𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐀 𝐌. 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

I Won't Say I'm In Love

CTTO: mxssromanoff

pairing; isabela x fem!reader

warning/s; language

You and Isabela have hated each other for as long as you could remember, and no matter how much you two avoided seeing each other, you'd still end up being face to face with Señorita Perfecta—what was left of the perfect girl you once knew at least.

I mean, your houses were facing each other and your bedroom window was directly across from her balcony! Seeing each other was unavoidable at that point.

It was like the stars aligned to make both of your lives miserable.

But you being spiteful of each other wasn't without reason either.

You still remembered, clear as day, being bitter about not winning an art contest for the children in the Encanto just because Isabela could pull flowers out of her ass.

You, of course, being the six year old kid that you were who was quite the sore loser, told Isabela to her face that she was a fake who only won because she was a Madrigal and of course, she didn't take kindly to that and demanded you apologize.

You didn't and instead tore her artwork to pieces. Fists went flying everywhere after that.

Needless to say, you've hated each other since then and have even brought your rivalry to adulthood, fighting over the pettiest of things.

Nothing changed either even after Casita was rebuilt.

"Ugh, look at her," you said as you looked up from your sketches, a spiteful gaze specially directed at the bright blue figure of Isabela Madrigal who was busy trying to make crops sprout in front of her family's casa.

"You're still playing that game?" Mirabel asked as she lounged next to you in front of your house.

"What game, Mira?" you snapped. There was no game in hating Isabela Madrigal, no matter which form she took.

"Oh, I don't know," Mirabel gave you an innocent look before her eyes landed on the dress you were supposed to be working on.

And that's right, you were the town's dressmaker, having taken the mantle of your papa's legacy, which was the main reason why Mirabel could be seen hanging around you.

Aside from the fact that both of you used to share mutual hatred for her sister.

Your eyes followed hers and the moment you realized that you've been absentmindedly scribbling the eldest Madrigal with the angriest chicken scratches you've seen in existence, you closed your sketchbook.

At least she didn't see Isabela's name scribbled over and over again on one of the other pages.

"She was in my line of sight, I couldn't focus on anything else!" you reasoned.

"Riiiight, right, so, um, you still hate Isa even if she's changed?" she asked you.

"Of course, I do!"

Isabela might have retired from being a Columbian Barbie but it wasn't like she ever faked hating your guts. What would she gain from that anyway? As far as you were aware, she wanted the village to look at her as if she was Mother Teresa.

"Yeah, but don't you think that maybe you're too...I don't know, invested in her?"

That...you have nothing to counter with.

Everyday, you wake up and the first thing that would pop up in your head was Isabela. You'd spend hours planning out how to make her day worse without actually doing most of them. From dedicating most of your life into hating her, you've noticed small bits and pieces about the perfect daughter that most people would have otherwise overlooked.

You've noticed how her eyes would light up whenever they'd land on the most bizarre objects or how she'd steal an extra serving of cake when she thought nobody else was looking, or that one time when—

You narrowed your eyes at Mirabel.

"Well?" she pressed on.

However, instead of answering her, you stood up with a huff and gathered your belongings before leaving Mirabel to her own devices.

You were not going to admit anything. You hated Isabela Madrigal with every fiber of your being.

So much so that you felt like drowning every time you looked into her eyes.

And you hated it.

-

Isabela watched as you disappeared from her line of sight, yet the bitterness brought by your distant presence still lingered like some sort of evil miasma.

"You should talk to her," came the voice of her cousin Dolores.

"There's nothing to talk about," Isabela said as she went on to proceed with her task.

But instead of vegetables, she sprouted red roses.

An annoyed frown formed on Isabela's face. You totally just jinxed her.

"So we're just going to ignore that you still made a flower statue of Y/N in your room?" Dolores gave her a side glance as she bent down to pick up a vibrant red rose.

"It's only there because insulting her always makes me feel better," Isabela defended, earning herself a raised brow from her cousin.

Okay, that was a half-truth. It wasn't only just one and she made them because Isabela hated you so much that you were practically living rent-free inside her head 24/7 that she just had to make several floral statues of you out of frustration, all with different facial expressions. Again.

The last batch have been destroyed along with the old casa.

Every morning since then, you were the first thing she'd see and the first words she'd say were of course nothing but insults hurled at you and your stupid, beautiful face.

You were also the last thing she'd see before she'd close her eyes, and you'd be there in her dreams, haunting every single one of them.

She thought about getting rid of your statues, and she did at one point but that only ended up making her even more agitated for whatever reason.

"Don't you think it's time that you two finally mend your relationship?" Dolores said. "It's been fifteen years."

"There's nothing to mend, Dolores," Isabela replied, removing the roses from her vegetable patch, hissing when a thorn pricked her finger.

Her cousin sighed in exasperation behind her, feeling Dolores's judging gaze burning holes through the back of her skull as she placed the rose she picked behind Isabela's ear. "Just admit it."

Isabela's eyes landed briefly on her sister who suddenly stood up on her seat to follow you inside your house.

"Admit what?" she knew what her cousin wanted to say, knew that Dolores knew she was playing dumb, but the mere thought of it had her...feeling things that absolutely disgusted her.

Or at least that was what she wanted to convince herself.

"That you're in love with Y/–"

But before she could complete her sentence, a flurry of colorful flowers went flying Dolores's way although Isabela spared her from accidentally swallowing a stray petal, unlike with Camilo.

"Isabela–"

"No, I'm not going to admit anything and you weren't just going to say what you were going to say!" Isabela said, dumping a pile of roses on her feet before stomping away.

She hated you. That was the only thing she had been sure of before and after her phase of perfection.

She hated how you can only smile around other people, hated how she could only hear your laughter from afar, hated how she could never be the reason for both—and that scared her.

So no, Isabela Madrigal will never admit that she was in love. With you, of all people.