In the last effort to be herself within a handful of days with small actions. Isabela has sent her wonderful bouquets of flowers to the potter she has admired for a time, anonymously of course. Hoping that it will blossom into something more despite...
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𝓗𝓮𝓻 𝓦𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 ✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*
"And that's where you're wrong."
Dolores Madrigal, cousin of Isabela and the sister of Camilo. If you haven't heard which you should've, she has the ability to hear from miles away. May it be gossip, a pin drop, or heartbeats. There are even times where people and even her have considered that her power is more of a curse than it is a gift. Just imagine being able to hear the whole town at once, the condition is stressful. But there are times where it is handy like in this situation.
"I heard everything," she smiled looking at her cousin, "And I want in! In whatever this is," she added, waving her hands in an effort to communicate whatever shenanigans Camilo and Isabela are in. Where in which both of the two were baffled as to how Dolores just appeared right beside them.
"Wait, what do you mean by 'she's wrong'?" Camilo asked, using his thumb to point to the oldest of them.
Dolores grinned. Dolores knows a lot about you, given that she has been your friend for as long as you can remember. Sometimes you even claimed longer than when your growing adoration for her older cousin started. She told you her secrets and in exchange you told yours to her, which is why she knows that you like Isabela and her flowers, as to the same reason why you are aware of her infatuation for Mariano.
With all the spilled secrets that there are between the both of you, you and your friend agreed that these shan't be revealed to anyone, especially details concerning each other's admiration. And with Dolores' loyalty chips betting on you, she can only reveal much to help Isabela. She just knows how much she's going to love the two of you blossom into a lovely mess.
"Isa's wrong, because Y/n's really fond of your flowers, especially your daisies. She told me once that you grew too many roses and symmetrical vines, that she thinks your daisies are special. And if you ask me that doesn't seem like something to say when you don't like the person, does it?"
"She likes my daisies?" Isabela repeated with wide eyes, blushing. She has never ever blushed before despite all the flattering things that men had told her, despite all the "you're pretty" and "you're beautiful" compliments she gets, her cheeks never got hot like this. Fortunately for her, she had beautiful dark skin making her flushed appearance unnoticeable.
"She really does. I also came to tell you that Abuela has this big news to announce once the both of you reach home so I think it's best that we get going." Dolores added as she starts trekking towards la casa Madrigal.
Bad news, malas noticias in Spanish. It may either be a person or thing that is regarded as unpleasant, unlucky, or undesirable. And whatever came out of Abuela's mouth was nothing but unpleasant, unlucky, and undesirable for Isabela.
"You're going to be familiar with Mariano Guzman, as he will be your future husband in a few weeks time."
Isabela is now in a predicament. She knew that keeping up with the I'm-the-perfect-child act would cause some rough bumps in her life, but she never knew that it would appear this early. She didn't even know that the said 'bump' would be the size of a hill.
There were already factors in her life that could be described as ruined because of the standards her Abuela had set for her to keep up with, standards that she followed faithfully. One of which is one that she actually treasured. Her and her youngest sister's relationship. Earlier she and her 15 year old sister were close, but as soon as the both of them became jealous of one another's position in the family, their relationship became full of distaste. Not only that but Isabela never had the chance to actually express herself or be herself for the matter. She will always put her family and her reputation first no matter what, for that is what she believes she's supposed to do.
Is it what I'm supposed to do? Isabela ponders as her eyes wander the flowery ceiling of her room, laying down on the soft mattress of her bed lifted from the ground by her vines. She never imagined that at the start of 21 she will live a life that would be conducted not by her wanting but by what she believes she's obliged to want. To be married to a man and to bear children in order to keep the family's miracle alive. She never imagined that the same hands she used to blossom her wonderful roses were the same ones to grow shrubs of thorns on the path of her life as she grasps the calloused hands of a man she doesn't love in front of the altar.
Whimpers are heard across her bedroom as she mutters the mantra her aunt says. "Clear skies, clear skies." she repeats as warm tears roll down the coldness of her cheeks. She says it as though she wants to reckon that she is fine even though this situation isn't compared to anything she has gone through before.
"Clear skies, clear skies," for the nth time she said, combing through her hair. Everything is dawning on her, once she follows what her Abuela will say then she'll be assured that her Abuela will be happy, her family will be happy. The only difference now is that back then what's on the line is only a speck of her life, but now the expense is its entirety. If the scenario was on a balance scale it seems like she's offering more and tipping it, but to the eyes of many they see it even, symmetrical.
A knock on her door broke through the noise of her crying, it opened as she tried to fix herself up, wiping the tears from her eyes and cheeks. She hears shuffles and footsteps coming towards her bed as she lowers it down.
"Who is it? What do you need?" she asked, attempting to reflect at least a spark of joy in her greeting, trying to hide the hoarse voice that resulted from all her weeping.
