldly added, unafraid to admit her faults. "We ran away from Papá Héctor when he was just trying to look out for us."
Imelda didn't seem to like the word "papá" when it was attributed to her estranged husband, the evidence being the deepening of her scowl.
"He was just trying to get us home…" Miguel proceeded. "We didn't listen, but he was right… Nothing is more important than family."
The matriarch was flabbergasted, unable to believe that he who had abandoned his family could have said such a thing, while the rest of the family shared her emotion.
The look on Miguel's face as he spoke the last words was nothing but pure content. Rosa's heart swelled, but a part of her delight lessened as the yet unspoken words that she could feel in the air were about to surface. Through eye-contact, Miguel asked if she was alright with what he had to say next; she nodded, now fully convinced that the balance between music and family would always slope in favour of the latter.
Her primo continued, "We're ready to accept your blessing. And your conditions. But first, we need to find de la Cruz to get Héctor's photo…"
"What?" Imelda scowled.
"...so he can see Coco again," Rosa let her know.
Unwavering, Miguel went on, "Héctor should be on our ofrenda, he's part of our family!"
Héctor's heart grew to see them stand up for him, despite his shame and intense guilt.
"He left this family!" Imelda angrily pointed at him.
Her courage heightening, Rosa didn't back down, "He tried to go home to you and Coco, but de la Cruz murdered him!"
Rosita gasped, Victoria's eyes widened, Óscar and Felipe covered their mouths while Julio became rigid. Even Pepita and Dante looked upset.
Imelda herself seemed to be unable to accept the icy, disheartening truth.
"It's true, Imelda," Héctor said.
She shook her head, sending daggers his way as her anguished rage returned, "And so what if it's true? You leave me alone with a child to raise, and I'm just supposed to forgive you?"
She was on the brink of breaking down, and Héctor noticed, reaching out to her. "Imelda, I…"
Another golden shimmer made him fall to his knees, his living grandchildren immediately rushing to his sides.
The entire family was astonished all over again. Imelda was still getting shaken up by the sight, even if she already knew what kind of danger he was in.
Héctor sighed dejectedly, "I'm running out of time. It's Coco."
Truly concerned and still in disbelief, his wife shook her head imperceptibly, "She's forgetting you…"
"You don't have to forgive him, but we shouldn't forget him," Miguel remarked as he and Rosa helped their ancestor to his feet and supported him.
Imelda sighed, "I wanted to forget you, Héctor. I wanted Coco to forget you too, but…"
Héctor placed a hand over his chest. "This is my fault, not yours. I'm sorry, Imelda…"
After mere moments of quietness and tense waiting, Imelda composed herself.
"Rosa, Miguel, if we help you get his photo… will you return home? No more music?"
The cousins eyed each other in one last silent agreement, each of them holding one of Héctor's hands while theirs were intertwined together.
"We will agree to the blessings no matter what conditions you choose," Rosa promised calmly.
"Because family comes first," Miguel completed with certainty.
Héctor smiled down at them while Imelda seemed satisfied. She focused back on him with sorrow.
"I… I can't forgive you."
Héctor lowered his head, his hope defeated.
"But I will help you." She smiled with determination, turning to her grandchildren. "So, how do we get to de la Cruz?"
Miguel smirked, Rosa mimicking his gesture.
"We might know a way..."
A/N:
Thank you so much for reading!