Strangling Vines

Chapter 3: Like the Grapes That Thrive on the Vine

Three months later... 

Isabela knew there was something wrong with her, more than a cold or a fever. She developed the alarming sensation of roots planting themselves inside her lungs and gradually stretching out, making it hard to breathe regularly. Over time the cough got more frequent, sometimes causing flower petals to force themselves out of her mouth. Her body would lose its strength so easily that her parents and sisters insisted on her staying home. She was now the cause for concern, and it made her heart heavy with shameful anger. Her mother couldn’t cook up a healing meal, Romona Sandrias didn’t have a natural remedy that could cure her, and no amount of rest would make Isabela feel refreshed or the ache in her chest disappear. She was convinced that this was a cruel joke played by the miracle to send karma her way. 

Apparently spitting petals was punishment for her past behavior. 

Taking in the stillness of the house, she wandered through the hall, observing the framed portraits of the Sandrias family. She couldn’t help but put herself in the pictures, imagining what it would be like to be a part of a family where expectations weren’t as heavy, where she didn’t have to be flawless. A part of her felt envious, neither Maya nor her younger brother Ignacio were burdened with the demands of a magical family in authority. Maybe that’s another reason Isabela felt resentment towards Maya back then, a similar reason for her resenting Mirabel. It was stupid, and she knew that. 

Romona Sandrias worked just as hard as Julieta, being a traditional nurse with the burden of baring children as her husband worked, abuela Nichola and abuelo Manuel had to endure the trauma of fleeing their home, Maya was the oldest just like Isabela, meant to be the role model for the younger generations. 

She is so beautiful. 

Isabela thought, gazing at a single portrait of Maya on her most recent birthday. Her heart began to flutter with adoration and her stomach filled with a hurricane of butterflies. Involuntarily, she smiled wide, and warmth washed over her cheeks. She felt like a child, fawning over a crush from afar. This feeling triggered a physical pain in her chest that made her cough violently. The odd thing about her ailment was that it made it harder to be around Maya, let alone look at a picture of her. Even though the other symptoms were present around consistently, the coughing and creeping blossoms tormented her more frequently when she was around the one person she was dying to be with. 

Maybe she’s sick too. 

She pondered, letting the small white petals tumble out of her mouth and into her hands. The roots stretched further, pushing a stem into her throat just for her to gulp it back down. 

Through the sound of her lungs rattling, she heard a repetitive knock on a doorframe beside her. 

“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock on wood.” 

A man with a tattered green rauna muttered before throwing a handful of salt over his shoulder. 

Isabela glanced at her tío Bruno, forgetting that he stayed to keep her company. She didn’t remember much about her uncle other than his strange habits, reclusive nature, and the prophecy he gave to her before he left. She remembered her excitement as a sandstorm whirled around them, neon green flashes of scenery that matched the breathtaking yet unsettling glow in his eyes. She saw the exact thing she didn’t want to see, betrothed to a man she didn’t love with children she didn’t want. Knowing that her uncle was troubled even from an early age, she pretended to be happy. She wondered though if that really was how things were going to be.