I would take the suffering from you

by Mirabelharem

Summary:

Sirens are dangerous. Isabela has been told that all of her life. What is she supposed to do when she comes across one herself?

“Sirens are dangerous,” Alma had told Isabela when she was young. “Filthy creatures. They lure you in with their voices, using people or things you love to ensnare you. Adult or not.”

Isabela is barely five years old when her abuela tells her about the harshness of the ocean. It’s important. “Don’t go too close to the water, Isabela.” And she’s not just told that by her abuela but by her parents and everyone else too. She didn’t understand the true danger at that age. She didn’t believe them. She thought they just wanted her to stay away from the water to prevent her from drowning. She thought they were being dramatic. Something to scare her with. An old folks tale.

She didn’t think it was true despite everyone’s stories. The sight of humans with fish tails. Drowning adults and children alike. Luring fishermen to their doom with their voice.

“Have you ever seen one in person?” Isabela ends up asking her abuela anyway. She may not believe in them but she is curious. What lie will her abuela tell her? How far is she willing to go?

“I have,” Alma tells her quietly. Almost too quiet because Isabela has to strain her ears to hear her. “Once,” She isn’t looking at her anymore. Her eyes look glazed over. “Just once but it was enough to scare me for the rest of my life.”

Isabela isn’t sure what to say to that, so she doesn’t respond. She just listens. She wants to ask Are you sure it wasn’t your imagination or someone playing a prank on you? But she doesn’t. It’s rude, and she would no doubt be grounded if she asked.

“It was a short while after your abuelo passed,” Alma says. “I was just going to visit…the river your abuelo and I used to go all the time and then…I saw him.” It’s ominous. But Isabela does her best to understand what she means. “Pedro,” She breathes out. “It copied him perfectly. His voice. His mannerisms. Everything. For a moment…I really wanted to believe that he wasn’t lost, that he was still here with me. I almost did. I almost fell for it, but didn’t.”

“How?” Isabela asks. How did you know? How did you figure out that it wasn’t him? How did you deny its advances? If it was so perfect, how come you didn’t fall for it? How come you’re still here? How did you survive? She doesn’t ask any of that, just how. She doesn’t need to believe in them to be curious.

“Although it mimicked him perfectly…appealing to my emotions.” Alma closes her eyes. Making some kind of noise in her throat. A mix of a sob and choke. “It was just one thing it couldn’t copy.”

Something is wrong.

Isabela is terrified. She had never seen her abuela like this before. So emotional. It seemed impossible. It’s scary. Someone who she looks up to seeming so vulnerable and human. It’s foreign to her.

Now she can tell that her abuela isn’t simply telling her this to scare her off. No, this is way too personal. It’s the truth. Sirens are real. They are real and as dangerous as they claim.

I’m sorry, Isabela wants to say, but she doesn’t. There’s this weird lump in her throat preventing her from speaking. Her hands feel clammy and it almost feels like she can’t breathe from how tight her chest is. She feels guilty for making her abuela bring this up and relive it all over again.

“What…what was it?” Isabela asks in a whisper against her own better judgment. She waits a beat. A few seconds later. No response. “Abuela?”

“Memories.”

“Huh?”

“Memories,” Alma repeats, lowly. “Sirens cannot mimic memories. They listen, observe, and take. They are merciless creatures. I only snapped out of my trance once I realized how wrong it was. I have a family to take care of. To watch them grow up. I will not allow myself to be ripped away from them without an explanation because of some horrible illusion of my Pedro.”

Isabela wonders if anyone could be as strong as her abuela? Those stories of sirens and sailors—who would face them? Will they find the strength within themselves to snap out of the siren’s spell?

And even if she did face one, would she have the willpower to deny them and their sweet lies?

“That is why you must stay away from the water.”

Oh, she hopes so.

As always, Isabela clenches her jaw—teeth sinking into the flesh of her tongue until she tastes copper—to stop the words clawing at her throat.

(Better to bleed silently than drown in confession.)

 

---

Isabela is ten years old, almost eleven, and she decides that life sucks.

Another day. Another performance—playing the role of the perfect granddaughter, smiling demurely for Alma’s approval. Another forced conversation with Mariano, who is painfully oblivious to how scripted their interactions have become. Another round of dutifully checking on Luisa because their parents are busy. And then? The flower stall, where she arranges petals into bouquets that mean nothing to her beyond their market price.

It never changes. It never stops. She has the urge to ruin something just to see what would happen if she did.

She doesn’t. She would never. She’s perfect. The oldest of the third generation of the Madrigals. She has to be. Because if she doesn’t then who will? Dolores? Luisa? No, she can’t do that to them. It wouldn’t be fair. She’d rather shoulder the burden than pass it on to her cousin or sister.

She can’t. Just can’t.

She had been raised to epitomize perfection in every facet of her life. Her abuela’s relentless training had hammered into her how to behave—how to be strong but never show weakness. How to smile even when everything inside felt fractured. How to accept with grace, how to be kind, to never disagree or act out in ways that tarnished her image.

It was all about keeping up appearances. About making sure others saw what they expected to see.

(Not who she really was underneath it all.)

Her parents are busy working in the town hospital, rarely having time to spare for them. And while she tried not to resent them for it—after all, they were just trying to help people—she couldn't help but feel resentful at times. She and Luisa were often left alone. Her parents, though well-meaning, were never there when they needed them most.

She can’t blame them.

They were focused on saving lives.

Just not their own children.

Isabela knows that she has failed Luisa, too. She couldn’t deny that. She was just as bad as their parents.

Once Alma took her under her wing, molding her into the perfect heir, there was no time left for sisterly braids or secrets shared over sleepovers. Dolores became the one who listened when Luisa cried about being lonely. Dolores was the one who slipped extra arepas onto her plate when their abuela wasn’t looking.

Sometimes she wonders if Luisa even remembered they were sisters at all, or if Dolores had replaced her in every way that mattered.

Again, she has nobody to blame but herself for that.

Meanwhile, Isabela? She is just there. A polished figure in the background, admired but never truly seen. They know of her. Everyone does. Of course they do. She’s a Madrigal. Alma takes her everywhere she goes.

She’s disgusted and lonely despite being surrounded by so many friendly people. She wonders, would they still like me if I was myself? If I wasn’t who abuela claimed me to be? She doesn’t think she’ll like the answer.

And so, to shield herself from the pain, she buries it all beneath a mask of perfection. She put on her brightest, politest smile, and played the part everyone expected of her.

No one could know how tired, how empty she was inside. No one could see how desperately she craved something more—something real, not just the hollow praise that everyone showered her with.

She pretended like it was enough.

Like she was happy.

But at night, alone, she cried.

“Are you alright?”

Isabela didn’t answer her at first. Dolores, she…in Isabela’s opinion, has always heard too much. Knew too much.

Nosy. Eavesdropper. Creepy Madrigal. They all whisper behind Dolores’ back, though Isabela is sure that Dolores also knows that they don’t exactly like her. And if she’s hurt by it? She doesn’t let it show.

She’s jealous of Dolores.

Way too jealous.

How can she remain so unaffected? She craves the freedom that Dolores has. She wants to be close to her parents. To her siblings. She doesn’t want such a big burden on herself. She wants to be her.

Still, Isabela doesn’t understand why Dolores would ask her such a weird question. Did she see through her mask? How? She was supposed to be perfect? How could her cousin, who she’s not even that close with anymore, see how unhappy she was when even her parents couldn’t?

It’s unfair.

Her parents didn’t notice yet her cousin did.

But isn’t this what she wanted?

The bitter irony claws at her ribs. All these years, she had begged the universe, just once, for someone to see past Señorita Perfecta and love the raw, flawed girl beneath.

It still felt like she was drowning.

Her throat tightens around the truth. She didn’t know how to be seen.

The role of the perfect Madrigal had been her armor for so long that without it, she felt terrifyingly exposed.

Every worried word Dolores whispered, every knowing glance scared her. It scraped against scars still tender from years of being polished into something lovable only when perfect.

And yet...and yet. A reckless, starving part of her still screamed for more. For someone to tear down every last wall and kiss her broken edges anyway. To tell her she was allowed to be a mess and still be cherished.

But who is she to want that? Who is she to take it?

“I'm fine,” She replies smoothly, the practiced ease of a well-versed liar slipping effortlessly into place. “Why do you ask?”

Isabela Madrigal is a master of lies. Of pretending. Of playing the part people expect.

Nothing else.

 

---

 

Isabela didn’t give much thought about sirens. Honestly, she would’ve forgotten about them if it weren’t for the occasional reminder to everyone to be careful around the waters. Just like that. A part of her still doesn’t believe in the myth.

Usually there’s no reason for her to even go by the river. Unless they’re trying to relax or fish. She doesn't have the luxury to do either. She doesn’t dwell on it. Not really. She likes keeping herself busy. That way she can pretend that everything is alright.

She was curious. Very curious.

She often didn’t have breaks. Only when she was sick or if there was a family emergency would she get breaks.

It’s a once in a lifetime situation.

If she sees a siren, she’ll know that they are real. If she doesn’t, oh well. It was expected.

Isabela sighs, giving Dolores her best puppy eyes. “Can’t you just cover for me? Only for what, an hour?” She will admit that she’s pleading to Dolores. Something she would usually never do. Not to Dolores. Not to anyone. Sometimes, she has to swallow her pride and dignity and move forward.

Dolores raises an eyebrow. “Isabela, I love you and you’re my older cousin, but I’m not really on board with this.” She says simply. “If they end up asking me where you are, I don’t think I can make up excuses for an hour.”

“If you asked me, I would’ve done the same—“

Dolores doesn’t budge. “Because I wouldn’t ask something like that. I don’t sneak out to do god knows what.”

“I’ll repay you,” Isabela says. “Anything you want. Later. Whenever. I just need an hour, Dolores. Not even that, maybe less, but an hour at most.”

Dolores sighs. She doesn’t necessarily agree with this, but if Isabela is begging with her like this then she supposes she owes it to her. “You don’t need to bribe me.” She mutters. “An hour. Sixty minutes. If you’re any later than that and someone asks me about you, I won’t be able to cover for you in a rational manner.”

“Thanks!” Isabela leans in to press a kiss against Dolores’ cheek. “You’re the best. I promise you, I won’t be late. I just have to…fulfill my curiosity.”

Dolores only nods. “I won’t hold you up. Sixty minutes starts the moment you set foot out of the house.”

One hour.

Sixty minutes.

Three thousand six hundred seconds.

That’s all she needs.

Nothing more.

 

---

 

When Isabela arrives, there’s nothing but water. No sign of sirens or nothing. That’s fine, it’s not like she expects a siren to immediately come out. Nor does she expect one to show up in an hour. She just needed an excuse to have time to herself.

She wondered if it would take the form of someone she loves. Someone they could manipulate her with. Her abuela’s form would definitely work. Her parents, too. Any form would work if they use it correctly.

Though she could’ve sworn that sirens’ appearance were naturally beautiful and that’s how they lure their victims in. Wasn’t their whole thing about deception?

She’s not sure. She never gave too much thought to the myth unless they’re constantly mentioned in her ear.

She sits at the river's edge, the cool water lapping gently against her bare calves as she watches the sun bleed into dusk.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just waited—for what, she wasn’t even sure anymore. A sign? Something that will tell her that her silly delusions are real? Some kind of absolution for the things she knew but couldn't admit out loud?

She just waited.

Because what else was there to do?

Twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes in which the light had almost faded completely from the sky. The vibrant yellows and pinks give way to a blanket of soft blues.

Isabela sighs, her gaze now glued to the sky. No sign of sirens. No sign of anything aside from the wind rustling gently through the trees.

Was this trip a waste?

No. At least she got some fresh air.

Isabela's breath catches in her throat as her eyes snaps downward, only to lock onto the reflection of a face that isn’t hers.

A girl, younger by a few years, stares back up at her from beneath the water’s surface. Wide-eyed and unnervingly still, like she'd been waiting there the whole time.

“Who the hell—“ Isabela recoils violently. She didn’t know her. This stranger didn’t belong here. She knew every face in this town by heart, her abuela made sure of it, but she didn’t know her.

And oh. The girl is completely bare from the waist up, water dripping down her skin. Her breasts are exposed, barely shielded by the dark curls clinging to her collarbones. Though thankfully, her lower half remains submerged under the river’s surface.

“Uh…” She stiffens on instinct before forcing herself to look away in embarrassment as if she is the intruder here! She clears her throat awkwardly. “Where are you…er, parents?”

“My parents aren’t here,” The girl answers simply, tilting her head to the side. Her voice is too smooth. Too soft. Almost liquid. “Where are yours?”

“They’re…busy,” Isabela says because that is the truth. Julieta and Agustín are always busy. “Where are your clothes? You’re a little too…young to be skinny dipping. You could run into the wrong person.”

“Are you the wrong person?” The girl sounds like she’s teasing her, and even after all of that, she doesn’t bother covering up. “Then my, I suppose I should be careful.”

Isabela can feel the warmth travel up her neck, turning around, stunned. “Wha—no! I am concerned about your wellbeing. You’re…easy and alone. Anything can happen to you. Are you lost or something?”

“No, I’m not.” The girl replies. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

In the water?

Isabela’s head is starting to hurt. “Then…what is your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“Mirabel.” Mirabel gives her a tight smile. “I do live here. We just have never crossed paths until now.”

Isabela stares at her. “Mirabel,”

It’s a unique name.

“Yes, that’s my name. What is yours?”

How is it that you live here yet don’t know who I am?

“Isabela Madrigal,” Isabela says slowly. Who are you really? Then, she laughs to herself. This girl could barely be over the age of ten and she’s suspecting her. It’s not some crazy plot. “And you’re…”

Mirabel’s eyebrows raise just a bit. “I am?” She sounds completely amused. “What am I, Isabela?”

Now, Isabela can see.

“Fuck!” Suddenly, Isabela’s voice cracks raw with panic as she stumbles backward, water sloshing around her thighs. But it was too late—her body had already moved on its own, lured deeper without thought. This wasn’t a girl at all. “You’re—you’re—“ Up close, the signs are undeniable. The shimmering teal fins tracing Mirabel’s forearms like delicate lace. The gills fluttering faintly beneath her collarbone. The way the setting sun caught on the pearlescent scales dusted along her spine. Not human. Never human. “A…a siren.”

“I am.” Mirabel answers truthfully much to Isabela’s surprise. “You’ve heard my song, and yet…you’re still here.” Still alive. “Do not be afraid. If I truly wanted to harm you, I could’ve done so already.”

Isabela’s eyes widens slightly, backing up. They’re real. They’re actually real. “You’re…not fake?”

“I am,” Mirabel whispers, looking at her with something akin to pity. “Always have been. You think you can deny us for so long? Deny me? We know how to be hidden.” Her voice sounds strangely soft. “You were looking, searching for one of us. I answered. I didn’t have to, but I did. As you can see, I am not your enemy. Are you satisfied, Isabela?”

Is she?

Isn’t this what she wanted? To find a siren? To see if it was a myth or not?

“Oh, that’s right,” Mirabel continues. “You wouldn’t know what satisfaction feels like because you never had that in your life.” She pulls back slightly, and Isabela can feel the rage build up within her. “Do not take offense to my statement. It’s the truth.” She hums, and it’s so comforting. It feels like it’s vibrating through the water. “I happen to know a lot about satisfaction. I can show you if you’d like.”

Despite it all, Isabela can not find one trace of malice or deception in this siren’s pretty eyes. This siren, Mirabel, doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t move backwards. Doesn’t make any attempt to grab her and drown her.

She doesn’t understand.

Her guard was lowered.

Wouldn’t that be a perfect attempt for Mirabel to take her?

Isabela’s instincts are howling warnings of danger—flee, run, save yourself.

And yet she found herself nodding. Nodding. As if her body was moving of its own accord, betraying the panic roiling inside her.

“I knew you would stay.”

How frightening.

 

---

 

And just like that, Isabela found herself something.

Friend? Acquaintance? A willing victim caught in a siren's orbit? She couldn’t quite define it. Only that Mirabel wasn't anything like the monsters from everyone’s cautionary tales.

She didn't drag her under. Didn't twist her words into traps. If anything, Mirabel was kind in a way no one had ever been. Listening when Isabela ranted about expectations, laughing when she dared to be messy, never once flinching at the parts of her that weren't perfect.

Just for a moment, the temptation flitted across her tongue like a moth—tell her family. Tell them about Mirabel.

But the words stuck in her throat like cotton, strangled by doubt and fear. Her family would never understand. They would see only a monster, a threat to be destroyed, not a girl who laughed like the sunrise and made her feel alive.

And if anyone found out, she’d be grounded for life.

It was better to keep Mirabel to herself.

 

---

 

It was impossible.

Continuing like this would only end in disaster. She couldn't keep sneaking out. Couldn't risk everything for visits with a siren.

She had to protect Mirabel. To keep her secret safe, even if it meant sacrificing all of this.

There were no easy answers, no simple ways out that didn’t end with either her or Mirabel getting hurt.

She made up her mind.

It tore her apart. Like ripping out her own ribs with her bare hands. But what other choice did she have? Every stolen moment with Mirabel was a gamble, and the stakes were life and death.

She knew better than to hope for miracles. The world wasn’t kind enough to let a Madrigal love a siren openly. Not without bloodshed.

So she left before anyone could discover the truth. Left before Mirabel could become another tale about monsters and foolish girls who trusted them.

She told herself that it was for the best.

(Even she did not quite believe that.)

 

---

And every morning, Mirabel would return to the same spot. Where the water curled around the old dock, where Isabela had once sat with her legs dipped in the shallows.

Maybe today she’ll be back, she’d think hopefully. She’s just busy.

But the hours would pass, and nobody would appear.

And with each passing day, the hope in her chest would dim a little more.

Like a flame slowly smothered by rain.

The seasons changed, leaves fell and regrew, snow dusted then dissolved into spring blooms. But no matter how many sunsets bled into darkness, Isabela Madrigal never came back.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years.

She felt like a fool. A siren, waiting for someone who wouldn't come back.

How could she have left? Left her here, like she meant nothing? After everything, she just left without a word? Without a note?

Mirabel had given her everything. Her trust, her secrets, the softest parts of herself that no one else had ever seen—and Isabela had thrown it all into the current like scraps to drown.

And in return?

Silence.

Abandonment.

She left me. Left me. Doesn’t care. Won’t come back. How dare her?

Every fiber in her shrieked in denial. No. No, she did care. She had cared. She would come back.

Claws dug into the silt below as Mirabel's tail thrashed violently against the current. White-hot and vicious, twisting into a vow whispered between gritted teeth, “I swear, Isabela, I’ll make you regret it!”

She stopped counting the days eventually.

But she never stopped waiting.

She should have known better than to hope.

(But hope had never asked permission before sinking its teeth in.)

 

---

 

It’s been years since Isabela has left Mirabel.

She’s now twenty-one.

She could never forget her.

Never forget the siren that made her feel like a human. The siren that was…pretty. The siren who cared about her in a way that no person had.

One day, one day, Isabela finds herself walking back to the specific dock. The one where they had met.

Just once.

She wants to see what it looks like now. She wants to see if Mirabel is still there. If she also missed her. She wants to relieve those memories.

…And the dock?

It’s not exactly abandoned.

Fishermen still go there.

Fortunately, there was no story of them catching a siren.

Mirabel.

She wonders how she looks now.

She wonders if she’s still nearby.

Does Mirabel even remember her? Or is she just some human she met?

Finally.

And Isabela sees her again.

Mirabel!

She now knows that it wasn’t some weird dream. She actually met a siren. She couldn’t forget her.

Why is she still here so out in the open? What if she was a stranger? A hunter? Someone wanting to catch sirens?

She should be more careful.

Mirabel, of course, also notices her. “You’re back,” Isabela's heart skips a beat at Mirabel's voice. It sounded so different now—less childish, more mature. “Isabela,” And the way she said her name. The syllables slid together effortlessly, like a melody. Hypnotically. “I’ve missed you.”

“You’re real,” Isabela whispers in awe. “You’re not just a dream. You're here.”

Mirabel's tail swishes, sending glittering droplets of water into the air as she laughs. “Of course I am.” Her tail is much different from how it was years ago. It’s adorned in jewels and pearls. So undeniably her. “I never left. It was you who left me. Not the other way around.”

Isabela goes pale. That much is true. In Mirabel’s eyes, it must’ve looked like she abandoned her after making her first human friend. “Y-Yeah, I…I suppose I did.” She swallows the lump in her throat, voice growing softer. “But—but I didn’t want to. I swear. Mirabel, I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay with you. I wanted to continue to be friends with you.”

Mirabel drifts closer, her movements fluid as water slips between them. A faint, hesitant smile touches her lips. “I want to believe you,” She admits. “All my life, I was told humans were cruel—liars and thieves who'd use me if they knew what I was.” Her fingers skims the surface of the water before meeting Isabela’s gaze again. “But then there's you. No one ever came looking for me.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,”

“That’s a good thing.” Mirabel muses. “No need to stress your pretty little head out. You didn’t sell me out or tell anyone about me. I appreciate that. Now…” She leans in closer. “Why did you leave me?” There’s a certain edge to her voice. Why did you abandon me as if I was nothing?

Isabela closes her eyes, breathing in deeply. “I-I didn’t want to. Really! It’s just that…I didn’t have much time to even relax. I’m a Madrigal. I’m busy every day. If they knew I was visiting a siren, they’d kill you. I couldn’t let that happen. You’re my—you’re my friend. I care about you. It hurt me, too, having to leave you like that.”

“…You still wanted me.”

Isabela nods briefly. “…Yes…yes, I do. If I had the choice to stay with you versus doing all of that nonsense…I’d choose you every single time.”

Mirabel’s pupils dilate. “Oh, you’re far too sweet!” She coos. “Come here, Isabela.” A command. A lure. A trapped hidden in tenderness. A siren’s called wrapped in velvet. So tempting it made resistance feel like a sin. “In the water with me.”

Isabela doesn’t respond for a moment. Can’t respond. Far too shocked by the request.

Bad idea.

She can’t do this.

She should say no.

“It's okay,” Mirabel’s fingers glide through the water, reaching for Isabela with an almost aching gentleness. “We’ll be together,” She promises, lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach her darkened eyes. “Like before. The best of friends. Even better.”

Isabela hesitates.

She'd missed her, that was the truth. Missed her laughter and her stories and the way she made even the most mundane moments feel like magic.

And hesitation is all a siren ever needed.

“Isa,”

The moment Isabela grabs the hand reaching forward, she has already sealed her fate.

“O-Okay…but just this once, alright?” Isabela says, no louder than a whisper. Her voice feels weak. “Only one time.”

“Perfect,”

Isabela's legs carry her forward as if on instinct, her feet sinking into the cool riverbed. Her dress clings to her body, but for once, she hardly cared.

One step.

Another.

She’s in the water.

And she’s Mirabel’s.

“It’s been so long.”

“You’re ethereal,” Isabela tells her breathlessly. The more rational part in her mind is telling her this is not a good idea. Mirabel is a siren. She is not a human. Her job is to lure in humans. A trap. The stupid part of her mind is telling her that she knows Mirabel. She wouldn’t harm her. She wouldn’t kill her.

Mirabel’s grin widens, the sharpness of her teeth glinting in the light. “I’ve been told,” What a monster she is. “But it means a lot more coming from you, Isabela.” Her voice glimmers with some kind of amusement in her voice and Isabela isn’t sure why. She doesn’t understand. “Because you were there when I was little. Immature. I think you’re just as beautiful, too.”

Isabela’s chest tightens. What is she doing? “Mirabel,” Her voice is amazing. So clear. Like it’s echoing throughout the ocean. Haunting, even. “You’re in my head. Constantly. I-I have to ask, have I been caught?”

Mirabel tilts her head, leaning closer. “I have done nothing to you. I wouldn’t dare. I’m almost hurt that you implied such nonsense, my dear friend.” She reaches out to caress Isabela’s face. Her hands are cold. “Everything you think, everything you feel is your own doing.”

Isabela feels utterly bewitched, hypnotized by every movement of Mirabel's body and every shift in her expression—her touch is electric, her gaze mesmerizing. But then came that voice, cold and insidious, whispering darkly in her ear. Siren are sweet liars. It sounds strangely like her abuela. She ignores it. “Oh,”

Mirabel's tail coils possessively around Isabela’s waist, dragging her through the water until their bodies nearly touch. “I know what you crave,” She murmurs, breath cold against Isabela’s lips. “The late-night thoughts you choke back. The dreams you're too afraid to name.” Her fingers trace Isabela's jaw, tilting her face up as if to brand the truth into her skin. “I am everything you've ever wanted.”

The water rises around them, lapping at Isabela’s throat. Yet instead of panic, a strange calm settles over her. “You are,” She admits in a trembling whisper. “And—I shouldn’t…but I want you, Mirabel.” Her pulse roars in her ears as the words slips free. “I missed you.”

“My Isabela,” Mirabel croons. Sing, sing, sing. Scream out your desires to me. Let me trap you. Fall for me. Let go of everything you hold dear to you. Forget them. You are mine. “You can’t leave me. Not again. If you do, I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive you a second time.”

“I-I won’t,”

“The ocean doesn't judge,” Mirabel says, leaning in until their foreheads nearly touch. “No rules. No masks. Just you.” Her thumb brushes over Isabela's knuckles—claiming. “And me.”

The ocean. Freedom. No family. No pressure. Forever. The promise of belonging, of being seen, was so tempting.

At this moment, Isabela didn’t understand how she was already doomed. Didn’t see the trap closing around her, didn’t realize she was already ensnared.

Mirabel was a spider, and Isabela was already in her web. A willing victim.

There was no way back.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 24 of Madrigalcest