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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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

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His Pleas, But Our Son's in

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r 33

saved so many lives.

as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, and he bore it with an almost inhuman detachment. There

her as

thoughts

something about him

me, something I couldn't

I shook it off

me through

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His Pleas, But

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33

and programs within

children in the kindergarten,

Vesta had dedicated herself to this place. It felt

bigger

us.

us.

yet, there was a heaviness to it

around Carlos. I wondered what it would be like to be a part of

back toward the hallway, the distant sound of footsteps echoed again, and I

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But Our Son's

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33

more than just the lives of others-it might change mine, too. A

uncertainty.

with

the

even know

searching for.

lost and find the healing, peace,

to move

piece by piece.

in

haunted

cold, indifferent expression was

contrast to the warmth

Vesta and

face was pale, almost ascetic,

life had drained the

leaving behind sharp, rigid

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Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's

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