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.
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, hist presence 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 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, 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…
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
kindergarten, the volunteer program, the research that’s saved so many lives. He’s
dedicated his life to this work.”
I continued watching Carlos, noticing how he barely looked up from his documents, how his posture remained rigid and focused. It was as though the weight of the world rested on Ts shoulders, and he bore it with an almost inhuman detachment.
There was something intriguing about him, something I couldn’t quite place. His coldness,
s distance–it made me curious. What kind of man carried such a heavy burden with such
||
detachment?
followed her as we left the research wing, but my thoughts lingered on Carlos. There was something about him that unsettled me, something I couldn’t quite understand. But I shook it off and focused on the present. Vesta led me through more hallways, explaining the various departments and programs within the organization.
As 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 into families who had no hope. It
was remarkable, and I could see why Vesta had dedicated herself to this place. It felt like something important, something bigger than any of us.
And yet, there was a heaviness to it all. The work being done here wasn’t without its challenges, 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 to something so life–changing.
As I turned back toward the hallway, the distant sound of footsteps echoed again, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that stepping into this world might change more than just the lives of others–it might change mine, too. A sense of anticipation stirred in my chest, mingling with uncertainty.
Maybe this place, with all its complexities and challenges, held the answers I didn’t even know I was searching for. Perhaps, here, I could finally rebuild what I had lost and find the healing, peace, and strength I desperately needed to move forward, piece by piece.
As I stood in the courtyard, Carlos’s face haunted my thoughts. His cold, indifferent expression was etched deeply in my mind–a stark contrast to the warmth I had found with
Vesta and the vibrancy of the kindergarten.
His face w
was pale, almost ascetic, as though life had drained the color from him, leaving behind sharp, rigid lines. His eyes, always cast downward, barely flickered toward anyone around him. It was as if he had built a wall so high that not even the most pressing matters could breach it. Carlos seemed distant, untouchable, as if he existed in a world separate
from everyone else.
I wandered past the fountain, letting the sound of the water soothe my thoughts. I hadn’t even noticed Carlos standing by one of the trees until I almost walked straight into him.
Oh, I’m sorry,” I stammered, startled by the unex, cted encounter.
Carlos looked at me, his face unreadable. His eyes were as cold as always, but for a moment, they met mine–long enough to send a shiver down my spine.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge my apology, just stood there, distant. His posture was stiff, his hands loosely folded in front of him, as though every movement was calculated to avoid engaging with the world.
7(0)
