Red Ink Between Us

At sixty years old, President Kamala Harris has everything she was ever told to want-power, respect, history written in her name. She is composed, maternal, endlessly kind. She is surrounded by people who love her.

And yet, when the doors close and the lights dim, she is alone.

Closeted, careful, and achingly human beneath the weight of the presidency, Kamala carries a quiet hunger she's learned to live with-desire folded neatly beneath discipline, loneliness disguised as strength. She has mastered restraint. She has mastered silence.

Until Kamaria Bennett.

Twenty-two, nearly twenty-three, Kamaria is Kamala's new writing publisher: shy, brilliant, soft-spoken, and devastatingly sincere. A gifted writer with ink-stained fingers and a hesitant smile, Kamaria approaches Kamala not as a symbol, but as a woman with a story still unfinished. She is gay, inexperienced, tender in ways the world hasn't hardened yet-and completely unprepared for the way Kamala looks at her.

What begins as late-night edits and quiet conversations slowly becomes something dangerous: longing passed in glances, tension humming beneath professionalism, desire neither woman is supposed to acknowledge. Kamala battles the weight of her power, her age, her position-terrified of crossing a line she can never uncross. Kamaria struggles with admiration turning into want, warmth turning into need.

This is a story about restraint and craving.
About a woman who has everything meeting a woman who makes her want more.
About what happens when loneliness finally finds its echo.