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

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

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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

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research that's saved so many lives. He's dedicated his life to

the world rested on his shoulders, and he bore it with an almost inhuman detachment. There was something

as

thoughts

something about him

something

I shook it off and

present. Vesta led me through more hallways, explaining the

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programs

children in the kindergarten, the life this organization had breathed into families who had no hope. It was remarkable,

see why Vesta had dedicated herself to this place.

bigger than

us.

us.

there was a

its costs. The 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 footsteps

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this world might change more than just the lives of others-it might change mine,

uncertainty.

this place, with all

held the answers I

even know

searching

had lost and find

to move

piece by piece.

stood in the courtyard, Carlos's

haunted

His cold, indifferent expression was etched deeply in

stark contrast to

and the

was pale, almost

had drained the

leaving behind sharp, rigid lines.

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His Pleas, But Our Son's