What if alma had four kids instead of three what if that child happened to be her favorite just like the way she was with Isabela, what if someone in the family was jealous of it and tried to ruin their relationship with alma read to find out
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~~~~~~ October 17, 1900 ~~~~~~
The village echoed with the symphony of childbirth as Alma Madrigal, a woman of twenty-five years, brought her last child into the world. She was pregnant with triplets, having already given birth to one of her children.
Pedro Madrigal, her husband, stood by her side, holding her hand as she labored to bring their third child into the world.
"Almost there, Mrs. Madrigal," the attending lady encouraged, "just one more push, and the baby is almost here."
With a final exertion, the room filled with the cries of a newborn.
"You did it, Alma," Pedro exhaled with relief as he cradled his daughter.
"Now one more baby, and you're finally done," Alma nodded, summoning her strength for another round of pushing.
Twenty minutes later, the nurse held up the third child, a baby boy, cleaning him before placing him in Alma's arms.
"He's perfect," Alma beamed.
"Yes, he sure is," Pedro agreed, gazing at his son with wonder.
"What should we name them?" Alma asked, already holding their daughters.
"Well, that one with the orange hair, her name could be Pepa," Pedro suggested, earning a smile from Alma.
"And the other girl could be named Julieta," Alma added.
"And our son?" Pedro inquired.
"Bruno," Alma decided.
"Pepa, Julieta, and Bruno Madrigal," Pedro repeated, "I love it. It has a ring to it."
"They're perfect," Alma agreed, but her joy was short-lived as another wave of pain gripped her.
"Alma, are you okay?" Pedro asked, concern etching his features.
"She's having another baby," the nurse announced, preparing for Alma's next push.
"I thought it was only three," Alma said incredulously.
"I guess it's one more," Pedro murmured as Alma screamed in agony.
After one final push, another baby girl joined their family, her cries filling the room.
"She is so beautiful," Alma whispered through tears.
"She looks exactly like you, except she has my mother's eyes," Pedro observed, his heart swelling with love.
"They are going to be so spoiled," Alma smiled through her tears, savoring the moment.
But their happiness was shattered by a deafening boom outside. They looked out the window to see men on horseback, burning down houses and killing indiscriminately.
"We have to go," the nurse urged, hastily packing their belongings.
"Alma, are you sure you can run?" Pedro asked, his worry evident.
"Of course, I can," Alma assured him, determination in her voice, "I'll manage."
Gathering their children, the Madrigals fled into the woods, urging others to follow. But their escape was cut short as they heard the thunder of hooves approaching.
"We're getting closer," Pedro urged, guiding his family through the dense foliage.
Then, in a moment of selfless bravery, Pedro made a decision.
"I'll try to hold them off so you guys can run," he declared.
"Pedro, no!" Alma cried, but it was too late. With a kiss for his babies, Pedro ran towards the danger.
Alma watched in horror as he fell, a gunshot ringing out. She screamed, her heart shattering as she collapsed to the ground.
But amidst the chaos, a strange light appeared, and the woods shifted, concealing the river.
Alma, clutching her candle, stumbled forward, her gaze fixed on the safety of her children. They found refuge in a living house, its welcoming presence a balm to their wounded souls.
Inside, Alma laid her children in their cribs, only to discover her youngest was not breathing. Panic gripped her, but with the help of strangers, her daughter was revived.
As peace settled over their new home, Alma realized they had never named their youngest.
"How about Mia?" she whispered, watching her daughter sleep.
With a bittersweet ache in her heart, Alma kissed her children goodnight, longing for the husband she had lost. But as she drifted into sleep, she held onto hope for a future where her family could finally find peace.
