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

Chapter/54

in years.

As unapproachable as he seemed, something about Carlos intrigued me. His dedication to the medical organization, his relentless focus-it all felt like a world I wanted to be part of. And the children in the kindergarten had stirred something inside me, something I hadn't felt I cleared my throat, feeling awkward under the weight of his silence. "Dr. Carlos, I... I wanted to introduce myself properly. I'm Doris, a friend of Vesta's."

He gave the faintest nod, but his eyes drifted downward again, as though my words were an interruption he could barely tolerate.

I wasn't sure why I continued talking, but the words spilled out before I could stop them. "I saw the kindergarten earlier, and I was really moved. I'd love to be a part of it, to help with the children. I used to be a teacher, and I thought maybe I could work there part-time. For a moment, I thought he hadn't heard me. He stood completely still, his eyes still fixed on the ground, his face as cold and detached as ever. But then, without looking up, he spoke.

"The kindergarten is not a place for volunteers without proper clearance," he said, his voice flat, devoid of warmth.

"I understand that," I said quickly, trying to keep a hopeful tone. "But I'm not just any volunteer. I have experience with children, and I-"

"It's not about experience," he interrupted, his voice cutting through the air like ice. "There are protocols. The childProperty of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

are part of a delicate program. It's not a

place for someone who simply wants to help."

His words stung. I felt my throat tighten, my heart sinking. I had expected some resistance, but this-this was a total rejection.

voice smaller now, the

"I really think I could make a difference," I said, my voice smaller confidence fading with each word. "I could-"

"You're not what we need," he said sharply, turning his back to me.

I stood there, frozen, watching him walk away. The tears burned at the corners of

my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

As soon as Carlos was out of sight, I sank onto a nearby bench, my body trembling with disappointment. I had been so sure this could be my chance-a fresh start, al way to contribute to something bigger than myself. But Carlos had crushed that hope with just a few cold, indifferent words.

I buried my face in my hands, letting the tears spill out now that I was alone. I had wanted this so badly, and now it felt as though all my hopes had shattered in an instant. The weight of rejection was suffocating.

Just as I was about to give in to despair, I heard footsteps approaching. Quickly, I wiped my tears away, hoping whoever it was wouldn't notice.

"Here," a familiar voice said, and when I looked up, there was Carlos, holding out a tissue.

I blinked in surprise, unsure if I had heard him right. His face was as unreadable as ever, but something was different-something softer in his posture, though his coldness lingered.

"You need to speak with a staff member who handles applications," he said, his voice low but steady. "I don't make those decisions."

I took the tissue, speechless. Carlos-this man who had just rejected me so completely-was now offering me a path forward.

"... thank you," I managed to say, my voice shaky.

He gave a slight nod, his expression unchanged. "Speak with the head of the

program. They will guide you through the process."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me again with more questions than answers. But this time, there was a glimmer of hope.

Later that week, with Vesta's guidance, I submitted my application, and this time, I was accepted. The process wasn't easy, but it felt like a victory-a small step toward reclaiming a part of myself I thought I had lost.

When I started working at the kindergarten, it was like stepping into a new world. The children were full of life, their energy contagious. They ran around with wolf tails bouncing behind them, giggling and playing without a care in the world. Their joy awakened something in me, something I hadn't felt in years.

Each day brought new moments of wonder. The children, with their unique personalities, would come running to me with outstretched hands, eager to share their stories and laughter. Their innocence and enthusiasm were infectious, and in their presence, I found a strange kind of healing. They were the light I had been missing in my life, and each moment with them felt like a gift.

Every so often, I would see Carlos pass by, always distant, always cold. But now, there was a subtle shift-no matter how small. He no longer looked straight through me. There was a faint nod of acknowledgment, a subtle sign that maybe, just maybe, I had earned a small place in this world he had built. And for now, that was enough.