Chapter Text
Mariano and Isabela have been unofficially/officially courting for roughly five years at this point.
They’re finally old enough for marriage to begin being discussed seriously.
There’s talk of an upcoming proposal, though the when has yet to be set.
Isabela suggested waiting until after Antonio’s ceremony and Abuela thankfully agreed.
Isabela felt like she was suffocating. Like she was being buried alive.
She thought she could grow to like Mariano.
They had been good friends and she knew he was conventionally attractive.
She allowed other people to write the narrative of her life and let them tell her how good her relationship was.
No one else shared any of her doubts, her concerns, her fears, and she had no idea how to even begin to bring them up. Not in the beginning and certainly not now years in.
How can she possibly admit that she has never seen Mariano that way? Never felt any romantic feelings about him?
How can she possibly admit that she is nothing like what they think?
She thought she was like Mirabel, able to like both men and women.
But now, she knows that that’s not her truth. She's tried so hard, with the seemingly perfect man, but she doesn't love him. Her eyes still drift to other girls.
But what she wants doesn’t matter.
She isn’t Mirabel.
She’s the oldest and has a duty to the family and a duty to the Encanto.
Isabela steeled her nerves before exiting her room to join the familia for dinner.
Senorita Perfecta.
At least I can drop this at the sleepover.
At least I can count on Lores not to bring up the engagement.
Dinner was a subdued affair, tensions rising by the day in la casa Madrigal as Antonio’s birthday got closer, just a few weeks to go now.
Dolores and Isabela were having their monthly sleepover that night.
They had just gotten set up with chocolate con queso and had been talking about their book of the month, an idea Dolores had proposed, when exactly the thing Isabela had been hoping to escape was brought up.
“Hey Isa, can I ask you something? And please be honest?"
Isabela nods.
"Are– do you really want to marry Mariano?”
Dolores set her mug down, leaning forward to grab her prima’s hands.
Isabela felt her eyes widen and her heart speed up at the question.
This was unprecedented!
Sleepovers were sacred time for them!
Never boy talk!
Never the need for Senorita Perfecta!
In the span of fifteen seconds Isabela had schooled her features into the mask she wears daily. She hates herself for it.
Isabela let out a laugh that she had perfected during her years of being perfect. It sounded completely sincere with none of the empty hollowness she felt overtaking her. The role of Senorita Perfecta is one she can slip back into easily.
She gave her cousin the same answer she had been giving her mother, “Dolores, I don’t know if you remember me talking to every guy our age in town when we were teens, but Mariano is the one for me.” Isabela gulped, the lies burning in her throat.
“You know, Camilo always jokes that a botanist is going to get lost in the mountains and we’ll bond over the plants” she wiggles her fingers over Dolores on that last part, conjuring flower petals to rain down on her. Instead of the laughter she was expecting, Dolores just sits up and—in a look remarkably resembling Tia Pepa—stares expectantly at Isabela.
Isabela can feel her chest tighten as she sits up too, keeping the forced smile that she hopes still looks real on her face.
The girls both just look at one another, one serious, one smiling but scared.
Her pending nuptials were still fresh enough that no one brought it up to her with anything but excitement. She wasn’t exactly sure what to do, even though...this is Dolores.
Her absolute best friend.
She shouldn’t be scared.
She should just tell her prima the truth.
Admit to being a fraud.
But.
Things in their house and in the Encanto were progressing.
Moving forward.
And she’s supposed to be leading the charge. Setting the good example.
She didn’t want to upset the delicate balance of their home, things were on edge enough with concerns about whether Antonio would get a gift. And while she logically knew that her family, excluding Abuela, would have absolutely no problem with her breaking things off, it didn’t ease her mind.
For one, there was always the “Abuela'' of it all. She really didn’t know how she would react. Accept it? Understand that Mariano is nice, but he’s not for her. Or will that be the straw that breaks the camel's back? Put the family at risk?
Secondly, if she was nervous for Abuela's reaction to her not liking Mariano, she was beyond terrified of Abuela's reaction to her not liking men.
She accepted their neighbors and even Mirabel when Mirabel told her at her quince, but Mirabel wasn't the oldest.
She wasn't the "perfect flower", the golden child, the one expected to carry on the family name, to start the next generation and soon.
And Mirabel still actually liked men, even though Isabela knows that's not how it works and not a fair way to rationalize, since Mirabel won't actually choose who she loves, but Isabela also knows that is the thought process Abuela has.
Abuela was already not the best to Mirabel, so her treatment didn't change. Isabela didn't know if she could handle damaging her relationship with her grandmother all because she can't get over herself.
Everyone can see how great Mariano is, so why can't she get herself to feel it?
Why can't she get herself to love him?
Thirdly, she knew Tio Bruno saw her get the life of her dreams, but what a dream life looks like in a vision rarely reflects reality.
She had resigned herself to the idea that the vision showed the “dream life” expected of her.
She's long assumed that the perfect act she could put on was what made her Tio think the vision was positive. That the things her Abuela wanted for her would be Isabela’s dream too because she perfected her fake smile.
A thought clicks in her head.
“Do you— Do you think that when Tio Bruno said that the life of my dreams would be mine he really meant my dreams? The life that I want?”
The question comes out a lot softer than she had intended, but Dolores hears her just fine. Her features soften from her expecting stare to a look of concern and a little bit of sadness.
For the first time ever, Isabela lets herself consider a different interpretation of the vision.
Before he left, Tío Bruno very rarely let anyone see the visions they asked for, relaying the message and slate instead, and when she asked him to look at hers it was no different. No amount of pouting changed his mind.
So when he said the life of her dreams was promised, she assumed her future and chance at a perfect life was in the hands of the promisor. Isabela thought that promisor would be some kind of fate, or maybe just Abuela, which is why she tried so hard with Mariano.
It was only now, more than a decade later, that Isabela is realizing her future might be a lot more in her hands than she thought.
A hopeful voice finds its way to the front of her thoughts, maybe you really can have it all, maybe you—, she feels hands grabbing hers, pulling her up into a hug.
“He absolutely meant the life you want. Your dreams will come true.” Tears spring to her eyes. She hugs her prima back and can’t help but feel ridiculous. Dolores doesn’t even know what the problem is and she still knows exactly what to say.