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You could tell yourself that it had been nearly ten years since you thought about him. You could tell yourself that the ring you wore around your neck didn’t burn you every day. Pretend you didn’t see him every day.
You could.
But it would be a lie.
And now, there he was, standing in front of you, one hand outstretched to help you up. He’d always been so kind.
“Papá, ¿estás bien?” A tiny voice popped up, off to your right where you’d pushed him when you’d seen a figure running around the corner. A figure that was staring at you, hand still out. A figure that was turning towards that voice. You were on your feet in an instant, standing between the child and the man.
“Estoy bien, mijo,” you said, slightly breathless from hitting the ground. “Can you pick up the groceries please?” And from the corner of your eye you saw him move to do so, chasing down a papaya that had rolled away. Which gave you the chance to grab one, Bruno Madrigal by the front of the ruana. He shrank under your gaze, hands coming up in surrender but brown eyes darting to the child, your child.
“Uh, hola Y/N,” he said. Really? Ten years and all you get is an ‘hola’? You shove him, the voice. That same soft voice, the same green ruana. The same man. The same man that just vanished before you could even tell him about the baby. The same man you’d married. The same man you’d wondered about for ten years.
“Papaya!” Your kid popped up between you, holding the papaya aloft like a trophy, other groceries in his arms. Bruno recoiled, brown eyes looking between you and Arturo, looking at Arturo’s curly hair and freckles and back to your own face. You smile at Arturo, putting your hands on his shoulders and steering him away from the man, the ring around your neck burning.
“Papaya, mijo. Now, let’s go home, tus primas are waiting!” You got one last look at Bruno over Arturo’s hair before ushering your son away.
—
Señora Madrigal hadn’t kicked you out when Bruno vanished. In fact, she and his sisters had insisted you stick around. The two of you had been married already so it wasn’t a far stretch and there was no reason for the family to abandon you and Arturo just because Bruno abandoned them. So you got to stay. Bruno’s room wasn’t too hospitable so you’d taken to sleeping on the couch which got switched to a bed. Arturo and Mirabel shared the nursery until Arturo got his gift. Life was fine. Life was good. You didn’t need Bruno because he’d never been there.
But now he was back. You’d known what you’d seen. The man you’d loved for years. The man you’d married in a blizzard. The father of your child was alive and well and apparently running around the Encanto. You couldn’t sleep. You grabbed the family picture from one of Antonio’s birthdays and slipped out of the house. Dolores might have heard but she’d been a little sadder recently, less engaged with the family. It didn’t matter anyway.
You walked and walked. All the way to the mountains behind Casita, and into an all too familiar cave. A fire was already lit. Burning and casting the stone in light. And huddled by it, facing the cave mouth was Bruno. You wanted to shout. Wanted to scream. Wanted to punch him in the face and demand he apologize to Arturo for never being there. But instead you felt your knees give out and you just stared.
“Y/N,” he said, but stopped, he hadn’t moved from the fire. Just, a pair of eyes reflecting the flame, so different from how he looked when he had his visions.
“He’s ten years old,” you said at last. You wondered if he’d ever had visions about you while he was gone. “His gift makes him bouncy, he never gets hurt any more,” you laughed, looking at the family picture. “He used to get hurt a lot,” you whispered. In the picture he was smiling, pulling Camilo and Mirabel into a hug while Mirabel was attempting to pick up a wiggling Antonio. Isabela and Dolores were posing next to Luisa, Isabela mid eye roll at her sister. Pepa and Félix were smiling at each other. Julieta was watching the kids. Abuela had a calming hand on your shoulder and Agustín was looking at Isabela. Abuela didn’t like how busy the picture was, but you loved it. Loved this family.
“What’s his name?” You looked up, Bruno had shifted closer, now the fire was behind him and his face was in darkness and you wondered what had happened to the man you’d married. He didn’t deserve to know.
“Why are you back?” Why did you leave? How could you do this? How dare you come back? Did you ever miss us, me? Did- You stopped, looking at him. Looking into his eyes, because you had to understand. He’d straightened, every muscle tensing in a way you’d never seen before. His jaw was set. His hands didn’t fidget. Maybe you were wrong, maybe this wasn’t the man you’d married.
“I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to leave you. I-”
“WHY are you back?” He recoiled at the steel in your voice; the facade cracking for a moment and he was the same anxious man you’d loved for years.
“Mi familia is broken, Y/N.” He moved away, you watched him pace around the cave, shadows dancing on the walls. “They-they think that miracle is… well the miracle is bad. La familia is bad. And, I have to stop them.” He looked you in the eye.
“No, Bruno tu familia is good, they do good. What’re you talking about? What’re you doing? What-”
“Y/N, open your eyes!” He snapped. You stopped talking. He had his fists balled, staring at the wall. “Mamá hated Mirabel for not having a gift! Mi familia shouldn’t have a miracle! What did we do to deserve one? We’re killing ourselves for something we shouldn’t have! Abre los ojos, Y/N. I have to stop them!” At some point you’d gotten up, you’d walked towards him. You were the same height so you could look him in the eye. The firelight casting half your faces into shadow as you shoved the picture into his arms. He fumbled with it, barely catching it as you advanced.
“I don’t want to hear it! You abandoned la familia! You abandoned tu hijo! You don’t know anything about us anymore!” With each exclamation you shoved him until his back hit the wall. His eyes were wide, looking at you like he couldn’t recognize you. Good, because you could barely recognize him.
“The miracle is a curse and has to be stopped, Y/N,” he said softly, looking down, the photograph still in his hand. You snarled, no. No. No. No. He couldn’t just vanish and rise from the dead a decade later to destroy the familia. He didn’t have the right.
“I know you hate your gift. I know the people in town haven’t always been nice to you. I know tu mamá doesn’t always say the right thing. But tu familia is good. They took me and mi hijo in when you abandoned us! They gave us a home! They protected us! ¡Mi hijo tiene un don! And you won’t take that away from him! He never had you, but having a gift is the next best thing,” you said. Bruno looked startled, glancing for the first time at the picture in his hands.
“A gift?”
“A gift.” He started shaking his head, shoving the picture back in your hands, wiping tears from his eyes and turning away. Again.
“Lo siento, Y/N. But this doesn’t change anything. The miracle must die.”