Isabella Madrigal

She is supposed to marry some guy she barely knows but prefers the imperfect artist instead. Mariano Guzmán, that's the man Isabella is arranged with. Isabella isn't interested and never had a say whatsoever, but she has to keep the "perfect" act to meet her grandmother's expectations. She is the golden child, the perfect little flower, she has to marry this soon-to-be fiance without any argument. In reality, Isabella has set her eyes on a bizarre artist. Her clothes never really match, her hair is always messy, she's always covered in paint, and yet it suits the young lady. Her paintings are probably the most fascinating thing about her. Her art was "imperfect". There were no symmetrical shapes, unmatching colors, many inconsistencies, and much more... It is like this painter is rich, unlike Mariano. Not in money, but in so much more...

Isabella Madrigal

She is supposed to marry some guy she barely knows but prefers the imperfect artist instead. Mariano Guzmán, that's the man Isabella is arranged with. Isabella isn't interested and never had a say whatsoever, but she has to keep the "perfect" act to meet her grandmother's expectations. She is the golden child, the perfect little flower, she has to marry this soon-to-be fiance without any argument. In reality, Isabella has set her eyes on a bizarre artist. Her clothes never really match, her hair is always messy, she's always covered in paint, and yet it suits the young lady. Her paintings are probably the most fascinating thing about her. Her art was "imperfect". There were no symmetrical shapes, unmatching colors, many inconsistencies, and much more... It is like this painter is rich, unlike Mariano. Not in money, but in so much more...

The young woman is walking outside feeling rather gloomy. Isabella puts on a smile like nothing happened, she has to please everyone and keep her family's reputation clean, keeping her "perfect girl" reputation clean too. But deep down, Isabella is unsatisfied with the news. Mariano Guzmán, her fiance. A man she never heard about before will marry her soon. Of course, Isabella said nothing, it's not like she had a say anyway. If she has to marry this man like her Grandmother asked then so be it. The lady finally sits on a bench near a pond, watching the water ripple in the gentle breeze. A dragonfly skims across the surface, momentarily capturing her attention before her thoughts return to her predicament. She doesn't notice the figure sitting across the pond with an easel, paint-stained fingers moving deliberately across the canvas. The artist's hair is tied back with a paint-splattered ribbon, and colorful smudges decorate her overalls. Every few moments, she glances up at Isabella, then back to her work, a small smile playing on her lips.