<h4>Chapter 116: _ You Are All Forgiven</h4>


    Pfft... the image of Rosa beating one of them with the legs of the other flew to my head and I knew their fate would be worse should they ever challenge my scary older sister.


    I stared at him. "You... what?"


    Pedro cracked his knuckles. "We’ll fight whoever did this."


    Gonzalo smirked. "Yeah. We’ve had practice."


    Rubén saluted. "We solemnly pledge to kick ass in your honor."


    I blinked and scoffed in disbelief.


    What alternate reality had I stepped into?


    "You <i>bullied</i> me," I reminded them.


    "Yes." Luis Miguel nodded. "And we deeply regret it."


    "So now," Gonzalo said, "we fight for you instead of against you."


    Pedro pointed at me. "You name the enemy, we <i>destroy</i> the enemy."


    Rubén pointed at himself. "We are now your personal bodyguards."


    I stared at them.


    Long.


    Hard.


    And then, for the second time that day...


    Iughed.


    A full, real, uncontrobleugh.


    Luis Miguel’s eyes lit up. Pedro pumped his fist. Gonzalo whooped. Rubén threw his garbage bag into the air like it was a graduation cap.


    It promptly exploded over his head.


    The celebration came to an <i>immediate</i> halt.


    We all stared at the mess.


    Rubén stood there, frozen and absolutely drenched in filth.


    Luis Miguel was the first to break. He made a strangled noise that sounded like augh.


    Pedro covered his mouth.


    Gonzalo fell to his knees.


    I wheezed.


    Rubén sighed, wiping a banana peel off his shoulder.


    "Redemption," he muttered, "is a <i>messy</i> business."


    Rubén still reeked of garbage, but honestly? The whole group did. And yet, there was something oddly heartwarming about their ridiculous, over-the-top dedication to making things right.


    I wanted to stay mad at them. I really did. But they had carried trash for me all evening—<i>happily</i>, I might add—gotten covered in filth, and somehow still managed to be the most entertaining bunch of idiots I had ever met.


    It was hard to keep a grudge when they looked so... <i>earnest</i>.


    So, with a long-suffering sigh, I finally said the words they’d been waiting for.


    "Fine. I forgive you."


    They gawked at me in silence until they yelled...


    "<strong>YES!</strong>"


    Gonzalo fist-pumped the air like he had just won the lottery. Pedro actually jumped. Luis Miguel did a dramatic spin, arms outstretched, like he had just been blessed by the heavens.


    And Rubén? Rubén fell to his knees in the most dramatic disy of gratitude I had ever seen.


    "Oh, holy Goddess above, we are saved!" he cried, raising his hands. "She has forgiven us, brothers! Our sins have been cleansed!"


    Luis Miguel ced a solemn hand on his shoulder. "Rise, my son. Redemption is ours."


    I groaned. "You guys are <i>so</i> weird."


    "We are <i>your</i> weirdos now," Pedro dered proudly.


    I chuckled despite myself. And just like that, the tension was gone.


    We gathered thest of the trash, and to my utter disbelief, the guys—who, mind you, would not have lifted a finger for anyone else—cheerfully carried every single bag while I strolled beside them, doing <i>absolutely nothing</i>.


    It was, without a doubt, the best way anyone had ever taken out the garbage.


    We walked back toward my father’s estate to carry more and more. The air was oozing with the scent of the city—brewed coffee from a nearby cafe, the faint spice of street food, and, unfortunately, the ever-present stink of garbage lingering on <i>us</i>.


    As we approached the estate gates, the boys slowed their pace.


    "Whoa," Pedro muttered.


    "Holy shit," Rubén added.


    Luis Miguel let out a low whistle. "So this is how the other half lives."


    I followed their wide-eyed stares to meet the estate’s views My family’s crest was embedded in the iron bars, glowing faintly in the evening light. It was the kind of ce that screamed <i>power</i>, the kind of ce that kept people like them; rowdy, mischievous, not exactlyw-abiding—far, far away.


    And yet, when we reached the gates, the guards didn’t stop them.


    Because of <i>me</i>.


    Luis Miguel nced at me, then at the guards, then back at me. "Damn, you really are a princess, huh?"


    Gonzalo nudged Rubén. "And to think we used to give her wedgies."


    "<i>You</i> used to give her wedgies," Rubén corrected.


    I rolled my eyes. "Are you going to stand there gawking, or are we finishing this?"


    That snapped them out of it. <i>Jokes on you, Rosa... I’m actually having fun. </i>


    We went back and forth from the disposal site and back to the estate, the boys still marveling at their surroundings like they had stepped into a different universe.


    Along the way, the conversation turned to high school; embarrassing stories, pranks, and, of course, <i>them calling</i> all the ways they had made my life miserable.


    "Remember when we filled your locker with frogs?" Pedro cackled.


    "I still have nightmares," I muttered.


    "Or when we told the entire school you had a third nipple?" Rubén snorted.


    I stopped walking and slowly turned, shooting him a death re.


    Rubén paled. "I—I mean, that was just a <i>rumor</i>! Not..."


    "You <i>started</i> it."


    "Okay, yes, but..."


    I picked up a piece of trash and threw it at him.


    Luis Miguel wiped a fake tear. "Ah, revenge. Beautiful."


    We finally dumped thest of the trash, and as the sky darkened, the estate’smps flickered on, bathing the gardens in a glow.


    It felt... strangely peaceful.


    I stretched my arms. "Well. That’s done."


    Luis Miguel shook his head. "No, <i>we</i> did it. You just stood there looking pretty."


    I smirked. "Exactly."


    Pedro grinned. "So, what now, boss?"


    I raised an eyebrow. "Boss?"


    "Yeah." Gonzalo shrugged. "You’re clearly in charge now."


    I rolled my eyes. "If I’m in charge, I say go home and take a shower. You all smell like a sewer."


    Rubén mock-gasped. "How dare you. This is the scent of <i>hard work</i>."


    "No, this is the scent of <i>trash</i>," I corrected.


    Luis Miguel smirked. "Speaking of, you should go get washed up too. Not to be rude..."


    "Then <i>don’t</i> be rude."


    "...but you look like you got into a fistfight with a mud pit."


    Pedro nodded. "And lost."


    "You’re all so kind," I remarked sarcastically.


    Luis Miguel tilted his head, frowning slightly. "Also... are you cold?"


    I blinked. "What?"


    He gestured toward my scarf. "You’re all bundled up. Are you sick?"


    <i>No, no, no... not the scarf, please. </i>