Worth

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The other adults noticed that Bruno and I weren't super physical with each other. Now knowing how anxious he was in regards to physical touch, I only initiated contact if he leaned towards me or moved his hand so it was close enough for me to touch.

We danced around each other and it was noticeable. Even Alma eyed us with worry. I began to really focus in on a goal for myself, and as I thought about what I wanted I created a list.

I wanted to be outside in the sunlight as much as possible. I wanted to place my focus on things I enjoyed, like playing music for the kids. I wanted to eventually figure myself out sufficiently so I could be with Bruno again. That was the kicker. Bruno.

We had been airing out the issues with him in the walls for ten years. I could tell it helped him immensely, just explaining himself and what he went through. Yet, every day I felt more and more guilty. He lived through ten birthdays, watching his hermanas enjoy themselves and celebrate their oneness, the fact that they would never be separated. He listened to the kids plot when they would see me next, or what I was up to. He watched as they grew up. The only reminders that he was even a part of the family being the whispers from the stories I told the kids. It broke me even more every time he closed an entry with 'I love you' or 'I hope you look to our constellation'.

Maybe Alma was right, I am too selfless of a woman, because I wouldn't take my own advice. I wasn't going to tell him how bad it hurt to hear the entries. It was hypocritical, but it helped Bruno figure himself out, even if every word, entry, and well wish for me made my stomach turn. Sometimes I would wish I also had ten years of journal entries. I wanted to share with him every thought I had while he was gone from me.

I couldn't, though. I knew how broken he was and how his self pity, like mine, ate at him. So I would ask my questions and try and give a vague idea of my life at the time of the entry. He didn't really ask for me to elaborate. He never did, and I was so unsure if it was because he thought the memories hurt me, or if he was so focused on healing himself that he just forgot. Even if I just wanted him to ask, I put those feelings aside. Hearing my problems very well could have put him back to square one, where I still stood, unsure of how to heal a lifetime of hurt.

Deep down I knew that my refusal to communicate was going to backfire. I just didn't know when, or how.

During the two months I labored over the blueprints, one day Pepa decided to haul me out of the house. The woman nearly carried me out as Bruno gave an apologetic look at me, with a shrug.

"What? Where are we going?" I asked her confused as I was dragged through my doorway.

"When was the last time you got new clothes?" She asked, looking at me with an eyebrow raised in challenge to whatever I would say next.

"I don't know? A few years ago?" I said as Pepa shook her head.

"That blouse is the same one you wore to dinner twelve years ago, and you cannot tell me otherwise. Do you see how thin it has become?" She asked pinching the fabric between her fingers.

"Maybe it is, but I don't really need new clothes, the ones I have fit." I said with a shrug and she tisked and shook her head.

"Where has your money been going for ten years?"

"Umm," I looked at the ground, "The kids."

Pepa paused and let go of my arm turning slowly towards me. "Explain."

"Dolores needs beads, as do I so I have had to double expenses at the glassblower. Camilo's paints and supplies, Mira's embroidery threads and needles, plus fabric, I try and get Luisa books to enjoy, along with Antonio. Isa's powder pigments, not to mention lunches for the kids and everything."

I Would Have You In My Dreams Forevermore (Bruno Madrigal x female reader)Where stories live. Discover now