Chapter Text
Over time, things settled into a new normal. Mirabel was unequivocally recognized as head of the family. Her relationship with Bruno was unanimously viewed as a positive step forward. There weren't any protests about the openness of it; nobody questioned Camilo's standing invitation to join them on occasion if he wanted to. Elena Madrigal was welcomed with open arms as Isabela's wife.
Alma didn't stir up any trouble. She didn't pick any fights. She didn't make any complaints. She did her best to help out where she could. And she never made any reference or allusion to her ever having been related to them.
Bruno was suspicious of Alma's sudden turnaround. Most of the time that she was in his presence he spent ignoring her. If she tried to talk to him, he only gave short, clipped responses.
Mirabel hadn't gotten around to asking him for more information about roleplaying or BDSM or whatever he had called it, and he never brought it up again either. They had sex most nights, though she noticed he usually requested a night of just cuddling and kissing after days that Alma tried to engage with him. Mirabel always catered to his wishes when that happened.
The townspeople didn't pry into the family's affairs. There may have been an occasional whisper in a neighbor's ear at seeing Isabela holding hands with a woman after having nearly been engaged to Mariano Guzmán, or a surprised eyebrow raised upon witnessing a public display of affection between Mirabel and Bruno, but they were surprisingly accepting of the fact that Mirabel seemed to be in charge now instead of Alma.
Perhaps it had something to do with the way the community had banded together to help them rebuild after Casita Primera collapsed, but it seemed that the Madrigals were no longer up on such a high pedestal as they used to be. The town at large must've realized by that point that, despite the magic of the Encanto and the Gifts that most of them had, the Madrigals were not infallible.
As Mirabel's birthday drew near, plans were discussed about how it should be celebrated. Camilo's sixteenth had only recently gone by, and it was a pretty small party, all things considered. Casita had been fully decked out of course, but nobody was invited who didn't live there; Alma was the only one present who wasn't a Madrigal. The big difference was, even though this was also a sixteenth birthday, it was going to be the sixteenth birthday of the head of la familia Madrigal. As such, it was decided that the town should be included.
It would be the first time since Casita Nueva was built that they would be hosting an event like this for the entire town to get together. Alma commented that the head of the family, on such occasions in the past, always gave a speech, but she quickly appended that there was no reason that that had to continue if the current head didn't want to do it.
Mirabel admired Alma's candor on the matter, thanking her for her input and promising to give it due consideration. She didn't really want to buck tradition entirely. A lot of the recent goings-on in la casa Madrigal were groundbreaking, so she felt like she kind of owed it to her predecessor to try to preserve at least a little bit of the old days which Alma had - to her detriment - so fiercely clung to.
Bruno did his best to distract Mirabel when he thought she was overdoing something. His method of choice usually involved giving her an orgasm one way or another. She only got a little annoyed by that; there she would be, trying to make sure everything was going to go smoothly, and then all of a sudden he'd swoop in to sweep her away and… granted, it was enjoyable, and she did appreciate that he wanted to help her relax, but she still kept worrying.
Finally she mentioned to him that she was afraid if she didn't take care of every single detail herself then it would all come apart at the seams. His response was to pull her close and admit to her that he was afraid her determination to take care of every single detail herself was making her come apart at the seams.
"If you drive yourself to distraction, it might cloud your judgement," Bruno warned her. "I would hate for you to feel pressured into doing something you don't want to do." He tapped the parchment on the desk Mirabel was sitting at, which contained more cross-outs than legible words. "As much as I am loath to agree with Alma about anything, she did have a point when she said the old traditions didn't need to still stand."
"There's no harm in me giving a speech, Tío Bruno," Mirabel insisted. "I just can't figure out how to say what I need to say, that's all."
"I'm concerned about you, Novia," he began, massaging her shoulders. "I haven't seen you this stressed since the early days of our relationship." Pressing a kiss to her hair, he suggested, "What if I did the speech?"
"What?" Mirabel's mouth fell agape. "No, it's my job, as head-"
"What does that make me?" Bruno interrupted. "Alma was a widow the whole time that she was head of her family, so she had no one to share the burden with, and look what that did to her. We don't want the same thing to happen to you, do we?"
Mirabel stared at the scribbled-on parchment that swam before her eyes. "It's my responsibility to see that everything gets done…"
"So delegate," Bruno told her. "You can still make sure everything gets done without doing it all yourself; just supervise. As long as you check in on everyone's progress, you can lend a hand when it's needed and not burn yourself out. You look exhausted, Mirabel, and it's supposed to be your birthday. You won't be able to enjoy the celebration if you're sleeping through it."
"Alright, fine," she grumbled, shoving her failed attempt at a speech away from her.
"That's my girl," Bruno praised, bringing a smile to her face as she tilted her head back to look at him. "And there's that beautiful smile I can't get enough of." He stroked her face tenderly and kissed her forehead.