Chapter Text
She doesn’t know whether to decide if it's a blessing or a curse, so she chose to consider it as both.
"Of all times to get sick, why now?" Her mother tutted, gently pushing some strands away from her face. Adria sheepishly smiled as her Mamá wipes some of the sweat off her skin. "Should we ask for some food from Julieta?"
"Ma, no," she shook her head with a whine. She ignored her Mamá’s suspicious glare. "It's just a fever, it'll go away as long as I take a rest. There's no need to bother her. I'm pretty sure she's already busy with other people who need her more."
Her mother's suspicion is washed away with understanding, sighing as her fingers brush through Adria’s hair. "You're right, you're right," she nodded. "But still, we're supposed to visit the Casa Madrigal to measure the youngest Madrigal for his ceremony clothes today..."
"You can go, Mamá," she tried not to cough. The older woman might think she’s pretending even if she’s not. "It's just measurements, right? I'll be better the time we start on the embroidery, don't worry."
She heard her Mamá sigh, hesitation still evident in the way she combs Adria’s hair.
"Ma, I'll be fine."
She sighed again, "Alright, if you say so."
When her mother left to go to the Casa Madrigal, Adria tried not to grin and get herself caught by her older brother. It's not like she’s trying hard to hide it; she hates going out of the house. People tend to overwhelm her. She hates the noise and the ruckus. She tends to hide away in her room whenever there are visitors. Her behavior would’ve been such a big deal (more than it already is) if not for her father who’s the same.
“I still think you got yourself sick on purpose,” her brother, Julio, said as he places a cup of warm tea on her side table. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Por favor, hermano, do shut up,” she told him as she looks up from fiddling with her lightweight blanket. “It’s not like I have a gift that would instantly make me sick.”
“Yes, but you’re smart,” he gave her a look that makes her feel insulted even though he technically complimented her.
She huffed, “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s a bad thing because a fifteen years old should be out and making friends with other people,” he hummed. Adria bristled.
“I have friends.”
He glanced at her, “You mean Elena?” He asked, his tone amused.
“What’s wrong with Elena?” She frowned, always ready to defend her (only) friend.
Her brother shook his head, making his way towards the door of her room, “Nothing’s wrong with Elena, but I think she would want you to talk to others aside from her.”
When her mother arrived from the Casa Madrigal, she has a basket full of Señora Julieta’s arepa con queso with her. Adria willingly came along the next time her mother has to visit the Madrigals.
“Welcome to the Casita,” Julieta Madrigal said along with a warm smile as Adria and her mother enter the house. “It’s been a long time since I last saw you, Adria! You’ve grown into a young lady.”
“I think the last time you’ve seen her was when she’s still nine,” Jacqueline, Adria’s mother, chuckled.
Adria smiled, not knowing what to say. She was nine years old when she started to stay more inside the house instead of playing with the other kids, leading it up to studying at home instead of going to the school everyone else was going to.
That year was probably the ugliest one for her. There were days when she would throw a tantrum, not wanting to go out. Said tantrums would lead to scolding from Mamá that would make her cry so hard she couldn’t breathe, thus making her unable to go to school.
It took an interrogation from Julio and a confession to her parents for her to go home-schooling instead. She said that her classmates weren’t really nice to her (it didn’t help the fact that her father’s a teacher and was just teaching in the next room) and that she wasn’t really happy.
That last thing probably cemented the deal and six years later, Adria is a fifteen years old girl who doesn’t even know the faces of her neighbors, much to her Abuela’s chagrin and Julio’s amusement.
Her father’s a teacher and has the patience of a saint, which helps Adria a lot when she’s studying on her own. Elena gives her stories she would have experienced herself if only she has the courage to go out and meet people. Julio says the wisest things most of the time. Her Mamá taught her how to sew, cook, and clean. Adria’s happy with how her life is.
“Hola, Señora Julieta,” she greeted. “Thank you for the arepa con queso, I feel so much better after eating them.”
The older woman’s brows raised in surprise, “That was a whole basket of arepa con queso.”
“Oh, don’t worry, amiga. She saved enough for the rest of us.” Her mother laughed, patting Adria’s arm.
She blushed when she finally realized what Julieta meant. She didn’t finish all of it! She actually just managed to snag three pieces because she pulled the ‘I’m sick’ card to her family. Good God, does Julieta think she’s a pig now? What the hell, what the hell, what the hell…
“Mija! Adria! Toñito’s here now!”
“Coming, Ma!”
Adria lets out a big sigh before patting her cheeks. She didn’t realize she was left alone in the courtyard. Julieta and Jacqueline are already in the kitchen, with Antonio who’s probably waiting for her.
When she entered the kitchen, she saw several things at once.
First, it was Luisa, because she’s the tallest. She’s also carrying bags of flour, prompting Adria to scrunch her nose just in case the strong Madrigal would put the sacks down. No one needs to see her having a sneezing fit right now.
Second, Isabela. Isabela, who’s conjuring flowers left to right. Isabela, who’s walking towards Adria right now. Isabela, who currently reeks of flowers and is covered in it as well from head to toe. Isabela, who shoots her an elegant smile before leaving the kitchen.
“Hola,” Antonio, the youngest Madrigal, greeted her shyly. He’s the third thing she saw before—
“ACHOO!”
“Adria!”
“Bless you, darling,” Julieta’s warm hand rubbed her back as she’s guided to one of the chairs. “That’s one big sneeze there.”
“I, uh, I’m,” her voice is nasally and her nose and throat are starting to feel clogged. “I don’t think flowers like me.”
She heard her mother’s amused laugh before a weathered hand gives her an arepa con queso. Adria looked and saw Julieta smiling at her, “Here.”
Adria sighed in gratitude, “Thank you,”
“Luisa! The donkeys!”
“I have to go, Ma. Someone asked me to help with the donkeys,” Luisa said to her mother, dusting her hands off of flour and dust.
“Again?” Julieta frowned.
Luisa just smiled before leaving. Adria could only watch as Julieta shakes her head with a worried look on her face.
“Has anybody seen my Toñito?!”
Adria jumped when she heard thunder booming, quickly turning towards the window only to see the sky clear and blue. “Wha…”
“Pepa, Antonio is right here,” the appointed cook and healer of the Madrigals replied, wiping her hands with a cloth. She took another arepa con queso and quickly handed it to her twin sister who barreled into the kitchen. “Calm down. Adria can’t do her job if there’s a thunderstorm here, hm?”
“Adria? Who’s Adria?” Pepa frowned, the cloud above her disappearing as soon as she takes a bite of her sister’s food.
“Ay,” Julieta sighed, shaking her head. “Jacqueline’s daughter? At the same age as Camilo and Mirabel? Wait, is she younger than them?” she turned to her friend, who nodded. “Adria, my sister Pepa. Pepa, Adria. I heard from Jacqueline that she’s very good with sewing.”
“And mostly the one who’s going to make Toñito’s clothes,” Adria bit her lip in order not to smile too wide when her mother hugged her. “I actually do errands for her.”
“Ma,” she whined good-naturedly.
“Oh!” Pepa beamed. Adria blinked as a rainbow appeared behind the woman. “Good! I want things to be perfect for Toñito’s night.”
Adria smiled, pulling out samples of fabric they have stocked in their house, “Here. I want to know what kind of cloth Antonio prefers—I recommend not choosing thick or heavy fabrics. It might be colder at night, but it’s still a party and there’ll be a lot of people.” She noticed the kid stiffening. “We don’t want him to faint because of overheating.”
Pepa nodded, already immersed in caressing some of the fabrics. Those she deemed acceptable were handed to Antonio, who either keeps it in his hand or puts it on the table. Adria made notes.
Beside Pepa is her husband, Felix, who is very charming and amicable according to her mother. She thought it’s a good match, watching as Pepa started to get frustrated with choosing combinations for Antonio’s ceremony clothes while her husband would soothingly calm her with words and touches.
Dolores and Mirabel helped with choosing as well after they’re done with their own chores. Dolores was a bit odd, though Adria thinks the noise she makes after she speaks was cute. Mirabel was friendly and bright, a big smile always on her face as she talks to Adria about which better yarn is to use or which better color is to use to correspond with Antonio’s clothes.
“You can stay for dinner,” Julieta offered as Adria and her mother started to tidy up to leave.
“Oh, it’s fine, it’s fine,” her mother quickly answered. Adria focused on arranging the fabric samples before putting them into her bag. “Alejandro and Julio might be at home now waiting for dinner. They’re probably exhausted dealing with their students all day.”
They left the house with a basket full of not just arepa con queso, but empanadas as well along with aborrajados. “Papá and hermano will be cheered up,” Adria said, linking her arm with her mother’s. She ignored her disapproving look when she pulled her scarf up above her head, hiding most of her face. “Like literally.”
“Oh, don’t worry, mija. They still love your cooking.”
“He’s not entirely wrong, you know,”
Adria looked up from her embroidery, a frown forming on her face, “What? Who?”
“Your brother?” Elena raises a brow at her, prompting the introvert to do the same. “Don’t get me wrong, I like talking to you and you are a dear friend of mine but—and this is a well-meaning but—I would want you to have other friends than me. I don’t think it’s rather healthy especially for people our age to only talk to one other person aside from their family. Most of the time, you’re probably lonely.”
“I like having alone time, Elena,” she rolls her eyes.
“I know you do, it’s just that I think it wouldn’t hurt you to have more friends.”
“If I have more friends, it’ll be hard to maintain them. And I wouldn’t have enough time for you.”
“Don’t pull that on me. We both know that you’re better at managing your time. Besides, I didn’t mean a lot more friends. You could start small. Let’s say, a boy—”
“No.”
“You need to work more on your social life,” Elena groaned. “Okay, maybe not a boy, but another girl. Just please try. Isn’t Antonio’s ceremony soon? You should start there. Tell people our age you made Antonio’s ceremony clothes. They’ll be impressed.”
“Of course, they will be, do you think making clothes is easy?”
Elena ran a palm across her face. Adria winced. This’ll be hard.
“Hola!”
“Hola,” Adria smiled at Antonio, beckoning him to come closer. He obliged, shooting her a crooked grin as she asked him, “Is there anything wrong with your clothes? I can fix it.”
“It’s perfect! It fits me!”
“That’s so nice to hear,” she told him, instinctively patting one of his cheeks. Elena always says she has a soft side for children, especially endearing ones, despite her insisting that she doesn’t like them. She doesn’t hate them, no, but she’s not exactly fond of them either. They’re not exactly the quiet sort. “You look dashing.”
He lets out a shy smile, making her inwardly gush. Sweet, sweet child. “Thank you.”
“You should go out now. I think your family’s looking for you.” She stood up, wincing when her knees made a noise. She needs to move more instead of just sitting around in the house. Adria almost didn’t see the conflicted look on the boy’s face. “Is there something wrong? Is there something I need to fix?”
“No, señorita, it’s, uh,” he looked down on the wooden floor. “Can I stay here for now?”
She blinked. Well, she’s not exactly permitted to give him permission for whatever for. After all, he’s the one who lives here and not her. “You can do whatever you want, darling. It’s your day today.”
He smiled, making Adria do the same. It’s just the two of them in the nursery (and she tries not to eye Mirabel’s side of the room, it seems she does embroidery, hm) so she feels it’s okay to let loose a little.
The soft moment is ruined when a tile suddenly nudged her foot, making her squeal. The seats near the bay window shuddered, indicating that Casita is laughing at her reaction. Adria almost let out something probably offensive but then stopped. One, there’s a kid right in front of her, and two, she might get kicked out by a sentient house.
She bit her lip instead.
“It looks like Casita wants me to leave now,” she said, crouching down again. Thankfully, her knees didn’t make a cracking sound. “I’ll be waiting outside along with the others, while you get yourself ready, hm?”
He nodded, “Thank you.”
Adria tapped his nose with a grin, making him giggle. She waved at him before exiting the room, the grin leaving her face. The kid is obviously nervous but she doesn’t know to help him with it. Adria is not a Madrigal and she’s not exactly the best at giving advice. The best choice for her is to shut up and act like there’s nothing wrong.
She sighed, rubbing her temples. She had to wake up so early in the morning to make everything perfect. Dealing with Antonio’s mother was a bit overwhelming. If only not for her husband, the Casita would end up in a hurricane mess – and she’s not even exaggerating.
Adria turned left instead of right, shooting a look at the door where lots of pink flowers are. It’s the oldest Madrigal grandchild’s door, Isabela. She thinks her power is nice and all, but flowers make her nose feel itchy. She doesn’t need a sneezing fit right now.
She passed by Dolores’ door. She stares at the glowing lines, feeling a bit put out by how… distraught Dolores looks on the drawing. Her brows are furrowed down, her eyes blown wide. Her gift is enhanced hearing, which probably makes her life difficult. Adria then remembered that she’s the sort to blurt something out without thinking much and she likes to talk to herself…
She quickly walks away.
The next door was Camilo’s. Camilo, who is said to be the same age as her. The only Madrigal she hasn’t seen yet (aside from Bruno, but no one talks about him). Adria already met his parents and his siblings, even his cousins. It must be because he’s always out doing his own errands when Adria comes over for Antonio’s clothes preparation. It would have been impossible, not meeting him yet despite living in the same town, but Adria has spent the majority of her fifteen years staying inside her home.
She didn’t realize she was staring at his door until it opened, revealing a boy with curly hair and golden skin.
She quickly looked up after five seconds, realizing she’s not staring at the mischievous-looking drawing of Camilo Madrigal’s face anymore. Instead—
Green eyes blinked at her.
She blinked back.
He blinked again.
She blinked back again.
“Hola—”
“Adios,” she said, her purple skirt twirling as she turns away and walk. Fast.
“Wait—”
“Camilo! The guests are coming!”
“Okay, Abuela!”
Adria could feel his eyes on her as she quickly goes downstairs. Thankfully, she didn’t bump into other people. She saw some kids getting too rowdy on the staircase earlier, they’re probably ushered away by the adults.
“Mija, there you are!” her mother said with a relieved sigh. “Where have you been?”
“I checked on Antonio,” she murmured, her heart still beating too fast. That was too sudden. Why didn’t she realize sooner that she was standing right in front of his door? Why was she so focused on looking at the details and—Dios Mio, did she accidentally stare at his crotch?! She was staring at his door! Not his crotch! Mierda, mierda, mierda, mierda, mierda—
GOOD LORD, WHAT IF HE THINKS SHE’S STARING AT HIS CROTCH?!
“ADRIA!”
“HUH? Huh? Huh…?”
“Mija,” her mother quickly leans her forehead against hers. “Mija, are you okay?”
“I, uh, yes…?”
“Amor, I think she’s stressed,” her father remarked, his brows furrowed as he rubs his thumb against her cheek. “Mija, I think you should take a rest. Your job is done now. Just relax.”
“Oh… yeah, maybe I should.” She nodded, feeling her brother’s hand slipping into hers. “I think I need some air.”
“And you will get some,” Julio assured, pulling her outside via the patio area. Adria tried not to squirm as she makes skin contact with other people, choosing to tighten her hold on her brother’s hand instead to tell him to hurry up. “You’re really not good with crowds.” He told her as soon as they’re far from the house and the people.
“You’ve been keeping up with me for the majority of your life. You don’t need to point it out,” she grumbled, pouting her lips when her brother took off his ruana and placed it on the ground, gesturing for her to sit. “Your ruana will get dirty.”
“Then wash it for me as payback,”
She grumbled again but obliges. Her brother followed, letting out a big sigh as soon as he sits down.
“Okay, now what’s got you panicking?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me, we both know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve been keeping up with you for the majority of my life, remember, hermanita? I know when you’re panicking. So are our parents, but they don’t want to make a ruckus inside because they know you’ll hate the attention. Now tell me.”
She groaned, burying her face into her hands. “First party I ever attended and I think I already embarrassed myself.”
“That’s a good starter. And it’s not your first party. You actually attended Camilo’s, also Mirabel’s.”
“It doesn’t matter. I still embarrassed myself.”
“And how?”
“Dios Mio, hermano, I don’t think I can live anymore.”