Julio had grown accustomed to his life with the Riveras. He knew them a lot better now, ever since he'd married Coco and moved in with them the day after. He had accepted their ban on music out of pure love for Coco (and slight fear of Imelda) and joined their family business without hesitation, proving that he could be hard-working and skilled at the job just like them.

And overtime, he kept learning new things about them as he grew closer to each family member.

He'd learned about Coco's light-hearted, sharp-witted, and optimistic personality and her rebelious attitude toward the music ban. He'd found out early on just how terrifying Imelda could be when she's upset, her rage and violence toward others sending shivers down his spine even though her anger was most likely never aimed at him directly.

He'd even (sort of) learned how to tell Imelda's twin brothers apart; even though they're identical, Felipe's voice is the slightest bit higher pitched than Oscar's is.

But there's one thing Julio couldn't wrap his head around this year. Not because he wasn't used to it, but because it worried him.

Even after all these years, Julio still couldn't figure out why Coco acted so strangely whenever her birthday came around.

Everything would seem routine at first: the feeling in the air on this particular day, a sense of celebration and happiness, but also normality as if it were any other day. Looking over at Coco when he first woke up on this day and noticing her lips quirking into the slightest smile as if she could already sense what day it was before she even opened her eyes. Trying not to smile too wide or blush as he presented her with the treats and gifts he'd helped everyone prepare for her the night before without her knowing. Hearing the laughter and chatter of their friends and his parents as they came over to celebrate with Coco and everyone else.

And, though Julio would never say this out loud, he loved the vividly bright decorations, the taste of the treats, and most of all the glow that Coco seemed to have about her throughout the whole day. He didn't really care that there was never any music at these parties, because he got to spend time with his wife and his sister and kids, joking with Imelda's brothers and staying as far away from Imelda as possible out of precaution just in case some mariachis walk past the hacienda playing their usual tunes.

But after the fiesta and the talking and laughing, the house emptied. Coco and Julio's friends left, giving hugs to each of them and kisses on Coco's cheeks as they walk out the door. The rooms of the hacienda quieted, the echos of the different voices from earlier finally subsiding. All of the colorful decorations and pastries are put away. And that's when Coco's weird behavior starts.

That's when the joyus aura that had floated around her all morning started to dim, and her posture would sag. Her eyes would wilt and become half closed, and sometimes she would cry, especially if there were still a few vanilla treats left out on the table. She would hold them to her chest like she was feeling vibrations, the tears streaming down he cheeks as she threw them away.

Even late at night, he would notice things about her. He would hear her rich and sweet voice singing when everyone, including her, was supposed to be sleeping. Julio would look out their bedroom window and see her outline in the moonlight in the courtyard, her hand squeezing her wrist so hard he wondered if it was still getting blood pumped through it.

Julio had always been able to comfort her, but for some reason, not on those days. Never on those days. If anything, any words he said whenever he'd try to approach her seemed to deepen her sadness.

Which Julio really didn't understand. If Coco was so joyful in the morning, when she was celebrating her birthday and joking with her friends, then what made her cry at night? What made her look at him with teary eyes and embrace him with shaking arms? What could make her voice tremble so much that even Julio, who cherished every conversation him and Coco had together, had to stop himself from wincing evey time she spoke?

Well, Coco's 26th birthday had come, and it was the same as the previous years.

The party was lively, even without music. The hacienda was decorated in flourescent purple, orange, and blue streamers along the walls. A mountain of cakes, sweets, and over-sugared candies sat on the kitchen table, definitely enough to feed more than ten guests. Victoria and Elena's dolls were strewn all over the floor, getting crushed under people's feet. Rosita was bringing out even more candies to be shared. Imelda and Coco were engrossed in a conversation, half full drinks in hand.

It seemed like a typical party... at least until six thirty.

Then everyone left. Julio helped clean up the treats and toys thrown about after the house emptied. Rosita and Imelda stood at the front door, watching the guests leave and waving goodbye behind them. Victoria, Elena, and Imelda's brothers were in the girls' room, and Julio could hear their voices and laughs from the kitchen even as he tried to block it out.

It was then that Julio realized Coco hadn't been seen since everyone cleared out. He set down the plates of vanilla frosted cookies and went to the one place he knew she would be, pushing past his sister and mother-in-law, breathing in the sharp breeze of air that blew around him and shivering in the process.

He turned and saw Rosita and Imelda watching them, but he waved his hand and signaled for them to go back inside.

Then, after a short intake of breath, he slowly reached out and put his hands on Coco's shoulders, expecting her to lean into his touch like usual but feeling upset when she didin't Julio leaned over her and saw the fresh streaks of tears already making their normal rolls down her cheeks. The sight of them deepened Julio's fears instantly.

A few moments passed before Julio cleared his throat and stepped up beside her, letting go of her shoulders, taking her hand, and staring into the purple and pink sky in front of him.

"Are you alright, mi amor?" he asked.

Coco's response was short, clipped: "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

Under other, less important circumstances Julio would've left Coco's answer alone. He would've shrugged, sighed, and left her standing there in her own strange sorrow.

But that would only be if this were just a normal day and Coco's behavior was random and only occured once. This was Coco's birthday- a time she should be celebrating, not crying about- and this was not random behavior; it had happened every year on the same day for as long as Julio had known her.

He had to know what was making her so upset. He had to end these annual sad feelings.

He sqeezed her hand and looked her directly in her teary eyes, his voice as firm as he could manage without sounding as scared as he felt deep down.

"You're not okay, Coco," he told her, pausing as a breeze blew past his shoulders and played with the ends of Coco's braids. "If you were fine, you wouldn't be crying."

"I'm not crying."

"Yes you are." Julio brushed his thumb against her cheek where it was wet to prove his point, noticing how the setting sun made yellow dots of her tears on his fingers and highlighted the dry streaks on her face.

Coco sighed at his touch and turned away, her hand once again squeezing her wrist.

Julio leaned over her shoulder until he could see her face again. "Coco." He slowly reached out to touch her cheek and move her face so she was staring at him when she talked. If she talked at all. Then he pulled her in his arms as another breeze blew by.

It hurt Julio so much to see Coco like this.

After a few more moments, Coco shook her head and broke away from his hold.

"I wish my papá was here," she said at last.

Julio's breath caught in his throat at her words. He stared up at the now dark and starry sky as he searched for a response. "Do you think he'd want to be here?" he asked cautiously, still staring away from her in case he turned his head and was met with her glare.

But Coco didn't seem anything close to mad as she spoke.

"He would've loved it, Julio," she told him, her voice wistful. "He loved parties of any kind. Especially if they had music or candy."

Finally finding it in him to stare at her out of the corner of his eye, Julio rubbed the back of his neck as he studied her. "Did he dance to the music at the fiestas you went to?"

Coco wheezed a laugh. "Definitely. Always." The tiniest grin appeared on her face. "Him and his- our- Superhero would play their guitars. And Papá would lift me onto his shoulders as he played."

Julio reached down to grab her hand again, feeling oddly ueasy with this new information. "So he was a good musician, then?"

"The best. To me, at least." Then another laugh escaped her. "And he hated chocolate. His face always made me giggle when I saw it. He would cringe anytime he saw someone take a bite of a candy with chocolate in it. That's why we always had so many vanilla sweets whenever we hosted parties."

"Is that why I saw two trays of vanilla pasteles on the kitchen table this morning?" Julio teased, pulling onone of her braids slightly. "Because for sure I never thought of serving those to anyone when I helped make the sweets yesterday."

Coco nodded and tugged her braid away. "That's exactly why, Julio. I just wish I could've given them to him."

They went silent for a moment again, the only hint Julio had that Coco was still standing by him coming from the lights of the hacienda, making outlines of both their bodies.

Coco broke the silence moments later. "I wish I were still allowed to think of my father," she said, her voice again becoming heavy and sorrowful, tears prickling in her eyes. "I try not to think of him, but-"

"It's hard for you," Julio finished, and Coco nodded at his words, closing her eyes and letting the tears fall.

"Times like this are when I really wish he was here." Coco wiped her eyes with her arm and turned toward the front door. "He should be here, celebrating with me, and you, and all of us."

"I agree," Julio replied as he leaned over her shoulder and kissed her cheek. "I would love to have met him."

Coco didn't respond, but her thoughtfulness at his comment lingered in the air between them as Coco started toward the house and opened the door, disappearing behind it and stopping just after the doorway to wait for him.

With no other words said, Julio followed Coco as she led the way to their room and took out her braids once they were there. Her gaze lingered over her face in their bedroom mirror, no doubt thinking of her papá, Julio guessed.

He kissed her once again as he turned the lights off. "Next time, Coco," he muttered as he layed next to her. "Maybe next time you'll get to see him."

Coco sighed and closed her eyes. "I hope so." She was soon asleep after answering.

Julio layed awake long after that, going over the day's events in his mind and wondering where Coco's father was, all the things Coco had said about him and her longing to see him again.

Maybe, Julio said to himself. Maybe he'll be here next year.

It was false hope- Julio knew it was- but it was something. Julio knew Coco's father being here was the only birthday present she really wanted.