Back in my room, the air felt heavy with anticipation.
The leather-bound diary lay between Rosa and me on the bed, its edges worn and its pages faintly yellowed with age.
It held the weight of my half-sister's secrets, her thoughts and fears captured forever in her handwriting.
My heart pounded as I traced my fingers over her name on the cover.
"Are you ready?" Rosa asked, her voice low, almost reverent.
I nodded, swallowing hard.
"We need to know what's in here. No matter how painful it might be."
With trembling hands, I opened the diary.
The scent of old paper wafted up, and for a brief moment, I imagined my sister sitting somewhere, pouring her heart into these pages.
The first few entries were ordinary—reflections on her life, fleeting joys, and small sorrows. But soon, the tone shifted, and Rosa and I were drawn into a story we hadn't expected.
