Chapter 33

We walked further, the sound of the children's laughter fading behind us. After a few moments, we entered a quieter, more clinical part of the building. The vibrant energy of the kindergarten gave way to the sterile formality of a research

environment.

presence

We stopped in front of a large set of glass doors. Through them, I saw a conference room. Inside, older scientists sat around a long table, heads bent over papers and screens. But what caught my eye wasn't them-it was the young man sitting at the head of the table, his commanding the room despite his youth.

He wore a sharp suit, his dark hair neatly combed, but his face was serious and cold, almost detached. His eyes were fixed on

18:50

His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace

37

33

the documents in front of him, barely

acknowledging the conversation

happening around him. There was something about him-something distant, authoritative, and... unreachable.

"That's Dr. Carlos," Vesta whispered beside me, her voice barely audible. "He's the

head of this organization. Brilliant researcher, M.D., but... not

exactly the

warmest person you'll meet."

I watched him for a moment,

I

fascinated by

how the older scientists seemed to defer to him, despite the age gap. There was an air

of quiet authority around him, one that

didn't need to be spoken to be understood.

"He's... young," I said, my voice low, not

wanting to interrupt the scene unfolding behind the glass. Vesta nodded. "He is. But he's responsible

for everything you've seen today-the

18:50

His Pleas, But Our Son's in

37- 31-

r 33

volunteer program, the research that's saved so many lives.

up from his documents, how his posture remained rigid and focused. It was as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and he bore it with an almost inhuman detachment. There was something i intriguing about him, something I couldn't quite place. His -coldness, his distance-it made me

followed her as we

my thoughts lingered

was something

me, something I couldn't

shook it

the present. Vesta led me through more

18:50

Pleas, But Our

3

33

programs

we walked, I couldn't help but think about everything I had seen today-the children in the kindergarten, the life this organization had breathed

why Vesta had dedicated herself to this

something bigger

us.

us.

was a heaviness to

weight of responsibility hung in the air, especially around Carlos. I wondered what it would be like to be a part of this, to contribute

distant sound of

18:50

Pleas, But Our Son's in

3

33

of others-it might change mine, too. A sense of anticipation stirred in my chest, mingling

uncertainty.

this place, with all

the answers

even know

searching for.

lost

needed to

piece by piece.

I stood in the courtyard, Carlos's

haunted

thoughts. His cold, indifferent expression

stark contrast to the warmth

and the vibrancy

was pale, almost ascetic,

had drained the

sharp, rigid lines.

18:50

His Pleas, But Our Son's

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255