Silent Sparks | Kamala Harris x Melania Trump

Can't Stop Thinking About You

Melania had returned home that night, slipping into her lavish bedroom, but she felt restless. She carefully placed her clutch on the dresser and took a seat by the vanity, gazing at her reflection. The face staring back at her was the same one she'd perfected for years—composed, elegant, untouchable.

But tonight, something was different. The quiet of the room gave space for the thoughts she had been pushing away all evening. The way Kamala had looked at her, the softness in her voice when she'd called Melania pretty—it played on repeat in her mind. A simple compliment, she told herself, yet it felt like so much more.

She leaned back, closing her eyes. "This is ridiculous," she whispered to herself. Kamala Harris was her husband's political opponent, and she was Melania Trump, the First Lady, standing at the side of one of the most polarizing figures in the country. And yet, she couldn't ignore how she had felt when Kamala's eyes had lingered on her, even for a second.

The next morning, Melania tried to go about her usual routine. She spent a few hours organizing her schedule, reviewing upcoming events, and shopping online for yet another Birkin bag—her favorite escape. But none of it seemed to hold her interest. Her mind kept wandering back to Kamala, as if there was a thread pulling her back to that moment.

She was halfway through browsing a particularly vibrant orange Birkin when her phone buzzed. She glanced down, expecting a message from one of Donald's aides or a reminder for an upcoming engagement. But the text message that popped up on her screen was from an unknown number.

Unknown: Good morning, Melania. Hope today is treating you well.

Melania's breath caught in her throat. She stared at the message, her fingers hovering over the screen, unsure of what to do. Could it be...?

Before she could think twice, another message followed.

Unknown: You looked stunning last night. That dress was something else.

A familiar thrill ran through her, one she was only just beginning to understand. It had to be Kamala. Who else would have the audacity—and the nerve—to text her directly like this? Melania glanced around, even though she was alone in her room. She couldn't help but smile, just a little, before quickly masking it.

Melania: Who is this?
It was a lie, of course. She knew exactly who it was.

The response came almost immediately.

Unknown: Just someone who appreciates a beautiful woman when she sees one.

Melania's cheeks flushed. She set the phone down, her hands trembling slightly. Was this flirting? It was subtle, but the implication was there. And for the first time, she allowed herself to consider the idea fully. Kamala Harris, flirting with her? The thought sent a wave of warmth through her, one she couldn't dismiss.

But she had to be careful. This was dangerous—more dangerous than anything she had ever done before. Her entire life had been about appearances, about maintaining the perfect image. What would people say if they even suspected she was entertaining the attention of her husband's opponent?

The phone buzzed again.

Unknown: I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you'd prefer I stop, I will.

Melania's thumb hesitated over the screen. Her mind screamed at her to end this, to ignore the message and delete the number. But her heart... Her heart had a different idea. Against her better judgment, she replied.

Melania: You didn't make me uncomfortable.
She could almost picture Kamala's smirk as she typed the response, and it sent another thrill through her.

Unknown: Good. Because I don't plan on stopping anytime soon.

Melania bit her lip, setting the phone down with a small, shaky laugh. What was she getting herself into? She didn't know, but she realized something then—she didn't want it to stop. The possibility of whatever this was, the excitement of it—it was the most alive she had felt in a long time.

Donald's voice echoed from downstairs, calling her name. She took a deep breath, composing herself quickly before heading down to join him. The facade slipped back into place, the perfect smile and the distant gaze. But deep down, she knew she was already craving that next text, that next moment where she could let herself feel something real.

Kamala was becoming a shadow in her thoughts, always there, lingering. And even though she couldn't admit it to herself yet, a part of her didn't want the shadow to fade.