The wrong sister

The road ahead was long, cold, and eerily quiet. Jairo gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed forward as he pressed on the accelerator.

He was going to tell her today.

He took a right turn, and his gaze flicked to the pink box on the passenger seat. She was going to love it. The color was as innocent as her. Pure and surreal.

The dormitory was silent when he arrived. School had gone on holiday two days ago, but she had stayed behind because of him - to spend more time together while he planned to tell her who he truly was: heir to a Mafia empire.

If she wanted to stay by his side forever, she needed to know what it meant to become the Mafia Queen. He just needed five years. That's all he needed to take over the empire and build a world safe enough for her.

He entered the elevator with the pink box, and reached her floor. Arriving at her door, he paused, noticing it was slightly ajar.

His pulse quickened as he carefully pushed it open, only to see a trail of blood drops on the floor, leading to a blood stained pink cardigan.

He dropped the pink box without thinking and rushed forward to grab the cardigan. It was hers.

He tore through the room in a panic. Most of her roommates were gone, and the silence pressed in.

"Emilia!" he shouted, bursting out of the room. He pulled out his phone to dial her number, but her phone started ringing from inside the room.

He ran through the hallway, desperate, before a muffled scream pierced the air.

He didn't think twice.

He followed the sound, his heart thundering in his chest. It was coming from the second elevator.

"Emilia?!" He slammed his fists on the closed elevator doors, shouting her name, cursing under his breath as he continued to press the buttons.

He didn't waste time going to the other elevator. He turned and bolted down the stairs, two steps at a time, praying for his instincts to be wrong.

Then he reached the bottom.