Behind Closed doors

Chapter 19

Back at the White House, Kamala sat in front of her vanity, her reflection staring back with tired eyes. The events of the evening swirled in her mind—Lauren's touch, the tension between them, the rejection, and the pretense she had to maintain with Doug. She removed her makeup methodically, wiping away the layers that had hidden her heartbreak. As the cool cloth glided over her skin, the weight of her emotions pressed heavily on her chest.

Her earrings came off next, the small clink as they hit the table breaking the silence in the room. She was about to remove her pearls when she heard the door creak open. Doug entered, a smug grin on his face as he walked toward her. Without a word, he bent down to kiss her, but Kamala turned her head, his lips landing on her cheek instead.

"Don't," she said firmly, her tone colder than the night air outside.

Doug straightened up, his brow furrowing. "What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his voice dripping with false concern.

Kamala's eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. "Don't call me that," she said sharply, turning to face him fully. That's not for you. Only Lauren can call me that, she thought.

Doug's eyes darkened, the fake charm slipping from his face for a moment. "Fine," he muttered. "But what was all that tonight, then? The hand-holding, the kiss on the cheek—it looked pretty real to me."

"It was for the cameras, Doug," Kamala replied, her voice steely. "For the press, for the image. A political arrangement. We both know that."

He scoffed, folding his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. "And I'm supposed to sleep in my own room tonight, huh?" His tone was mocking. "After all that affection, now I'm back to being your political prop?"

Kamala's jaw clenched. "Yes," she replied firmly. "You have your own room. I'm sleeping alone."

Doug let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Is it because of your girlfriend?" he asked, his voice dripping with venom. "Because, from what I saw, she's already moved on." He tilted his head, watching Kamala's reaction closely. "Your little assistant went into Lauren's room just minutes ago. Seems like she's already forgotten about you."

Kamala's heart twisted painfully, but she didn't let it show. Her face remained impassive, though her hands clenched into fists in her lap. Doug wasn't finished.

"Can't say I blame her," he continued, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "Sam's kinda hot, and they're the same age. Maybe Lauren's just looking for someone less... complicated."

Kamala's composure cracked, her eyes blazing with anger. "You don't know anything," she snapped, standing up abruptly. "Stay out of my business, Doug. You're here for appearances, nothing more. Don't think you can manipulate me with your cheap insults."

Doug raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying. Seems like the tough agent might have found someone more... available." He turned to leave but paused at the door, looking over his shoulder. "Good luck, Kamala. You're gonna need it."

Without another word, he walked out, leaving Kamala standing alone in the room, her chest heaving with anger and hurt.

As soon as the door clicked shut, the dam broke. Tears welled up in Kamala's eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she sank back onto the edge of the bed. The loneliness, the pressure, the sacrifice—it all came crashing down at once. She covered her face with her hands, her body trembling as silent sobs wracked her frame.

She had given up Lauren for the sake of her career, for the image she had to maintain. But in moments like this, it felt like she had lost a part of herself in the process. The room was too quiet, too empty, and the thought of Lauren with Sam, along with Doug's cruel words, only twisted the knife deeper.