𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐀 𝐌. 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

I Won't Say I'm In Love II

CTTO: mxssromanoff

pairing/s; isabela x fem!reader

warning/s; language, mentions of death, not proofread

wordcount; 2.5k

"Isabela, mija."

The dark-skinned beauty immediately turned to her mother holding a pair of ripped pants, presumably from her father, with a smile on her face, having just walked downstairs that morning. "Yes, mama?"

"Can you please fetch me the sewing kit from the L/N's? Your sister forgot to bring it home again."

Isabela's smile faltered as she let out an awkward laugh. "Can you repeat that again? I'm pretty sure I just heard you say—"

"I did mean the L/N's, Isa," her mother gave her an apologetic smile. Isabela wasn't one to back away from any of her mother's requests but...

"How about Mirabel?" she suggested.

"She went to run some errands for your abuela."

"Dolores?"

"She has a date with Mariano," her mother replied.

Isabela tried to keep her smile even. Who goes on a date at 8am in the morning!?

"Camilo?"

Her mother shrugged her shoulders.

"Luisa?"

"She's busy with the village."

"Busy!?" she exclaimed. It was supposed to be her sister's day off!

Her mother sighed. "If you can't do it, it's fine."

Oh no, she was using that tone. Isabela had always hated that tone—the one where her mother sounded sad and defeated that made a crashing wave of guilt wash over her and seep through her bones.

But no, no she was absolutely not going to relent. She did not want to see your face, not when her tia Pepa was particularly happy that morning.

-

You woke up with the worst headache of your life—and no, it wasn't in the form of your longtime rival, you woke up with a literal headache accompanied by colds, a fever, and everything feeling like burning sandpaper against your skin.

You wished you hadn't convinced your papi to leave for work and played your sickness off as nothing more than the common cold because it wasn't and it's only gotten worse since then.

You lay cocooned in layers and layers of blankets on the couch, hugging the old stuffed toy your late papa gave you. It was the only comfort you had at the moment as you patiently waited for Mirabel's arrival, though you were quite certain she wasn't going to arrive until two hours later.

For the meantime, you could just doze off.

Except the moment you closed your eyes, a series of impatient knocks erupted from the front door.

Groaning, you rolled and fell towards the floor before standing up on your feet, shrugging off the extra blankets on your shoulders and made your way to the door, clutching the only single blanket you had on closer to your body.

The knocks didn't stop, growing even more impatient with every passing second and each one sending your head in a frenzy of throbbing pain.

You wanted nothing more than to strangle whoever was on the other side of the door and you were sure it wasn't your apprentice. Mirabel would have walked in unannounced like she owned the house.