Behind Closed doors

Chapter 11

The next morning, Kamala woke up feeling well-rested despite the events of the previous night. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and she stretched out her legs, feeling the faint ache from Lauren's touch. A smile appeared on her face.

But this thought was soon replaced as she remembered her conversation with Lauren. She knew she couldn't hide it forever—Doug would be home tonight, and they needed to talk.

Kamala swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing. Lauren had been right; heels wouldn't be an option today. She stood up carefully, feeling the stretch in her muscles. A soft laugh escaped her as she made her way to the bathroom, her hips swaying slightly from the lingering sensations.

She slipped into a pair of comfortable sweats and a loose t-shirt. The thought of seeing her husband filled her with dread, but she knew she had to face it. She needed to clear her head, so she decided to go for a run. Her workout had changed since becoming President—usually it was either the gym or the White House garden, but today she was craving fresh air.

Her feet pounded the pavement, the rhythmic sound of her sneakers echoing in her ears. The cool air was a welcome relief against her flushed skin as she pushed herself to run faster, trying to outrun her thoughts. The scenery blurred around her as she contemplated what she would say to Doug. How do you tell your husband that you've discovered a part of yourself you didn't even know existed? How will she come out to her family. The thought of his kind eyes and gentle touch made her stomach twist in knots. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve to be blindsided by her revelation. But what if he couldn't understand? What if their marriage couldn't survive the truth? And what about the kids? Open marriages exist—it's practically 2025, after all. And he still needs to maintain his position as the First Gentleman. Divorce wasn't an option.

With a heavy heart, she turned to make her way back to the safety of the White House. The looming building seemed to judge her as she approached, a silent witness to the weight of her decision.

In the shower, the water cascaded over her body like cleansing rain, washing away the sweat from her run, but not the memories of the night before. She stepped out of the shower, the cold tiles sending a shiver up her spine. As she dried off, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—thankfully, there were no visible marks, no signs of the passionate night she'd shared with Lauren.

Dressing in her usual presidential attire, she felt the weight of her responsibilities settle back onto her shoulders. The sharp lines of her purple suit and the weight of the pearls around her neck served as a stark reminder of the façade she'd have to maintain today. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the day ahead.

As she made her way to the Oval Office, she saw Lauren standing in front of her door with another guard on the other side. Their eyes locked, and Lauren greeted her with a crisp, "Morning, ma'am."

Kamala nodded, the formality of the greeting feeling foreign on her lips. "Agent Castellanos," she began, slightly teasing. "You left early yesterday after the farmers' market visit. Are you feeling well?"

Lauren's eyes searched hers for a moment before she replied, "Yes, ma'am. I'm feeling much better today." The other guard cast a curious glance their way, but Lauren's expression remained professional, giving nothing away.

"Good," Kamala said, her voice firm. "From now on, I expect you to be my shadow, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lauren said, her tone unwavering. "I'm here for your protection, always."

The words hung in the air between them, loaded with unspoken meaning. Lauren's gaze didn't waver, and for a moment, Kamala felt like she could drown in those blue depths. Then, with a nod, she stepped into the Oval Office, swaying her hips more than she should have.