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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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

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volunteer program, the research that's saved so many

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 curious. What kind of man carried such a heavy burden with such

her as we left the

thoughts

was something about

me, something I couldn't

But I shook it

led me through more hallways, explaining

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Pleas, But Our Son's

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programs within the

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

why Vesta had dedicated herself

something bigger

us.

us.

yet, there was a heaviness

wasn't without its challenges, its costs. The weight of responsibility hung in the air, especially around Carlos. I

hallway, the distant sound of footsteps echoed

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Pleas, But Our Son's

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of others-it might change

uncertainty.

with all

the answers I

even know

was searching

what I had lost and find the healing, peace,

needed to move

piece by piece.

I stood in the

haunted

cold, indifferent expression was etched

stark contrast to the

and the

was pale, almost ascetic,

life had drained the color

sharp, rigid

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His Pleas, But