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

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The stories of those parents, their struggles, and their relentless hope had stayed with me, fueling a quiet determination I hadn't felt in a long time.

Each time I thought about them-their children battling rare diseases, fighting for every breath, every day-it reminded me of my own journey when I first participated in those uncertain medical experiments. Back then, I didn't know what the outcome would be. Fear of

But now, seeing the courage of those parents, I realized something important: no one could predict the outcome of a leap of faith. And even though the failure was real, I knew I had to keep moving forward. I had to be part of something that made a difference, no matter how difficult or morally complicated it seemed.

My confusion and frustration over Carlos felt so small in comparison to what these families were going through. Still, the nagging thoughts about him refused to leave me. I tried to focus on the children, on the work that needed to be done, but part of me was still back in the parking lot, replaying that simple nod, those kiss marks, and the way Carlos acted as if nothing had changed.

But for me, everything had changed.

As I stood in the breakroom, lost in thought, my coworker Lily approached me again, this time with a bit more urgency.

"You know Carlos and his team are still looking for volunteers, right?" she said, her voice low as if she were sharing a secret.

My stomach fluttered at the mention of Carlos, but I forced myself toContent is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

o stay calm.

Lily glanced around, making sure no one else was listening. "It's a big deal, Doris. The kind of challenge that only a few people could really handle. They're being

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very selective about who they choose." She paused, her eyes scanning my face as if gauging my interest, "You should try again,

"Thanks, Lily. I'll think about it," I murmured, even though I had already made up my mind.

Lily smiled knowingly before walking away, leaving me to wrestle with the decision already forming in my mind. I had to try again, no matter how cold Carlos had been. I wouldn't let him shut me out. Not this time. That afternoon, I made my way back to Carlos's office.

I knocked softly on the door and waited, hearing his voice on the other side.

"Come in."

I stepped inside, trying to maintain a steady composure. Carlos sat at his desk, his gaze cool as he looked up at me. His face remained unreadable, his demeanor as professional and distant as ever. "What do you want, Doris?" he asked flatly, barely glancing up from the papers on his desk.

I took a deep breath. "I want to volunteer for your project."

He didn't even flinch. "I already told you, you're not a fit for this. I don't have time to explain it to you again."

"But you didn't explain it to me," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. "You didn't even listen to what I had to offer. I'm qualified, and I want to be part of this. You can't just dismiss me without even-"

"I can, and I have." His tone was sharp now colder than I expected. He glanced at

his eyes narrowing. "This isn't a negotiation, Doris."

me,

I opened my mouth to argue, but Carlos raised a hand to stop me.

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"I don't have time for this," he said. "I have more important things to deal with than indulging your persistence." He pressed a button on his desk, and before I knew it, the same security guards from last time appeared. "Escort her out," Carlos said coldly, not even bothering to look at me this time.

I stood there for a moment, stunned by his complete lack of warmth, his utter disregard for what I had to say. Carlos is too cold. Too heartless. How could he

treat me this way?

But the guards were already at my side, gently but firmly leading me toward the door. My heart sank as I walked out of his office, feeling once again that sharp sting of rejection. How could someone be so indifferent to those who genuinely wanted to help? I stood outside the building, frustration swirling inside me. But this time, it wasn't just about Carlos's rejection. I knew I had to be part of that project. I couldn't let him stop me. There had to be another way.

That evening, I went straight to Vesta's house. She had always been the person I turned to when things felt impossible, her calm wisdom and quiet support like a beacon in moments of confusion. As I sat down in her cozy living room, the scent of herbs and tea filled the air, soothing my frayed nerves.

"What happened?" Vesta asked softly, sitting across from me with that familiar look of concern.