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

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

followed her as we left

but my thoughts

something about him

me, something

But I shook

Vesta led me through more hallways,

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programs within

everything I had seen today-the children in the kindergarten, the life this organization had breathed into families

dedicated herself to this

something bigger than any

us.

us.

there was a heaviness to it

its costs. The weight of responsibility hung in the air, especially around Carlos. I wondered what it would be like

sound of footsteps echoed again, and I

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might

uncertainty.

place, with

the answers I

even know

was searching for.

I could finally rebuild what I had lost and find

needed to move

piece by piece.

in the courtyard,

haunted

thoughts. His cold, indifferent expression was etched deeply

stark contrast to the warmth

with Vesta and

pale,

had drained the

sharp, rigid

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His Pleas, But Our Son's in