Change the future part 4
Part 1
a/n: A year after the last chapter! I know, I have no shame, I'm so sorry, but I hope someone reads this, haha.
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"Mom, are the aunties mad at me?"
Pepa was glad she didn't have her gift, because there was no way she wouldn't have unleashed a terrible storm with that simple, yet complicated, question from her youngest son.
She could see that Antonio was truly sorry and scared, that his little shoulders bore a guilt that shouldn't be there, and that she and Félix felt unable to erase, no matter how hard they tried.
"No, Toñito" she tried to smile "None of your aunts are mad at you, no one is" she promised. "They're just…confused"
The redhead knew her words weren't much comfort to her baby, but she really couldn't offer more. After all, confusion was the only word that could be applied to the family's current situation: confusion and terrible despair.
Since the candle returned, things had changed. There was a promise, a hope of recovering the magic, the gifts, but the price of the miracle was too high, too painful, too permanent.
It had been discussed at a tense and uncomfortable dinner, right after figuring out what was required to relight the candle, and no matter how many suggestions, ideas, and alternatives were thrown around, the truth was that everyone knew no one could make that decision but you and Julieta.
The problem was that none of you were willing to pay that kind of price.
Neither of you had even spoken at dinner; you offered no solutions, not even your thoughts on the matter, just a silence filled with guilt, regret, pain, fear, and anguish… and yet, Pepa swore she saw a spark, almost invisible but still present, of longing in her older sister's eyes as she left the table and went to her room in silence.
That damned room that everyone was beginning to hate.
Not that there was anything wrong with it; her sister's room was still cozy, warm, and inviting, as it always had been, even in the magic's absence. The thing was, Julieta had locked herself in there, with no signs of wanting to leave her self-imposed prison.
Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. The eldest triplet did go out every day to cook and take care of certain things, like bills, grocery lists, expenses, and savings.
Now that they didn't have their powers, they had to earn a living like anyone else, and with the recent reconstruction, the truth was that, although they weren't really in financial trouble, the smartest thing to do was to start having a fixed savings plan and manage it well before it became a problem. It wasn't unusual to find Julieta sitting at the kitchen table with an open notebook, jotting down numbers and things.
But that fire that had protected and kept everyone warm was gone. She no longer danced with her daughters, no longer played with Antonio, no longer joked with Pepa, no longer sat listening to Joaquín and María's stories. And definitely, she no longer spoke to you.
In fact, it was impossible for you to be in the same room alone together; there always had to be someone else, and even if the family tried (and they had), there was no way to trap you together. The two of you were always running away before you could even breathe the same air for a minute without any additional company. And it was driving everyone crazy.
Because the longer Julieta locked herself in her room, the more she left them all adrift, and no one knew what to do. As magical as they were, the Madrigals were always a family of structure, specifically a matriarchy. They needed a leader, someone to follow, someone strong and who would take their hands to guide them when they couldn't do it alone.
Alma had been a tyrant, too focused on her image, a need for control, and internal fear. She had ruled with an iron fist, harsh, and merciless. She was a leader no one had asked for, the one no one had the freedom to choose, yet she had kept them together for 50 years and two generations.
Julieta had been a leader of love, of patience, of kindness, a leader who cared and looked after everyone's needs, not just her own, who had stepped up when they needed her most, and had freed them from the previous regime. She was the leader they had chosen, the one they had decided to trust. But now she was leaving them alone, and everyone was falling apart without her.
"I miss when tía had the answers" Antonio whispered
Pepa could only hug him tighter. She couldn't promise him everything would be okay soon, not anymore. The time for tentative promises of comfort was over; now all she could do was to try to protect and pray that her older sister would come to her senses soon.
The redhead was no fool, she was more than aware that she wouldn't be able to take charge, even if she tried. Even without clouds hanging over her head, she had never learned to control her anxiety (Julieta had told her it was because she was forced to hide it instead of working on it), and the time her mother tried to force her into the mold her sister had left only proved what she had always known: she was strong and determined, but only as a support, not as a leader.
Of course, no one wanted or thought leaving the grandchildren in charge was a good idea, and they themselves were afraid of taking control, despite the forced smiles Dolores and Isabela tried to pass off as confidence.
Camilo, Mirabel, Antonio, Joaquín, and María were too young, and they had decided to leave Luisa alone, despite her being more responsible. God knew the poor girl had already suffered enough being abused by the town; she deserved to enjoy her youth without any more burdens.
Bruno wasn't an option either, both because of his own anxiety, which rivaled, and often surpassed, Pepa's, and because, well, he'd spent years off the scene, and he didn't yet have the confidence to even express ideas out loud, much less attempt to direct. Besides, he was part of the love triangle that fate had decided to play so cruelly with.
Alma was completely out of the question. Despite all the stress, uncertainty, discomfort, confusion, and feeling of abandonment that pervaded them, there was an unspoken agreement in all their hearts: no one wanted the tyrant back. They preferred to succumb to the weight of uncertainty, but free, than to return to the yoke.
That left you and Félix. But you… well, you had done nothing but try to help however you could, without getting close to Julieta or Bruno. You'd decided it was best to keep your distance from both of them, until your head stopped spinning, or your heart stopped talking, whichever happened first (neither, not really).
When rebuilding Casita, they'd subconsciously done it the same way it was before. Almost the same rooms, in the same position. The only changes were that Joaquín and María now had their own rooms, and Julieta's room was now in the center, where Alma's had been in the previous Casita.
Unfortunately, you hadn't really thought about where you would sleep. When Bruno left, you simply continued using his room until the night you left with your children and Mirabel. In the house you were lent while rebuilding, you'd shared a room with Joaquín and María, sometimes with Julieta when the children wanted to have sleepovers with their cousins and you were banished from the room.
Now, you had neither of those options. Your children were clearly with the rest of the family, trying to force you to choose (who? You weren't sure yet). You couldn't sleep with Bruno, because despite slowly rebuilding your friendship with him, and the affection that clearly still existed, there was no way not to feel uncomfortable with the current situation, and it was obvious why you wouldn't turn to Julieta.
There was simply no easy way to have a conversation about sleeping arrangements with your estranged husband and pretend everything was fine, when the miracle, a magic beyond the control of either of you, clearly demanded that you kiss your own sister-in-law and wanted to pair you up with her.
So you had simply moved in with Mirabel in her room (no one was going to call it "nursery" anymore), and you left in the mornings after breakfast to work in the fields, paint houses, sew clothes, or whatever odd jobs you could find to help with the economy.
Again, they weren't really bankrupt by any means, but no one said anything, because everyone knew you just needed an excuse to avoid facing the enormous weight of the unlit candle that remained hidden somewhere in Julieta's room.
But "understanding" didn't make it any less difficult for everyone. Félix didn't have enough hands, composture or time to handle everything, everyone was on edge, there were conflicting emotions everywhere, and the tension only grew.
The only thing that was clear to everyone, though, whas that they needed Julieta back on the reins. And to do that, they had to make you both resolve this. By fair means or foul.
