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

Before I could lose myself completely in my thoughts, a soft laugh interrupted me. I turned to see Tina standing in the doorway, a teasing grin on her face, holding two mugs of coffee. "You look like you've been hit by a train," she said, walking over to sit at the edge of the bed. "Rough night?"

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You have no idea..."

Tina chuckled, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I think I do. You were so... relaxed when you got home last night. It was like you didn't have a care in

the world."

I peeked through my fingers, feeling my face flush even more. "Relaxed? I was drunk, Tina. And now I have to deal with the aftermath."

"Aftermath?" Tina raised an eyebrow, handing me a cup of coffee. "Or maybe you finally let yourself unwind for once? Look, whatever happened, you'll figure it out. No use stressing about it now."

I sighed, sipping the coffee and letting her words sink in. But how could I face Carlos? What if he regretted everything? What if this ruined the dynamic we had? Tina's casual reassurances did little to quell the anxiety rising inside me.

"I just... I don't know how I'm going to handle seeing him," I muttered, more to myself than to Tina.

"Well, you don't have much of a choice, do you?" she said, standing up. "You'll see him soon enough. Now, get dressed-you've got work to do."

With another groan, I forced myself to get ready. No matter how much I dreaded seeing Carlos, I couldn't hide from it. I had to face him-and whatever came next.

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The drive to work was a blur. My mind raced, replaying the events of the night over and over again, each memory making me more nervous. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, my stomach was in knots. How was I supposed to act normal after everything that had happened?

As I parked the car, I spotted Carlos just getting out of his vehicle, and my breath caught in my throat. He looked as calm and collected as ever, his usual air of confidence surrounding him. But then, I noticed the faint marks on his neck-kiss marks-barely concealed under the collar of his shirt.

My stomach dropped.

How could he be so composed? He walked toward the entrance as if nothing had happened, completely unfazed. I felt a rush of emotions-shock,

embarrassment, anger. He didn't seem affected at all, while I was falling apart inside.

Carlos approached me with his usual cool demeanor, nodding politely as he always did. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness-just a simple, professional nod. As if last night hadn't changed anything between us.

I barely managed to nod back, my heart racing, my thoughts spinning out of control. How could he act like this? As if nothing had happened?

Without another word, Carlos walked into the building, leaving me standing there, my emotions in turmoil. I wanted to confront him, to ask him if last night meant anything, but I couldn't. The fear of his indifference kept me frozen in place. What if I was the only one overthinking this?

Taking a deep breath, I tried to push the emotions down and followed him inside. I had to focus on work. But even as I tried to pull myself together, my mind kept drifting back to Carlos-his kiss marks, his indifference, his frustratingly calm attitude. Work was a welcome distraction at first, and I threw myself into it, trying to ignore the lingering thoughts about Carlos. But as the morning dragged on, the tension inside me refused to go away. I needed something to take my mind off it. Chapter 19

During a break, I found myself sitting with a few coworkers, who were discussing some of the children we had been working with. Their conversation caught my attention and gave me the perfect opportunity to focus on something more important. "How's Emily doing?" I asked, thinking of the little girl who had been struggling with her immune system for months.

Lily, one of the nurses, sighed heavily. "Not well. Her immune system is barely functioning, and every infection hits her harder than the last. Her parents are at their breaking point. They're exhausted."

Emily had been one of our toughest cases, diagnosed with a rare

immunodeficiency disorder shortly after birth. The treatments hadn't been working, and it was clear that her parents were struggling, emotionally and financially.

"And Noah?" I asked, remembering the boy with leukemia who had been in and out of the clinic for his treatments.

"He's hanging in there," Lily said, but her tone grim. "The chemo is rough. He's

Was lost a lot of weight, and his energy is so low. His mom never leaves his side, but you can tell it's taking a toll on her."

Noah's case had been heartbreaking from the start. His leukemia had been aggressive, and while the treatments were keeping it at bay for now, they were ravaging his young body.

I couldn't help but think of the Coopers as well, a couple who had been struggling with infertility for years. They had tried every treatment under the sun, but nothing seemed to work.

"What about the Coopers?" I asked, turning to another nurse who had been handling their case.

"They're still waiting on news from the adoption agency," she said. "They've been

through so much already-failed IVF, miscarriages-it's hard for them to stay hopeful, but they're trying."

As I listened to my coworkers talk about the children and their families, I felt a deep sense of empathy. These families were fighting battles I could hardly imagine-cancer, immunodeficiency, infertility. Each story was a reminder of how fragile life could be, how much people were struggling just to hold on.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

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