We are not going back

Chapter twenty-one

After the interview, the adrenaline still buzzed in my veins. My ankle ached, but the relief that came from finally speaking my truth outweighed the physical pain. Kamala and I were walking toward the exit of the news station, side by side, when she glanced over at me, her eyes soft.

“You were really something back there,” she said, her voice low and smooth. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone handle pressure like that.”

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t know about that. It felt like I was seconds away from falling apart.”

Kamala’s smile was gentle, but there was something else in her gaze- something deeper. “You didn’t. And that’s what matters.” She paused, her hand brushing lightly against my arm. “Let me take you to dinner. To celebrate.”

I blinked, my mind racing for an excuse. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go—it was that I shouldn’t. Things were already complicated enough, especially after what had just been broadcast across the country. But the warmth in Kamala’s eyes made it hard to say no.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I said hesitantly. “After everything, people might get the wrong impression.”

Kamala tilted her head slightly, her smile turning playful. “Let them. You deserve a night out, Eleonora. You deserve to be taken care of.”

I hesitated, but there was something disarming about the way she said it—so casual, but with a weight behind her words that made me feel seen. Before I could talk myself out of it, I nodded. “Alright. Just dinner.”

The restaurant she chose was understated and intimate, tucked away from the busy streets. The dim lighting made the space feel private, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist for the evening. We were seated at a small table near the back, and despite my earlier reluctance, I found myself relaxing. Kamala had a way of making things feel easy, even when they weren’t.

As the waiter left with our orders, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “You seem more relaxed now,” she observed.

I shrugged, a small smile tugging at my lips. “It’s nice to just… sit for a moment. No cameras, no questions.”

Kamala nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “You know, I’ve always admired that about you. How you handle everything with such grace, even when it’s messy.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused. “Grace? I think you might be giving me too much credit.”

Her smile widened, but there was a subtle edge to it, a softness that felt almost intimate. “Not at all. You’re much stronger than you realize, Eleonora.”

I felt the warmth rise in my cheeks, unsure how to respond. Her words hung in the air between us, heavier than they should have been. I glanced down at the table, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass. “I guess I just do what I have to do.”

Kamala leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a more private tone. “That’s what makes you different. You always do what needs to be done, even when it’s hard. Even when it’s for someone else.”

There was something in her gaze, something that made my breath catch in my throat. The way she looked at me—it wasn’t just admiration. There was something more, something that I hadn’t allowed myself to see before.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension. “Well, I guess that’s what happens when you marry someone like Olivia.”

Kamala’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for a moment, I wondered if I had said the wrong thing. But she simply smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in it. “You deserve to do something for yourself, too. Not just for others.”

I felt the weight of her words settle over me, and I realized, for the first time, how long it had been since I had done something just for me. Not for Olivia, not for the public, not even for our son. Just for me.

Kamala’s foot brushed mine lightly under the table, and my heart skipped. It was subtle, but intentional. She wasn’t pushing—she was just… there. Present. And for the first time, I allowed myself to acknowledge what had been quietly building between us.

“Kamala,” I started, unsure of where I was even going with it. But she stopped me with a small shake of her head, her gaze steady.

“We don’t have to talk about it. Not tonight,” she said softly. “I just wanted to spend time with you. No politics, no complications. Just you and me.”

Her words settled something in me, a quiet calm that I hadn’t realized I’d been craving. I leaned back in my chair, meeting her gaze, the tension between us still simmering just beneath the surface.

“I think I can manage that,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

We talked about everything and nothing over the course of the evening. She told me stories from the campaign trail, things that made us both laugh, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. Kamala’s presence was… easy, in a way I hadn’t expected.

As we finished dessert, she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping low again, that same playful edge in her tone. “So, are you going to let me take you out again? Or are you going to keep running from me?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t think you’re the type to take no for an answer.”

Her smile was slow, deliberate. “Not when it comes to you.”

And just like that, the air shifted between us again—charged, electric. She didn’t push, didn’t make a move. But the offer was there, open and clear. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to say no.